Continental Breakfast (6 page)

Mr. Pettifor stands and looks flabbergasted that I didn’t just all at his feet
and beg him to tell me what he meant.

“So that’s it?”

“I had planned on staying a full two weeks, but Amelie is doing so well and she’s such a fast learner, I’ll only need to stay the remainder of the week to finish training her. I will be on call if she has any questions for as long as she needs,” I say, fighting the urge to sob into my hands.

And just like that, Mr. Indifference is back.

“Whatever. See yourself out. By the way, feel free to take the rest of the afternoon off to find another job. I’m sure Ms. Davidson and I can manage just fine without you,” he says, pushing me abruptly out of his office and slamming the door in my face.

I’m left reeling from Mr. Pettifor’s abrupt coldness. I sigh loudly, hang my head in
sorrow and make my way back to Amelie. When she sees my saddened state, she comes to me and hugs me.

“I’m not sure what’s going on, Ms. Bella, but I everything will be okay. Can you tell me something?”

“Yes, sure,” I say, sitting in an office chair.

“Why are you quitting when you clearly have feelings for Mr. Pettifor?”

Her question stuns me. “I don’t feel that way for Mr. Pettifor,” I try to deny.

“Oh, Bella, stop that. It’s also very apparent that he cares for you.”

I laugh sarcastically at her obvious misinterpretation of the situation. “What on earth makes you think that?”

“By the way he watches you when he you’
re not looking. By the way he completely ignores when you’re in the room. By the way…”

I can’t stand to hear anymore and I cut Amelie short. “I appreciate your opinion, but you’re wrong. Things have
transpired between Mr. Pettifor and I that have proven that he doesn’t feel the same way about me that I do about him. So, yes, you’re correct in the regard. I do care for him, but I can’t give him what he needs anymore. Please, Amelie, for the sake of your heart, understand this man is an island unto himself.”

“Ms. Bella, I have no intentions of falling for Mr. Pettifor. Quite frankly, he’s not my type. I will please and service him because it is my job and I take pride in my work, b
ut that is all. All you have to do is the give the word and I’ll back out of this job,” she says resolutely.

I tuck a strand of her
shiny hair behind her ear and smile. Oh, adorable, delicious Amelie. If I weren’t so completely straight and enamored with cock, I would devour this sweet little tart. She must sense my lesbian thoughts because she giggles to my touch, both of us eventually breaking into laughter.

My interview goes well enough. They’re requesting a letter of recommendation from Mr. Pettifor and I dread having to ask him for it. Not wanting another confrontation, I decide to text my request to him. Now that I’m done with the interview and have the rest of the afternoon off, I’m unsure of what to do with myself. 

I think back to Mr. Pet
tifor’s offer of setting me up in a condo. My feelings are mixed about it. On one hand, I appreciate his caring gesture of wanting me to be in a safer neighborhood, on the other, it makes me feel cheap, like I’m his mistress or dirty little secret. If I’m his mistress, who then would be his wife? His work, of course. It’s the thing he cares about the most. I’ve always revered his dedication and work ethic, wanting to be more like him in that regard. When and if I ever become a physician, I hope I can perform as well at my job as he does. He really is a man to behold and cherish. It’s unfortunate he’s so closed-off and distant. Most women won’t put up with it. Well, not a woman who truly loves him. I’m sure there are plenty of women lined up to get at his money and into his pants, but I sincerely hope he finds
true
love.

I’m sitting at a local coffee shop
across from Mr. Pettifor’s building and sipping on a latte, thinking about the last two years and trying to convince myself that I’m doing the right thing when I feel a tap on my shoulder.

“
Hiya, sexy.”

It’s Justin, my neighbor. I look around, trying to plot my escape.

“What are you doing in this part of town?” I ask him.

“Slu
mming,” he laughs. “No, really I’m just delivering something up the street. I saw you in here and thought I’d say hi.”

“Oh, well, hi,” I say nonchalantly.

“You look really hot in your work clothes. Have I ever told you that?” he says cloyingly sweet.

“Yes, you have. More than once, but thank you,” I say, trying to be polite but short.

“So how about that invitation?” Justin asks, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

He’s referring to asking me out
to a dance club. I lower my eyes to my coffee, avoiding making eye contact with the over-persistent Justin.

“Yes, what about that invitation, Ms. Darcy?”

I look up, startled to see Mr. Pettifor standing behind Justin. Justin spins around and looks Mr. Pettifor up and down, sizing him up.

“Who the hell are you?” Justin asks, straightening up and puffing his chest out like a rooster ready for a cock fight.

“I’m her boss.”

Mr. Pettifor’s look is fierce. His chest is also pushed out and his stance is pussy dripping sexy. I’ve never seen him look quite so…
protective
. He pushes past Justin and holds his hand out to me.

“T
here are some things we need to discuss, Bella,” he says, his eyes burning.

I place my hand in his and excuse myself from Justin who just stands staring, gape-jawed at Mr. Pettifor.  I grab my coffee and we walk over a secluded table. He politely pulls my chair out for me to sit in and then pushes it back in. This is just another of the many things I’ll miss; being treated like a proper lady.

Mr. Pettifor seats himself across from me and watches me silently for several minutes.

“What is
it, Mr. Pettifor?” I ask, exasperated of the quietness.

“I want to apologize for my outburst earlier. My behavior was
unforgivable. You deserve better than to be shoved and to have a door slammed in your face, especially after everything you done for me over the past two years. I hope you never allow another man to treat you so atrociously.”

I’m stunned into silence.

“Who was that boy?” he asks, referring to Justin.

“My neighbor.”

“I see. So he’s interested in you?”

