Through You: Chapter 5
ARTEMIS
“Wow . . . that was . . . enthusiastic.” Cristina is out of breath as she rolls the hem of her skirt back down. After I rearrange my boxers, I pull up my pants. She wipes her face with one hand.
I don’t say anything and walk to the private en suite bathroom in my office. I clean myself, fix my tie, and return to my desk. “What are you doing here?” I ask. She knows I don’t like visits at work.
She arches a brow and smiles. “Oh, now you ask?”
I jumped her bones the second she entered my office. I didn’t even greet her or give her a chance to speak, for that matter. I needed the quick release of sex.
She sits on the other side of my desk. “We haven’t spent any time together in days, and I wanted to see you.”
“I’ve been swamped with work.” She is aware of this. One of the reasons we work well as a couple is that Cristina doesn’t make any demands and never complains. She knows me well and has adapted to my needs.
“I know. But I still miss you.” She sighs deeply.
I glance over and notice she is looking down, hoping to hide her sadness.
“Would you like to go out for dinner tonight?”
She looks at me with the biggest smile. “Of course.”
I smile back. “Then I’ll make reservations somewhere nice.”
She comes around the desk, leans over, and gives me a quick peck on the mouth.
“All right. I’ll see you tonight.”
She walks to the door, passing the general manager of purchasing, Hannah, on her way out. Hannah greets me with a smile as she enters my office and then proceeds to drop a file on my desk. “Good afternoon, sir.”
“I hope you have good news.”
“Yes, indeed. The bulldozer that was damaged has been fixed and is in perfect working condition. This file contains all relevant information about the machinery, the parts sourced, the cost of labor, etcetera. If you need anything else, please let me know.”
I let out a sigh of relief. The bulldozers are the most expensive machines we have in our inventory.
“Great. Thank you very much.”
She smiles politely and leaves. My doctor has strongly recommended that in order to avoid stress, I need to stop involving myself in every single detail that pertains to the operation of this company. Per his instructions, I need to trust my staff and dele-gate more, which I am unable to do, even though I’ve tried. I feel an overwhelming sense of obligation. My father placed his trust in me, and I would hate to disappoint him. I rub my face and sink back in my chair. I close my eyes and massage my temples.
I’m exhausted. My sleep-deprived nights are catching up with me.
“Well, this is a discouraging sight.” Alex’s voice catches me by surprise. When I open my eyes, he’s sitting next to my desk with his arms crossed. “I don’t mean to offend you, but you look awful.”
I met Alex, my best friend, in university. We were in the same faculty, although he studied finance. I hired him when I took over the reins of the company. He is one of the few people I trust. I try to ease the tension in my shoulders.
“What are you doing here?” I ask.
His broad smile lights up his face. Alex is a cheerful type.
“Always the charmer. What, I can’t drop by for a visit with my best friend?”
“I’m working.”
“Really? Because you look like you’re about to pass out from exhaustion.”
“It’s fine.”
“If you die, I’m not attending your funeral.”
I try to seem stern, but my eyelids are heavy. “I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?” Alex makes himself comfortable, puts his hands behind his head, and leans backward. “I ran into Cristina in the hallway. I was under the impression you didn’t mix work with pleasure.”
I roll my eyes. “What are you insinuating?”
“Well, she looked like she’d just been screwed.”
“Please don’t talk about her like that.”
He removes his hands from behind his head and slowly stands. “My apologies, m’lord. You’re in a crappy mood today.” He pauses and pretends to ponder. “But then again, you always are.”
When I don’t reply, he studies me attentively. Alex knows me so well. “You’re more frustrated than usual. What’s going on?”
“I told you, I’m doing just fine.”
“Look, you can keep deflecting, and I can keep asking if you’re okay until I wear you down and finally manage to extract a confession, but why don’t we save ourselves the time and you just tell me what’s going on?”
I sigh. “I think I might have come down too hard on someone.”
He pretends to be shocked. “No.”
“You don’t believe me?”
“If you’re actually feeling guilty, then you must have been pretty harsh. Who was it?”
I look away and sink deeper in my chair. Alex arches an eyebrow.
“Don’t tell me . . .”
“Alex.”
“Oh—I know that look. It was Claudia, wasn’t it?”
I don’t even know how he remembers her. “I told you to forget that name.”
He rolls his eyes.
“It’s hard to forget the name that my best friend called out every time he’d get drunk all through first year.”
“That belongs in the past.”
He sits down.
“Sure thing. What did you do to her?”
My mind flashes back to that moment, me watching her clean the tea I’d spilled. It’s been tormenting me—I don’t understand why I’m overcome with anger whenever I’m near her.
“You’ll slap me when I tell you what I did.”
Alex’s jaw drops. “Wow. That bad, huh?”
The memory of Claudia’s expression tortures me. But I keep that to myself.
Alex is looking at me intently. “Artemis, after all these years, you need to let her go. Stop harboring this grudge over something that’s in the past.”
“I’m not holding a grudge. I feel nothing for her.”
“You can lie to yourself, and to others. But we both know that’s not the truth. The anger and lack of self-control that take hold of you come from those pent-up feelings.”
“Enough. I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“Apologize to her, turn the page, and then be civil to her!”
I don’t respond. Instead, I get up and leave my office. Once I’m down the hall, I continue on my routine walk around to check on daily operations. Alex will get the hint.
After Cristina and I have our dinner, I drop her home and head back to mine. I loosen my tie the moment I enter and massage my neck to ease the tension. I can hear noise coming from the kitchen as I head there to get a glass of water. I haven’t been in the kitchen since the morning I put Claudia in her place. I won’t deny that remorse has been eating at me ever since.
