Unprofessional (Under editing)

Chapter 13 : Started it all

Once I got home, the dam finally broke. Tears I'd been holding back all night came rushing out, each sob shaking my chest. To stop myself from crying any harder, I peeled off my clothes and stepped into a warm shower, letting the water wash over me. It didn't take away the ache, but it dulled it just enough.

I kept thinking about what he said in the car, and maybe I was over thinking, honestly, I probably was. Maybe Miles had only been using me—for what, I wasn't even sure.

Or maybe he was recording our conversation for some cheap gossip to sell to the press, but he's rich, that wouldn't make any sense.

But right now, I didn't even feel anger. I felt numb. Numb and exhausted. I just wanted the hurt to stop, but it clung to me like a second skin, refusing to let go.

After getting out of the shower, I wrapped myself in a towel and grabbed my phone. My hands shook as I scrolled through my contacts, struggling to see clearly through my tear-filled eyes. I needed to talk to someone—Jeanette, Valerie, anyone; I pressed call on one of their contacts.

The phone barely rang twice before it picked up.

"Hello? Um, Val? Jenny? I... I need you right now," I managed to say, my voice breaking between sniffling sobs.

"Rowan, are you okay?"

But the voice on the other end wasn't theirs. My heart sank, and dread settled in my stomach like a rock. It wasn't Valerie or Jeanette. It was a man's voice—a voice I knew too well.

Isaac Collins.

I stared at my phone in disbelief, my heart dropping. Of all people, why him? Why now?

"I hate my life," I muttered under my breath, sinking deeper into the feeling of absolute defeat, not even sad anymore but just embarrassed.

"Sorry, I called the wrong number. So sorry for disturbing you, sir. Have a great night." I was in a hurry to hang up the phone, and once I did, I let out a big sigh.

"Oh God, what have I done? Even when I'm sad I'm useless, I'm going to die alone." I said to myself, embarrassed.

____

The dreaded Monday arrives, and I'm dreading it more than any Monday before. Facing Mr. Collins after everything that's happened—sleeping together, then his casual "let's forget about it," and now the fact that I called him when I was at my lowest—feels like walking into a storm.

Today might just be the hardest day of my career. Time ticks by slowly, and before I know it, it's time to give Mr. Collins his morning coffee, along with paperwork that needs his signature. As I walk through the long hallway leading to his office, every step feels heavier than the last. My heart races, and I'm pretty sure I could die from embarrassment before even making it through his door.

I take a deep breath, knock on his door, and hear his voice granting me access. I step inside, nerves buzzing in my chest.

"Hello, sir. I have your coffee and paperwork."

"What was that last night?" He asked. I didn't miss a beat. I continued talking like he didn't say anything.

"I don't know if you saw this on your calendar since it was a recent add on, but I just wanted to remind you that the marketing team requested a meeting." I said, handing him his coffee and placing his paperwork on his desk in front of him. I didn't miss him rising from his chair and the short strides he took toward me, but I ignored it.

I started to walk out and before I could, movements smooth, deliberate, Mr. Collins softly pulled me by the arm, spun me around his hand, then on my chin, tilting my head up to meet his smokey gaze. His fingers were warm, but the intensity in his eyes sent a chill down my spine.

"Don't ignore me when I'm talking to you."

For a second, I'm frozen, too stunned to respond. His touch, his words—it's too much. But then, something snaps inside me. I push his hand away and step back, shrugging my shoulder to shake off the closeness.

"Last week you didn't even look at me, and now you're ignoring me? Do you hate me that much?"

"Sir, I know you don't particularly wanna talk about it, but just because we had sex doesn't mean you could just touch me whenever you want." I said timidly, meeting his gaze, heart pounding, but I stand my ground.

"You know," he says, his voice soft but cutting, "If I look close enough, I can still see your eyes are puffy." He said, now ignoring me. He squints slightly, studying me as if I'm some puzzle he's trying to solve.

"Stop. What is this, really? You've got no shortage of admirers, and yet—" My phone dings mid-sentence, interrupting my me. I glance down at my phone in my hand, and of course, it's Miles again. He's been texting me nonstop stuff like...

Miles: "We need to talk."
Miles: "I'm sorry about yesterday. Please, Rowan."
Miles: "Let's meet. I can explain."
Miles: "I miss you."
Miles: "Rowan, please answer me. This is getting ridiculous."

The newest addition being...

Miles: "Please, just give me a chance to explain. I'm so sorry."

Mr. Collins catches sight of the name on the screen. His expression sharpening, he grabbed my phone out of my hand. I take a deep breath, trying to keep my composure, but my fingers itch to snatch the phone back.

"Give it back," I say again, my voice sharper this time. He holds it just out of reach, a smug smile playing on his lips, clearly relishing my frustration. I bounce on my toes, stretching higher, but he's taller and stronger, the gap between us a mockery of my attempts.

"Seriously?" I snap, my irritation boiling over. "This isn't funny." His calm gaze only fuels my anger further, as if he's savoring the power he has at this moment. I take a step back, trying to regain my focus.

"Look, if you're done playing games, I really need that."

"You had a date with him, right?" He asks, amusement dancing in his eyes.

I let out a sigh, playing along if only to get my phone back. "Yes," I reply, my chest heaving as I try to catch my breath.

"And last night, you called me crying, am I correct?"

"Yes."

"Okay, there's just one thing I need to know."

"If it'll help you give me back my phone, then what?"

"Why were you crying?" I stopped, opening my mouth to respond, but then I glanced down at my phone. In that split second, I seized the opportunity and snatched it from his hand, then ran out of his office, shutting the door behind me. I looked down at my phone, another text from Miles, a glaring reminder of what started this all.

Miles: "Rowen, I'm sorry."