I shrug my shoulders and take a drink of latte.

He sighs loudly, but continues on. “I received your request for a letter of recommendation. I’ve written it up and will send it to whomever you request.”

My cheeks flush thinking about what harsh words must be written. I look down at my coffee and sip nervously at it.

“I can assure you that the letter contains nothing but praises, Ms. Darcy,” he says, as if he’s read my thoughts.

“Thank you, Sir,” I whisper.

“It’s not too late, Bella…” he says softly.

When our eyes meet, his eyes are glassy and heart wrenching.

“You can still back out of this absurd idea of yours.”

“No, Sir, I can’t. You’ll be fine without me. There are women lining up to take my place, not just for my job, but for…”

“Stop, Bella. I won’t be fine,” he croaks out. “You never answered my question.”

“
Which one? The one about Svetlana or the one about Amelie servicing you?” I ask, trying to suppress my tears from the look on my CEO’s face.

“Both.”

“Do you really want me to tell you what you already know?”

“Bella, what is it that you think happened in my office the other day?”

“I’d rather not talk or think about it for that matter. It’s not my place to ask you about it, either. Your personal affairs are just that,
personal.
I am, after all,
only
the office help.”

“That’s not true and you damned well know that. I’m sorry
, Bella…” he starts to say as he reaches for my hand, but I can’t hear my name uttered from his perfect mouth or his apology for having another woman within earshot. His actions were cruel and thoughtless.

I stand and grab my clutch.

“No, I wouldn’t know that because you’ve never said as much. There’s no need for you to apologize because I have no right to try and put restrictions on your activities. I know my place, Mr. Pettifor and I know exactly where I stand with you.”

I practically run out of the coffee shop and into a cab, and I immediately let the tears that I’ve been holding back surge out of me.

The rest of my night is spent sulking in my apartment and browsing the want ads. Nothing but praises? I wonder what exactly he’s written about me. That I give good sex? I inwardly laugh at the thought of that being written and the look on any potential new boss’ face.

I wander over to my balcony and look out. When I scan the dirty street, Mr. Pettifor’s driver is seen sitting out front. Confused by his presence, I get dressed and venture outside.

I knock on his window and he rolls it down. “What are you doing here, Dante?”

“Mr. Pettifor insisted I sit watch outside your building. He doesn’t trust your
neighbors or your location,” he answers in his Italian accent.

Well I’ll be damned.
Is Mr. Pettifor jealous and concerned
?
No, surely not, and it’s wishful thinking on my part.

“This really isn’t necessary, Dante.  You can leave now,” I say in
an attempt to dismiss him.

“No, Ms. Darcy. I have strict instructions from Mr. Pettifor and you know how he feels about his wishes being disobeyed,” he replies with wide, exaggerated eyes.

“Yes, I do. Very well then. Can I bring you something – a soda or a snack?”

He smiles and nods his head appreciatively, “Yes, that would be nice. Thank you, Ms. Darcy.”

I go back upstairs and make a sub sandwich for Dante and take it to him, along with a cherry cola and some reading material. He thanks me profusely and I go back inside, and call it a night.

I wake later than usual and dress quickly, not wanting to be
any later for work than I already am. Poor Dante looks a wreck and I apologize for him having wasted his time watching over me. When I arrive at the office, Mr. Pettifor and Amelie are nowhere to be seen. There’s a sticky note on the computer stating Mr. Pettifor  is taking Amelie to be fitted for some new clothes. My heart sinks. So it’s real. I’m really being replaced. Being cried out from the previous day, I sink into the office chair and busy myself with the menial chores left for me to do.

Lunch time arrives and still, no Mr. Pettifor or Amelie. I call out for lunch so that I don’t miss any important calls for Mr. Pett
ifor and eat in the office alone. Late in the afternoon, Amelie’s sweet childlike and light-hearted laughter can be heard coming up the hallway. When she enters the office, she looks spectacular and her face is glowing with happiness. I immediately feel guilty for my horrible jealousy and envy.

“You look amazing, doll
face,” I tell her.

She does a twirl in the middle of the office, showing off her new frock and heels.

“Mr. Pettifor really has the most fantastic sense of style!” she shrieks.

“Yes, he does,” I nod.

Mr. Pettifor comes in a few short moments later; carrying a bag of what I can only assume is more goodies for Amelie. He sees me and freezes in his spot, his face going pale.

“I didn’t think you would really show up today,” he tells me.

“Why wouldn’t I? I told you I would stay the rest of the week. Do you not want me here? Are you really so eager to be rid of me?” I ask, hurt by his words and expression.

“God,
no
.  After they way you left yesterday, I just assumed that…”

Amelie’s face blanches at me and Mr. Pettifor’s uncomfortable exchange and she quickly excuses herself to the restroom.

“I see,” I say, standing and grabbing a small box to pack my things. I guess he and Amelie really will do fine without me.

“Ms. Darcy
, wait…”

“I’ve finished writing up some things for doll
face, er, I mean Amelie…” I stutter and Mr. Pettifor smiles slightly at my euphemism.

“You don’t have to leave right now. Please, I would like you to finish out the week,” he interjects. “I only took Ms. Davidson to be fitted for clothing because it seemed to me she couldn’t afford anything nice.
If I had known you would be here today… I was just trying to be kind to her, that’s all. Please don’t read into this,” he says frantically as I pack my belongings.

I ignore his impassioned plea and grab the last of my things.

“Mr. Pettifor, I want to thank you for everything you’ve done for me. I am truly grateful for the opportunity to have served you. You’ve taught me so much,” I say, turning to face him and tearing up. I grip my box of mementos tightly for support.