The sound of Claudia’s voice spreads throughout the kitchen.
She’s singing. I stand quietly and watch her from the doorway. I never expected the uniform I forced her to wear would look this good on her. She sings while cooking, and holds the spoon as if it was a microphone.
I can’t help but smile. She has a lovely voice, and it brings back old memories, like that Sunday afternoon when we were younger, enjoying the pool.
We were sitting together on the edge, with our feet dipped in the water.
“Do you have a dream?” I asked her, out of curiosity.
She shook her head. “No. People like me can’t afford to entertain dreams.”
I frowned at her response. “Why not?”
“Because it’s a waste of time to give in to illusions that will never come true.”
I took a sip of my soda.
“You’re quite the pessimist. You know that, right?”
“And you are too quiet. You know that, too, right?”
That made me laugh. “But never with you,” I said.
“Yes, I know. But it’s an entirely different story with others.
You need more friends.”
“Does it bother you that you’re my only friend?”
She placed a loose strand of hair behind her ear and smiled.
“No, it doesn’t bother me.”
We sat in comfortable silence for a bit, then Claudia started to hum a song.Content bel0ngs to Nôvel(D)r/a/ma.Org.
“I know your dream,” I told her.
She moved her feet through the water.
“Hmm, tell me more . . .”
“Well, you love singing. Wouldn’t you want to be a famous singer one day?”
She looked down, her gaze lost in the crystal clear water.
“That would be—”
“What are you scared of? Admitting the truth won’t hurt anyone.”
She bit her lip and looked at me. The glint in her eyes gave her away.
“Yeah, that could be my dream. But I’ll deny it if you ever tell a soul.” She sighed before she smiled. “I would love to be a singer.”
Watching Claudia now, as she works and sings in the kitchen, I wonder if she kept that dream. Ah, what business is it of mine?
I clear my throat. She freezes on the spot, then gives me a quick glance and places the spoon inside the dishwasher. I’m surprised by the annoyed expression I see on her face when she turns around. I thought she would be embarrassed. Quite the contrary; she looks irritated. I suppose she has every right to be.
“Is there anything I can do for you, sir?” I’m surprised by how cold her voice sounds.
She isn’t irritated. She’s furious.
Her body language tells me that she’s one word away from exploding into a barrage of curses directed at me.
This is textbook Claudia; I have not intimidated her in the least. She will obey and bite her tongue because she has to in order to keep her job, not because she’s afraid of me—which doesn’t surprise me in the least. Even my brothers are a little terrified of me, but not her, never her.
“I’d like a cup of tea,” I reply, and take a seat at the kitchen table. She gives me a cold-eyed stare that almost makes me put my head down. “Please,” I finish my request, clearing my throat.
She sighs and prepares the tea in silence while I watch. Her red hair is pulled into a long braid that starts at the crown of her head and falls down her back. Although I can only see her side profile, the hairstyle perfectly emphasizes her features. She rubs her shoulder and grimaces slightly, looking tired. It appears she’s had a long day. That makes two of us.
I flash back to what happened the other day, and the feeling of remorse resurfaces. I’m not usually one to experience regret, so the unpleasant feeling is uncomfortable.
Distractedly, I glide my finger along the edge of the table. A cup of tea appears. I look up to see her standing in front of me.
Her icy stare is unsettling.
“Your tea, sir.” There isn’t a shred of respect in her tone, only disgust.
“Thank you.”
She turns around and carries on with her work.
I take a sip. I try to enjoy my tea but the awareness that I did something terrible is stuck in the back of my mind. She must feel my stare on her, because she turns to face me. She puts a hand on her cocked hip.
“If you’re going to apologize, you can do it now.”
It’s the first time she’s spoken to me in a familiar way, and surprisingly, it doesn’t bother me. She must read the confusion in my face because her expression immediately changes. She seems to have realized that she blurted out what she was thinking.
“Forget it.” She heads toward the kitchen door.
Before she can exit, I blurt, “I’m sorry.” She stops in her tracks but doesn’t turn around. I’m grateful she allows me to continue. “I deeply regret what happened the other morning. It was too much.
I was an idiot. And it will never happen again.”
I don’t expect an answer. I know her well. An apology is not enough to make amends. Oh, you know her? More like you used to know her. You hardly know her now. And are not in the least interested in knowing anything about her.
“Are you sorry?” She turns around. The fury is noticeable in her eyes. “You treated me like shit and humiliated me in front of your brother. And now you’re sorry?”
I get to my feet. “Claudia.”
She takes three steps toward the table. She takes my tea and empties the cup on the table. She turns and grabs a rag, which she throws at me. I barely catch it.
“Clean it—sir.” Her black eyes are bright with ire; I admit that I’m a bit scared of her. “And if you ever treat me that way again, I will punch you where the sun don’t shine. Apology accepted.”
Now that she’s facing me up close, I’m able to get a good look at her features. The faint bags under her eyes don’t diminish how beautiful she is. I remain silent while I wipe the table clean and she stares at me with her arms crossed over her chest.
“I’ve apologized and I’m done cleaning,” I inform her once I finish. “I believe we’re even now.”
She curls her lips. “I suppose. Now let’s try to behave professionally. I’m the staff at this house and you are the son of my boss—period.”
“So that’s all I’ve ever been to you, the son of your boss? In that case, you’re the hired help and nothing more.”
“Agreed.” She casts one last cautious glance my way before she disappears through the kitchen door.
She leaves me alone with a reminder of the distance that she always placed between us. It’s a distance so immense that it makes it difficult for me to feel her presence even when she’s right in front of me.