Too Late to Beg: I'm No Longer Yours novel · Chapter 3 of 24

Chapter 3: Roses in the Lobby

Troy shows up at the studio with roses and an excuse about the leather bracelet, and Marin hands him her signed note for $48,000 in front of everyone; as the elevator closes he asks her to ask her new boss how he knew her start date.

At eight that night, nine people from Caldecott Studio were eating pizza off drafting tables when the elevator opened.

Troy stepped out holding two dozen red roses.

He wore the gray quarter-zip I had bought him for Christmas. He had a tan from one day on a beach.

The glass wall of the lobby showed him to every desk on the floor.

"There she is," he said, and smiled at the whole room.

I stood up slowly.

"Hi, baby," Troy said. "You made your point. Let's go home."

Nobody at the studio spoke.

The receptionist, who had stayed late for the pizza, stopped with a slice halfway to her mouth.

"You flew in from Hawaii," I said.

"I flew in from Hawaii for you."

"You flew in because your bar's supply card is frozen."

His smile held, but it took effort. "That's not fair."

"Two nights ago you left me alone at a table with a cake and a five-hundred-forty-dollar bill."

"It was a surprise."

"You booked the hotel eight days before."

"Marin." He lowered his voice. "Don't do this here. Come outside and we'll talk like adults."

"Nobody here is stopping you from talking."

He held out the roses.

I looked at his wrist.

The leather bracelet was still on it. The little silver L sat just under the cuff of his sleeve.

"What does the L stand for?" I asked.

He did not blink.

"Lowell," he said. "I had it made for our anniversary. I was going to give you the matching one on Friday."

It was smooth, and it was fast.

It was also the answer of a man who had been asked that question before, in his head, many times.

"You don't wear jewelry," I said.

"For you I do."

I took the roses out of his hand and turned around.

The receptionist was nearest. I put the flowers in her arms.

"Please give these to whoever leaves last tonight," I said.

She nodded, wide-eyed.

When I turned back to him, I had the folder open.

I took out the note and held it up so he could read the top line.

"Forty-eight thousand dollars," I said. "My mother's life insurance. You signed this at our kitchen table five years ago."

"Marin, come on."

"It's due on thirty days' notice. This is the notice. The thirty days end a month from tonight."

Someone in the back of the room put down a pizza box.

Troy laughed, one short breath through his nose.

"You're serious. You're handing me a bill in front of your coworkers."

"I'm handing you a copy. I kept the original."

"You keep everything, don't you?" he said. "That's your problem. You're rigid. You can't let anything go."

"I can let you go," I said. "That part was easy."

His face changed then.

It was the face I had seen in the apartment when I asked too many questions, the one that always came before he told me to go cool off.

He stepped close.

"You think anyone is waiting for you here? You think this is a real job?" he said quietly. "You've never lasted anywhere without me telling you what to do."

"Sir," a voice said behind him. "The elevator's on your left."

Elias was standing in the door of his office with his sleeves pushed up.

He had not raised his voice. He was not smiling.

Troy looked him up and down.

"Let me guess. The boss."

"Elias Caldecott."

"She's good with spreadsheets," Troy said, and held out his hand. "You'll find out she's terrible with people."

Elias did not take it.

"I'll take the spreadsheets," he said.

Troy let his hand drop.

He walked back to the elevator and pushed the button with one knuckle.

I stood very still. Nine people were not looking at me, which meant they had all seen everything.

The doors opened.

Troy stepped inside, turned, and looked straight at me.

"Ask your new boss how I knew your start date," he said.

The doors slid closed.

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