Endless: REWRITTEN

4. Amber

Natalie

"Come on, Natalie, you can't still be mad at me after a week." No response from me. I've resorted to not even giving Brad a morsel of casual conversation. I'm not even upset that he ditched me last week; I'm upset that he tried so hard to set up this dinner and when I finally throw him a bone, he fucks it up. This man has no sense of professionalism or even respect for me, let alone his family. I have to focus on my job, and that's the full truth.

"So you're not talking at all?" he questions.

"Only when I need something, sir."

"My family tied me up, what did you want me to do?"

"You could've at least called me so I wasn't sitting at the restaurant for an hour and a half like a moron."

"I couldn't get to my phone." It sounds like a half-assed excuse and I have zero time for the bullshit.

"I think we shouldn't take our relationship outside of this office. That's my personal opinion."

"It's a good thing I don't pay for your opinions about our relationship."

I pierce him with a glare. "Excuse me?"

"Look, I messed up, okay?" He sounds entirely apologetic again. "But I promise you, Natalie, I'm not trying to take things any further than something platonic. I just want to get to know the person who's managing my presidential campaign, okay? Is that a bad thing?"

"You've been disrespectful and inappropriate and I'm not going to entertain you any longer."

"Then quit. There aren't any other elections going on right now, so what are you going to do for work?"

"I'm qualified for any job I want, Brad. This isn't my last option and I certainly won't sit here and be demeaned by the likes of you."

"Let's try this again." His pleasant tone is back again, and it's making my head hurt. He's clearly unstable and that, in turn, makes me feel unsafe. "Tomorrow night, same place. I promise I won't stand you up."

"You're delusional if you think I'm going to dance that dance again," I mutter, refocusing on my work from the couch.

"If I do, you have permission to smear my campaign. I'll even drive us both there to ensure that I show up. Give me a chance to get to know you, and I swear, it'll be the last dinner we go to together."

"No. Drop it," I snap fiercely. This quiets him, finally.

Or at least until five-thirty when I'm walking to my car and he corners me in the parking lot, which I find incredibly scary.

"Ready?" he calls to me as he's approaching me.

"Ready for what?"

"Dinner. Remember, we agreed today."

I huff, my stomach turning. "That's funny, I remember distinctly telling you 'no'. Or do you not remember that part?"

"No, I don't," he stresses, walking up to me closely. My fingers find the straps of my bag, digging into the material to calm myself down. "Now... are you ready?"

He raises an arm and unlocks his car door with his key fob while still staring me in the eyes. This situation could go very wrong, very fast if I don't act correctly. And I don't know if I'll have enough time to grab the taser in my purse before he makes a move on me, he's standing that close. Not to mention that his eyes are following every little thing that I do.