Unabridged Read online

  I bit off a suggestion about what he could do instead of ordering me around, reminding myself that he was my boss now, no matter how ludicrous the idea was. I doubted he would leave me without a job, but it wasn’t wise nor professional for me to provoke him. I picked up my briefcase and got to my feet.

  “Okay. I’ll be there,” I said and turned to go.

  “Angelina... How are you?”

  His hesitant question took me off guard after the business-like tone of our entire conversation. I turned around slowly to face him, swallowing a knot in my throat.

  “I’m well,” I answered, more or less truthfully. “Working here for a couple of years. I like Seattle. How about you?”

  He pushed his chair away from the desk and stood.

  “I’m well too,” he replied, but something in his eyes lacked conviction. A thought occurred to me.

  “Blade, how did you come to work here?”

  He shoved his hands into his pants pockets.

  “Howie is a good friend of my father’s. He suggested I take this job.”

  “So, you didn’t know I worked here?” I asked tentatively, absently tracing the handle of my briefcase with my thumbs.

  “Not until this morning,” he replied, slowly walking toward me, his dark gaze locked on mine. “But I’m glad we’ve met again.”

  I wet my lips nervously, hoping he wouldn’t notice my tenseness.

  “So am I.”

  He stopped in front of me and, with a gentle motion, lifted my left hand. He studied it for a few seconds, while the contact with his warm palm was sending my pulse into overdrive.

  “You’re not married.”

  He said it as a statement, probably because I wore no rings. I quickly scanned his hands. No wedding band. My heart skipped a beat as I stared into his eyes, entranced by the charm I used to know so well. There were new shadows clouding them now, unknown mysteries I couldn’t yet decipher.

  “No, I’m not.”

  I think I expected him to kiss me—or maybe I was just imagining it from wanting it so much. Maybe he would have, but someone knocked at the door, making me jump.

  “Come in,” Blade said on a long gust of breath. I had the feeling he was as disappointed as I that we’d been interrupted. I didn’t have time to dwell on it though, because Belle’s pretty head popped in when she opened the door a crack. Her animated blue eyes went huge when she saw me. She divided curious looks between Blade and me as she entered the room holding a stack of files to her chest.

  “Excuse me, Mister Spencer,” she told Blade. “I brought the files you asked to see before the staff meeting.”

  Her tone was pleasantly inquisitive. When Blade thanked her and headed toward his desk to put the folders down, she gave me a what-the-hell-is-going-on look. I made a face at her to shoo her out, then followed her after saying a short ‘I’ll see you at three’ to Blade’s back.

  As soon as I closed the door behind us, I grabbed Belle’s arm and squeezed tightly.

  “Why the hell didn’t you call and tell me we have a new boss?” I hissed through my teeth.

  “I had no idea until this morning!” she said defensively. “But isn’t he a knockout?” she added in an excited whisper, as we both headed toward my office, our heels clicking on the light blue tiles. No one was about, and every office door was closed. No doubt they were all working, anxious to please the new boss.

  “Yeah, he is.” I sighed and went into my tiny office, with Belle still close on my heels. “Even hotter than he used to be.”

  “When I first saw him I—” She stopped dead, realizing what I’d just said. “Oh, my God!” she exclaimed, supporting both hands on the desk, as I sat in my chair and started emptying my briefcase, aligning the papers in front of me. “Don’t tell me Blade Spencer is your Blade, the one you told me about.”

  “He’s not mine. Not anymore,” I muttered, then reclined in my chair. “But yeah, that’s him. Our new boss.”

  She sat in the chair facing my desk and gaped at me, her blue eyes round and her Cupid doll mouth agape. “Holy crap! He is gorgeous! How could you be so stupid as to let him go, Angie?”

  “I told you why I did it, Belle. We had no future together. I almost had a heart attack when I saw him.” I plowed all ten fingers through my hair, massaging my scalp in an attempt to put the creaking wheels of my brain back into motion. “I don’t know how the hell I’ll manage to work with him. I never thought I’d see him again. Why, oh why is this happening to me?”

