Borden (Borden #1) (16 page)

While she never spoke to me directly, her eyes constantly followed me. It wasn’t a glare or anything, but it was thoughtful and I didn’t like the attention.

That weekend I let Granny in on the news of my new job.

“Congratulations,” she cried, literally. “Finally some good luck has come your way! You deserve it.”

Yeah, except
luck
was called
Borden
, and I wasn’t sure I deserved the job. It wasn’t as though I had applied for it and had my fingers crossed.

Still.

It was paying my bills. I could afford groceries and my stomach was full. So it didn’t matter how I ended up with the job, the truth was it was worth having. I could endure Borden because, even if he was at times so annoying I wanted to smash his head into an ice block, he was tolerable too.

And it wasn’t like I was in a room with an ugly ogre either. My shallowness took advantage of his good looks and it eased the annoyance more times than I could count.

The second week went by.

Then the third.

Then the fourth.

Until the kiss at the end of the day was a robotic gesture that I did without thought or care. And dare I say I stopped holding my breath when my lips touched his cheek because his scent was nice and non-threatening.

I learned to discern Borden quickly being in that room with him for so many hours in the week. I sensed his moods and knew when he was angry or civil. During his civil moments, he let me have several breaks throughout the day. And during his angry fits, he’d fill up a bowl of pistachios on his desk and eat every single one of them while debating out loud who to fire. He’d trash the room with wrappers and half eaten food. Then he’d bring the poor employee in and intimidate them Borden-style, forcing me to watch.

I knew he drank water by the gallon and hated coffee.

“I can’t stand the smell of that shit,” he’d said once, motioning to the plastic cup of coffee on my desk. “It’s fucking beans, you know that?”

“
Coffee
beans, Mr Borden,” I icily replied.

“Beans are fucking beans, Emma.”

“Are you going to complain about it every single time I’m in here with my cup of coffee?”

“If the putrid smell of it reaches my nose, then yeah.”

I stopped drinking coffee in the office.

I knew that he was usually happy after a workout because he’d come to the office in the mornings with an extra oomph in his step, freshly showered with his gym bag over his shoulder. On one particular occasion, I’d stepped into the office in the morning ten minutes earlier and found him changing his top behind his desk, from a workout tee to a long sleeved sweater. Just before he’d thrown it on, he turned to me, watching me enter, and his blue eyes looked alive. I’d nearly had a heart attack at how huge he was. Tattoos took up almost every part of his muscular torso. He looked like a goddamn heavyweight boxer.

“See something you like?” was the first thing he cheekily asked.

I glared at him, red-faced and mortified, and hurried to my desk.

“I can change around you more often, if you’d like,” he added, his eyes drilled to the side of my face.

“That wouldn’t be very professional, now would it, Mr Borden?” I icily replied.

He chuckled, and I cringed at how obviously attracted I was to him. Needless to say, that was the last time I showed up early.

I knew that he only wore suits on days he made deals outside the office, and the one other place he frequented most was the port to look over the books. He liked to read the news on his computer. He bought me a sandwich for lunch on the days he was office-bound and never asked me what I wanted because he knew already – and I hated how expectant I’d become of these deliveries from him, or the fact I liked it.

I knew many things, but the one that got me the most was knowing that even when he was out of the office – no matter how occupied he might be – he would come back even minutes before I was due to leave and sit down at his desk and wait for his goodbye kiss. That he would watch me sometimes when he didn’t think I knew, and his gaze was so penetrating, I thought I could physically feel the heat of it.

It was a weird feeling knowing I was being watched and pretending I didn’t. Sometimes my heart squeezed and my stomach twisted, but not angrily. It was like a rush shot up in my veins that I was somehow fascinating enough to be observed by someone like him.

Yes, he was a criminal. Yes, he was a rage case lunatic. Yes, he made my skin crawl when I thought about the rumours that people spoke of him. But being around him was an entirely different thing, I discovered. With the expectant kisses at the end of the day, and his watchful gaze, and the irritating conversations he’d sometimes have with me, the combination of them all solidified my ease in his presence.

Marcus Borden no longer frightened me because Marcus Borden liked me.

Emma

“We have this horribly shitty replacement,” said Blythe on the other end of the phone. “I swear, I want to bitch slap her fifty times a day. I can’t believe Denny the Dick fired you like that all those weeks ago! I wish you’d come back because I’m sure he’d give you back your position with the way things are going and they are
not
going well.”

I brought the covers over me as I rested back on the couch. The chill in the air was abominable.

“I wouldn’t go back if he offered me all the gold in the world. Besides, I really need a better paying job, Blythe,” I told her. “I’m sorry you’re stuck with a useless person.”

“Yeah, I’d have done the same. How is your job anyway?”

“Yeah, it’s good. Everyone keeps to themselves.”

