Good Intentions| Editing

Twenty Eight

We planned it all out that day. Instead of having a nice weekend with Harry, we were planning a man's downfall. I would go to the meeting and talk Mr. Wells up about my book. Then, about twenty minutes in, Harry would call Chris about the company and get him to leave the room. At that point I would get into his computer and find the bank statements.  "He can't pass down my call. My company is all he wants." Harry had said. Yet my nerves said otherwise.

The weekend was terrible. I tried to talk to Harry like nothing happened, but whenever I spoke to him he would reply in short sentences or by a nod of his head. The only time he showed any affection was when he gave me a new phone because he smashed my old one. He was making everything desolate and making me feel worse for my actions. I wanted to go back in time and instead of lying to Harry at the gala, I would tell him the damn truth. Why did I have to ruin everything?

Monday approached, and it was back to work. All of a sudden, I didn't just have Mr. Frederick yelling at me, but Harry too.

"Dammit Arabella!" Harry says throwing the wrong manuscript at me. "I said Robins, not Robinson."

"Sorry sir." I quickly grab the hoard of paper from the floor.

"Start fucking listening." Harry says turning back to his papers. Mr. Frederick gives me a smug smirk from where he was sitting.

I quickly run from the room and grab the right paper. I give it to Harry and ask if they needed anything else. They didn't. No one even saw me leave.

Harry's behavior was really getting to me. I just wanted the happy, loving Harry back. But I didn't think that would happen until I got that stupid document. Which is why I had to do it. And I couldn't fail.

I headed straight from work to Wells Publishing. It was a tall building, not as tall as Harry's, but tall all the same. The people inside walked like a wicked force propelled them forward, a determined look on everyone's face. The receptionist at the bottom floor directed me to the top floor where Mr. Wells' office was located. As I stepped out of the elevator, another wave of nerves hit me. I was about to steal. I was about to destroy a man. I was about to ruin my chances of becoming a real author. But all of that faded when I remembered I was doing this for Harry.

"Hi," I say warily approaching the second receptionist. "I'm here to meet with Mr. Wells."

The woman looks up her computer and quickly glances at me. I can see her staring at my red dress, jealousy in her eyes. "Name?"

"Arabella Kirking." I dance my fingers across the counter, worried about what was about to take place. The receptionist eyes my fingers, a look of disgust in her sharp brown eyes.

"He's expecting you. Go back down the hall and it's the last door on the left."

Walking to the office, I try to gain my confidence. It was going to be fine. Harry would be there to draw his attention away. I'd be fine. Get the document and get out.

Knocking on the heavy wooden door with the letters C.W. printed in gold letters on them, I felt a wave of nausea hit me. I was no crook. I didn't even steal a pack of gum from the grocery store when I was a child. Mr. Wells seemed like a person who knew every little thing so if-

"Come in." I hear through the door. This was it. Stick to the plan.

Opening the door, I'm greeted by a wall of glass with the soft sunset shining through it. The office was big with windows covering the entire back wall, with a big black desk sitting just in front of it. And on it, sat his computer.

"Arabella, I'm so sorry this took so long." Mr. Wells says coming from a couch located to the left of his desk.

I put my hand out for him to shake and he accepts it with a firm one. "Me too. I'm glad you had called me back though."