  “Maybe it’s a sign, you idiot! Maybe God took pity on you and decided to throw him into your path again. I hope this time you won’t be so stupid as to let him go,” Belle said, shaking her head in mock disgust. “Is he married or seeing someone?”

  “How should I know? I didn’t ask. But he has no wedding-band,” I confessed, making her grin knowingly.

  “Now we’re talking... Listen, I have to run, but maybe after hours we can go get something to drink. I’m not supposed to meet Henri until seven,” she added, referring to her current boyfriend. “Then you’ll tell me all about him.” She stood, tucking one of her shoulder-length blonde curls behind her ear. “Do you know anything about this meeting? Makes me nervous as hell.”

  I shrugged. “Nope. We didn’t talk about it.”

  “Then what did you talk about?”

  “Large penises. It has to do with my latest article. I’ll tell you later,” I went on, laughing when I saw her jaw drop comically.

  “Okay. I’ll make sure you do. You never talk to me about large penises,” she remarked, pouting.

  “I haven’t seen one in three years.”

  “Oh,” she moaned, clutching a hand to her chest. “So he does have a large—”

  “See you at three!” I cut her off loudly in a singsong voice.

  She got out mumbling something uncomplimentary. I closed my eyes, letting my head fall on Gym’s headrest. Gym was my desk chair, named that way so I could honestly say I spend hours and hours in the Gym every day.

  My head was spinning, overwhelmed by all the morning’s events. How could I work with Blade? I asked myself for the tenth time. Earlier, when I’d been so close to him I could feel his breath on my face, I had completely stopped thinking. I was pretty sure that if Belle hadn’t appeared at that moment, I would’ve yanked Blade’s shirt lapels and crushed my mouth to his, as I once used to do. I wondered if he still liked it. I ached to kiss him, to hold him. I wondered if the need I thought I’d seen in his eyes was real or just a figment of my imagination.

  “God, you have to stop this!”

  My voice echoed off the pale beige walls of my small office. I stood abruptly and paced the room, feeling claustrophobic for the first time since I got that cozy little room for myself. I walked to the big window with its cheap, white blinds and looked out over the city. People going about their business, cars rushing on the crowded avenues, a stray cat sitting in the sun on the hood of a parked car. Everything seemed normal, even though my whole world had changed in a heartbeat.

  But it doesn’t have to be bad, I told myself, retracing my steps to my desk. Maybe Belle was right. What if this was a second chance? A sign? No, I couldn’t yet think so far. I couldn’t yet hope. I’d take this one step at a time. I just needed to focus on my routine. Steadier, I sat and began organizing my notes. I had a column called The Motley Chronicle, where I could mostly write about everything I wanted. At least, the annoying Howie let me write anything I wanted. Now Blade was to decide about that, and my satire from this morning was still under debate.

  On the other hand, I wrote one review per week. I reviewed either books I wanted to read, or books of authors who requested reviews. At the moment, I was reading a book called The Road of Moebius, written by a certain Chriss D. Ross, a mysterious European author who had never appeared in public. The mysterious gig seemed to work, because he was quite successful, even though this was his first book. I was engulfed in it. It was a fantasy story unlike anything I’ve read bef
ore. It reminded me a bit of Solaris or Roadside Picnic, but this author had something above the others.

  I made some coffee and resumed my reading, munching on one of the croissants I always carried in my handbag. I was so absorbed by the book that I hadn’t realized someone knocked at my door until a head popped in. It was Jim, one of the proofreaders—a nice guy with non-descriptive blond hair, blue eyes made to appear larger by the oversized glasses he wore, and a thin wiry body.

  “Angie, meeting hall,” he said in his almost apologetic voice.

  “Gosh, it’s three o’clock already? Thanks, Jim. I’ll be right over.”

  I put the book down and stretched vigorously, massaging my aching neck. Then I got to my feet and went to face the music.

  Three

  The entire staff was already gathered in the meeting hall, throwing anxious glances toward Blade, who sat at the head of the long conference table, a pile of folders in front of him.