“But what’s it like working for Borden? Isn’t he scary as hell?”

I smiled reminiscently. “He is beyond scary as hell when he wants to be. But he’s also… normal.” That word was still weird on my tongue. Normal.
Nor
-
mal
.

“How’s his business going?”

I let out a breath. “Crazy, Blythe. The man makes so much money at Owls alone. I checked out the books for the other businesses, and it’s unbelievable. The man should write a book about turning profit.”

“Is he at the club a lot?”

“Yeah, always. That’s where he bases himself. Owls was his first place of business, so I imagine that’s where he feels the most comfortable working.”

“That’s insane. I can’t believe you’re working for him.”

“Me neither.”

She was quiet for a moment, and then she said with great curiosity, “So are you like…
comfortable
around him?”

What a weird question to ask.

“Um, I guess. Why?”

“Like comfortable enough that you’d ask him for some VIP passes?”

I rolled my eyes and laughed shortly. “Are you serious right now?”

“Just ask! That’s all I’m saying. Ask. I hear the VIP area goes crazy at his club, and since you’re all relaxed with him, maybe he’ll let us all in.”

I tapped a finger against my chin, thinking. “What do you mean ‘us’?”

“You’re obviously coming with me. I miss you. Don’t say no either. Not happening.”

Hmm. Could I really go out after the last disastrous incident, at the same club to boot?

But I felt fine at the idea. Maybe it was because I knew the club inside and out. I knew the people, knew Borden – which was the most important thing of all – and it was familiar to me.

“I know a hot guy,” she sang. “And you’ll totally love him. He’s so funny, and hot. Did I mention that already?”

“Alright,” I said before my brain could stop me with its logical bullshit, because brains were overrated. “I’ll let you know the asshole’s answer tomorrow.”

She squealed. I cringed in nerves.

How well this would go was dependent on what mood he was going to be in.

*

“The fuck you looking at, doll?”

His voice startled me and I jumped in my chair that was swivelled in his direction.

I didn’t reply. I nervously clasped my hands and looked at my screen for several long moments, and then back at Borden’s profile as he was leaning over the desk, signing his ridiculously nice signature on some documents.

How long does it take to master a nice signature anyway? Do you sit there for hours and squiggle away until it looks good? Or do –

“Am I fucking dying of leprosy or something?” he barked.

My jaw dropped. “What?”

He looked down at his hands and then at me. “I’ve got all my fingers. No leprosy here. So why the fuck are you looking at me so much?”

I felt stiff as a rod. I opened my mouth and then shut it again.

Sure I was comfortable around him, but it was only because we’d fallen into a routine. We didn’t speak all that much. I knew him mostly through observation, not through communication, and these were two vastly different things.

“Leprosy isn’t fatal,” I found myself saying.

He blinked and then looked at me like I was a moron. “What?”

“You said ‘am I dying of leprosy?’ Leprosy isn’t fatal, so…” I gulped and turned away from him, awkwardly clicking my mouse on the tabs on my screen.

After a few moments I peeked at him. He was still staring at me. Staring hard with his brows furrowed and his mouth ajar. A “what the fuck” look still accompanied his face.

“You got something stuck up your ass, Lynne?” he asked in all seriousness.

I shook my head in equal seriousness. “Nothing is stuck up my ass.”

“Then what the hell is your problem today? You keep looking at me like I’m going to smite you down. I’m tempted to now that you’re going around in circles instead of answering me.”

I licked my lips and paused. Because now his eyes were on my lips and his face went weird. He turned away for a second and then back at me. And my lips.

“Talk to me,” he demanded.

Out of nervousness, I went to lick my lips again –

“Stop licking those lips right now.” His eyes darkened with his words.

My chest tightened at the strain in his voice as he regarded my mouth like it was the most interesting thing he’d ever seen.

Okay, this was just awkward now.

“My friend wants to come to the club tonight,” I blurted out without thought, otherwise we’d be here all day.

“Good for your friend,” he replied blankly.

“She…
We
want to know if we could have some VIP passes…” I cleared my throat and clumsily ran my hand through my hair. Then I splayed my hair out so that it blocked him from seeing my profile.

It was quiet for a minute. Literally it was a minute. Not like an exaggerated form of a minute when people say they’ve taken a minute… I seriously stared at the clock and watched it tick an entire bloody minute.

I glanced at him quickly.

“I’m not going to bite you, for fuck’s sake,” he said in exasperation. “Look at me right now.”

I swivelled my chair to him again and slowly looked up at him. He was wearing casual clothes today: grey slim-fit sweater, black pants, no watch, no hair slickening – just normal Mr Borden with his unkempt hair. I liked him this way because he was usually laid back when he came to work casually dressed. He still made my heart thump, more so than the time he kissed me, and just thinking about it made me wonder why he never did it again.

