RC.

Ch8 ... C

At the appointed time I cross the hall, holding my head high and walking confidently.

As I push the door to his office, a shot of electricity shoots through my heart.

Sitting behind his huge wooden desk, he turns his gaze away from his screen to look at me intensely.

R:"Tayla, sit down."

I have to concentrate very hard not to stagger as I walk to the seat.

(He's still as beautiful.)

I hate myself for feeling like I do when there's nothing more to hope for, nothing good to be learned from this story.

T:"You wanted to see me ?"

In my mouth it's more of a reproach than a question.

(Ok, I have to control myself and stay pro!)

R:"Yes."

He stares at me for a moment, rubbing his cufflinks between his fingers.

Then he grabs his anthracite pen and slides it between his two hands.

In his metallic coloured irises, I read many emotions. Yet I can't seem to discern his state of mind ...

Does he feel sad, angry, guilty, or just ... indifferent?

I remain impassive before the intensity of his gaze. There's no question of showing him my weakness.

R:"In relation to yesterday ..."

New discharge to the heart.

T:"Let's not talk about it anymore, it was very clear, let's keep it professional if you please."

I cut him off. My voice is cold. From the outside one might think that I've moved on. But inside, I'm in pieces.

He sighs softly, looking down at his pen.

For the first time, I see an uncomfortable Ryan Carter. That attitude makes me wonder. Could he be having regrets ...?

(Probably.)

No doubt ... But I don't know to what extent ... Regretting his behavior doesn't mean that he cares about me.

(Probably not.)

Who am I even kidding?! It's difficult to believe. A man like him doesn't regret things. No time for that! He just feels awkward after having been caught red-handed!

He opens his mouth several times, closes his eyes and gently nods his head. For the first time since I've known him, he's struggling for words.

R:"I..."

T:"Ryan, just leave it ... I get it."

This time, the sadness of my voice finds an echo in his eyes. I don't know what to think anymore. I feel totally disconcerted. I've never seen him like this.

Suddenly, he gets up and takes a few steps along his bay window. He lets his eyes linger on the city's skyscrapers.

R:"It's complicated."

T:"It could have been very simple."

We remain silent for a few seconds.

I just observe him, silently.

T:"Do you want me to leave? To resign?"

He turns quickly towards me as if I'd just shocked him.

R:"Not at all !"

T:"So why did you ask me over here?"

He leans against the window and his eyes turn away this time towards the sky. I see him fighting against his inner questions.

He eventually clears his throat. When his eyes fall back on me, they've regained their calm, their control.

R:"I have to make a speech tomorrow night for the inauguration of a new hi-tech laboratory funded by the firm."

R:"Will you be there... ?"

T:"If you wish me to be."

I reply calmly, in virtual confident looking into his eyes.

I then fix my fingers for a moment, honestly. I'm already wondering if I'll be here tonight ...

He speaks to me as if I had the right to refuse. Has he forgotten that he's my boss? He pays me for this job.
 
R:"It's an open-air speech on the roof of a building. I'll send you the address."

R:"Many influential New Yorker's will be there, I need you to be there too."

T:"Okay."

He looks at me apologetically. A troubling silence settles.

T:"What happened between us does not affect my professionalism, and if it turns out to be so, I will make the necessary decisions."

The coldness of my words seems to surprise him. This kind of game between us, of mischievousness, that tone that always flirted with seduction, have disappeared.

There are only ruins left.

T:"If that's all, I'd like to get back to work."

R:"That's all."

Without further comment, I get up from the chair and leave his office, leaving him there, alone in his ivory tower.