  Unabridged had a permanent staff of ten people: five editors—Belle and I among them, two proofreaders—which wasn’t nearly enough in my opinion, two computer geeks and one illustrator. For such a large operation, the staff was quite insufficient, so I wasn’t exactly expecting Blade to fire anyone, unless he planned to replace them. Still, everyone looked nervous and uneasy.

  When I entered, Blade gestured for me to have a seat in one of the free chairs.

  “Thanks for joining us, Miss Jameson,” he told me as I sat, smoothing my skirt. “Now that we’re all here, I think we can officially begin the meeting.” He rose and started pacing the room as he spoke, while everyone followed him with their gazes. “I’ve had the chance to have a word with each one of you in private, but that doesn’t mean we got to know each other so soon. Howie told me how attached you all were to him.”

  Jeff, one of the IT geeks, didn’t quite manage to muffle a snigger.

  Blade paused briefly, looking just a bit amused. “However,” he went on, “I hope we can all have a good relationship. Until you get to know me on a more personal level, I will briefly outline the changes I plan to make to Unabridged.”

  At the word ‘changes’, everyone’s ears sharpened and the air itself took on an expectant stillness. Blade stopped in front of the window and turned to us.

  “I want to expand the magazine,” he said. “Some of you are overworked, and some of you need more assignments. I will make sure everyone does their job properly. In addition, I will hire more people. I want us to publish more short stories and essays. I also want to include in the magazine chapters from both published and unpublished authors, like a series, so in a number of weeks we’ll publish an entire book. I’ve been contacted by lots of authors and publishers who are willing to pay a good percentage for their work to appear in Unabridged. And I want the editors to write more reviews, since we receive hundreds of requests.”

  He turned his gaze to Corinne, the illustrator—a forty-something plump brunette wearing thick spectacles and old-fashioned clothes.

  “Corinne, I want you to liven up the illustrations. We’re a modern publication, but our illustrations look like those of an eighteenth-century pamphlet.”

  Corinne blushed furiously, but didn’t dare open her mouth. Blade moved to Jeff and Robert, the two IT guys, and started telling them what changes he wanted to make in the formatting and appearance of the magazine.

  As he spoke, I couldn’t take my eyes off him. I watched his hands, strong and sure, gesticulating now and then to emphasize a point. Then my eyes moved to his handsome face. I delighted in analyzing his every feature, now that he wasn’t aware of my staring at him. When he spoke, his dark eyes were alive, reflecting the involvement he had in his work. For the first time, I thought of the repercussions his being editor-in-chief will have on the magazine, not only on my personal life. Reading the devotion and enthusiasm with which he outlined his plans, I started to think his coming there was a great thing.

  When he turned his head to answer a question one of the editors asked him, I noticed he still had the scar that marked his temple, at the corner of his right eyebrow. It wasn’t exactly visible, noticeable only if one looked for it. I vividly remembered the night he’d gotten that scar. It had been the day when I’d taken my degree in Journalism. The day I’d left.

  “Miss Jameson.”

  I blinked startled, wondering how many times he’d spoken my name before I heard him.

  Everyone was staring at me, curious and dismayed.

  “Yes?” I croaked, my throat dry and scratchy.

  Blade watched me, his expression unreadable, but somehow I had the feeling he knew or suspected what I was thinking about. He removed a sheet of paper from one of the folders on the table. When I saw what it was, I think I blushed. Again.

  “I have here an illustration you attached to your article, the one you brought me this morning. Did you make this?”

  “Yes I did,” I replied somewhat defensively, thinking he planned to mock my amateurish attempts in Adobe Photoshop. It was a cartoon-like image, which I’d made from vectors—the picture of two women facing one another. One was a sloppy cavewoman dressed in leopard skin and holding a rough club. The other was a smart-looking businesswoman wearing an elegant suit and holding a briefcase. Above this humorous composition I had written Women Versus Females. It seemed really funny and savvy at the time, but now I wasn’t so sure.