“Come here.”

I took a few breaths and wondered why he wanted me closer to him. I stood up and hesitantly took a few steps to him. He leaned back in his chair and looked up at me as I approached him. Those blue eyes scanned my face and then dropped down to my legs before climbing back up again.

My face heated, and I tried to act normal – really, I did – but I knew I was failing miserably.

“You really want those VIP passes?” he asked in a low voice.

I nodded. “Yes.”

He brought his pen to his face and thoughtfully tapped it against the corner of his mouth. Distractedly, I looked at his lips where his pen was nearly touching and stifled the urge to gulp. The damn bully had really nice big lips.

“Two kisses instead of one,” he finally said. “One on each side.
Now.
”

Was that all? Ha! Score. Pecking him on his cheek five times a week was a ritual and impersonal. I didn’t even hesitate to do it anymore – no matter how unprofessional it was.

I went to the side of him and bent to his cheeks. His eyes followed mine as I lowered myself, and he
never
did that. He never watched me kiss him. He was usually concentrating on something else, never on me.

My chest tightened in nerves as I pressed my lips briefly on his cheek. I pulled away and slowly made my way to the other side of him since he wasn’t going to move his head. My body shook slightly and I felt a little wobbly in the knees. Why was he looking at me? I didn’t want him to look at me!

I bent down and he continued to watch me closely when I brushed my lips against his other cheek. The scent of him and his heavy eyes on me was a heady combination that left me a little unbalanced. As I began to pull away I felt his fingers suddenly at my face. My eyes widened and my heart thumped harder before I realized what he was doing. He tucked a few strands of hair behind my ear and then brought his hand down, still watching me.

I turned away quickly and rushed back into my chair. I kept my face turned away so that he couldn’t see how out of sorts I was.

“Is it just going to be you and your friend?” he asked curiously.

For some reason, I knew my answer would bother him.

“Emma?” he pressed.

“Um, no. It’ll be her and two others.”

I hoped he wouldn’t press even more –

“All women?”

I cleared my throat and fidgeted in my chair uncomfortably. “No. Two guys.”

Silence.

Had I crossed the line? We were in a weird situation. There was tension between us, but it was never expressed.

“Tell Graeme you want your names on the list,” he then said flatly. “Have as many people as you want.”

From my peripheral, I watched him turn back to his documents, a deep frown set on his face as though he was displeased by something – and I knew what that
something
was. I was just too in denial to acknowledge we’d developed an attachment to one another. His company was the norm for me. Seeing him every work day was a guarantee. He had become a vital part of my life whether I liked to admit it or not.

“Thanks,” I finally said weakly.

He didn’t reply and another minute passed by.

I cleared my throat. “So, uh, who’s Graeme?”

He exhaled slowly and shook his head in disbelief.

*

How was it my fault I didn’t know Moustache Man’s name was Graeme? It wasn’t like we were on first name basis. Our union wasn’t filled with him going, ‘
Hey there, I follow you around because a crazy fucking lunatic pays me to. I have this really distinguishable moustache, don’t I? Oh, and call me Graeme!’

But I told Grae – no, I’m still calling him Moustache Man – the names after Blythe had texted me them.

“Blythe, me, Jake and Thomas.”

He wrote the names down and gave me a nod.

Once home I dolled myself up to the best of my abilities. Since I was making more at this job, I had room in my budget for clothes. I’d bought some office clothes in the beginning to appease Lord Borden, and then a dress here and there. The one I picked out was a sleeveless white mini-dress that showed a lot of leg but covered up the boobage just right. I paid sixty dollars for it. For a poor girl, sixty dollars for a mini-dress was equivalent to owning Queen Elizabeth’s tiara.

I had no intentions to drink or to chat this guy up that Blythe had gone on about. While it’d been over a year since I’d been laid – and I was at times scratching at the walls like a cat in heat – I had enough sense not to jump into bed with just anyone.

I left my hair down in loose curls and went light on the make-up. Only after did I realize I’d steered clear from red and I didn’t want to admit to myself it was because Borden didn’t like the colour on me.
Who cares what Borden thinks? I can put on red if I want. Just…Just not tonight.

I couldn’t believe how content I was! Everything just felt different for me lately. The lack of stress over my financial concerns felt as though the shackles of poverty had been ripped from me. While I still had to budget for necessities and bills, I was nowhere near where I’d been prior to Borden’s forced recruitment of me.

Who knew that something bright would come of that dark time in my life?

I placed my apartment key around the chain on my neck; it was something I did out of habit that Granny had taught me once when I’d lost the house key coming home from school. A wallet you can drop, a purse can be snatched, but a simple necklace with a key around the neck often times went unnoticed.

After turning off the lights and putting on my white heels, I hurried out of the apartment, hoping that tonight would not end with a man choking in an alleyway.