  To my surprise, Blade looked again at it and grinned.

  “It’s excellent,” he said, then proceeded to pass it to the others. “What do you all think?”

  Murmurs of approval, an enthusiastic giggle from Belle and even barks of laughter circled around the table, as my wannabe illustration passed from hand to hand. Corinne was the last one to look at it, a sour expression on her pinched face.

  “What do you think, Corinne?” Blade wanted to know.

  She put the sheet on the table, pushing her glasses higher up her long nose. “I think it’s preposterous. Unabridged is a magazine of prestige, not a comic book. We write about serious things here. We have an image to uphold. If you publish things like this it would lower our standards.”

  I was outraged and was just opening my mouth to give the old frump a piece of my mind, when Blade said, “Do you really think so? Because I don’t agree with you. We have to attract young readers, as well as elderly ones. And at the moment, we have no young public. We need to make the magazine fun, to find ways to make youths love it as well. Something for the entire family to read—that will be our new motto.”

  Corinne sniffed, with her nose in the air. “Young people today don’t read anything but emails and messages on Facebook,” she said disapprovingly.

  “Most of them, yes,” said Blade, “but not all. I’ve seen kids and teenagers reading in the subway, in the park, in cafès. There’s still hope and potential there, if we know how to approach them. Angelina.” He turned to me, nodding at my illustration. “I want you to do more of these. Work with the editors, see what subjects they treat and what ideas you have regarding the illustrations. And, of course, you’ll have to work with Corinne on this.”

  Corinne’s lips tightened with animosity, as did mine, but none of us said anything. Belle, who was sitting across from me, made desperate faces to keep me quiet, her blue eyes bulging in distress. However, I didn’t plan to say anything yet. It would have been tactless to defy Blade’s authority. After all, there was absolutely nothing between us now. For all I knew, he might not even remember me as more than another girlfriend that passed through his life.

  I fumed in silence until the end of the meeting. When Blade dismissed us, I was hot on his heels. He’d barely closed his office door when I barged in, slamming it behind me. He put the folder he held on his desk and turned around to face me.

  “Have you ever heard of knocking?”

  “What do you think you’re doing?” I demanded, standing with my back against the door and my hands folded on my chest. “I can’t work with that old shrew, Corinne. She hates my guts
and I can’t stand the sight of her. Howie knew that very well, that’s why he didn’t have us interact in any way.”

  “Well, I’m not Howie,” he replied conversationally, coming toward me. His negligent tone and posture irked the hell out of me, because they contrasted strongly with my irritation.

  “Obviously. He knew better how to manage the staff and keep everyone happy. Seems to me you’re going to create a lot of conflicts around here,” I said peevishly.

  He stopped right in front of me, his eyes narrowed. For a moment I thought I’d crossed the line. He planted one hand against the door, just next to my head, and stared down at me. His nearness was overwhelming as he towered over me, his tall frame placing me in shadow. I raised my chin defiantly to return his stare and the back of my head touched the wooden door.

  “Do you have a problem with working under me, Angelina?” he asked huskily, lowering his face to an inch of my own, his dark brown eyes flashing with heat.

  My heart hammered loudly in my ears. My chest rose and fell rapidly with every breath I took. I opened my mouth to reply, but I had no idea what to say. Did I have a problem working under him? As we stood like this, I would have done anything just to be under him. To feel his weight on top of me again, to have his hot, hard body next to my own. Oh, the bliss of those memories made shivers of desire run through me.

  Involuntarily, I lowered my gaze to his lips. They looked so soft, sensual and alluring, making me wonder if they were still as sweet as I remembered. I must have closed my eyes, torn between the past and the present, because in the next instant I felt his mouth seeking mine.

  That first touch of our lips made me feel weightless, and at the same time my entire being seemed to liquefy. I surrendered my mouth to his blindly, kissing him back with all the passion that had burned inside me for a long, long time. When his tongue stroked mine, I responded in blissful abandonment, wondering vaguely if one could faint from pure pleasure.