The Stranger Behind My Orgasm

Abigail

"Redo it,"

My eyes twitched as I blinked rapidly at the impassive statue currently sitting behind the massive desk. This statue was the exact replica of my boss Finnegan Wolfe.

I would have thought the statue was human, but judging from the blank look on his face, those icy emerald green eyes and the fact that the man had made my life a living hell for three days now, he was definitely not human.

"Gaping at me isn’t going to get the work done, get to it," He barked and for a moment, his eyes tore away from his laptop screen to meet me, then he cocked his head to the side and popped up a brow like he was daring my daddy tongue to get into action.

It had been like this since I resumed on Monday. I had come to work, all shaky, my body trembling both from losing Raymond Cole over the weekend, to Finnegan finding out every secret that I had managed to keep from him.

Yeah, you could call Saturday my day of reckoning. It was hell.

I had fully expected to be slapped with a sack letter on the face and I was ready to grovel and plead my case, but it was worse. Oh, much worse.

Wolfe did not fire me. No, he kept me around and tormented me.

"I followed your instructions to a tee, sir. You haven’t even looked at it." I murmured, the document in my hand crushing under the weight of my hard grip on it.

Nothing I did was good enough. Even following his instructions, there was always something I did wrong.

"I don’t see it," He tossed off at me, turning back to the system. "If it’s too much for you to handle, you could always resign,"

My body muscles bunched in anger. Too much for me to handle? Nothing was too much for me to handle and he knew that. I was grateful that he didn’t fire me or drag the Kellerman name through the business circles of New York or I would be back to L.A.

My shoulders slumped as the thought sunk in. He did have a right—every right to be angry.

"Is there anything else you would like me to do?" My grip on the document relaxed.

He would tire of this soon. I would take every punishment until he would stop being so stiff and finally forgive me. The fact that he hadn’t fired me was enough to give me hope right?

His eyes flicked up to meet mine again, his sculpted face carrying a mocking expression. "My suit for the gala event, pick it up. I want the corrected document and the suit before my twelve o clock,"

My wrist flicked to show the time on my watch. "That’s in thirty minutes!"

He said nothing and continued tapping on his tab. There was no way I could do both in thirty minutes.

"Finn," I sighed, taking a step closer to his desk. His shoulders tensed visibly, straining under his crisp white shirt. His suit coat hung on a coat hanger close to the door while a grey and black checkered tie hung around his neck. "Can we please talk about-"

He replied with a deadpan look on his face. "You have twenty nine more minutes or your job is on the line, Miss Kellerman. If I were you, I’d judiciously use it,"

Well shit. I didn’t think it would be easy, but I also didn’t think he could get any harsher as a boss.

My heels hit the marbled floor as I made my way out of his office and dropped my ass on my seat, my black skirt clinging to every inch of me like a second skin.

I dropped my head back against the chair, biting back the urge to scream. What the hell was I supposed to do now?

How would I fix things with him and also find the asshole who had killed Cole? My head racked with an ache that felt like a million needles were having a party in it.

It was that guy. The one who lied about being Raymond’s brother. It was either he killed him or he had something to do with it. I would be meeting up with Annette later to get the CCTV footage from a street camera close to Cole’s house.

But there was another matter.

I reached for my phone on the desk and played the voicemail Cole had left after calling me several times that Saturday night.

"Abigail, there’s something I have to tell you," His breathing was ragged as the sounds of shoes hitting the floor told me he was running. "It’s the company. It’s linked to your parents’ company. I have some things I got on my phone and... and I’ll mail them to you as I get home. You aren’t picking up, dammit. Where are you?"

A choked moan forced it way out my lips and I clamped a hand over my mouth, fighting the tears and failing.

I had listened to his voicemail over and over since Saturday, blaming myself, hating that the one time he needed me, I hadn’t been there for him. I would be damned if I let his death be in vain.

I never got the email. When we asked the morgue attendant for Cole’s belongings, especially his phone, the beady eyed woman told me rather hatefully that his brother had claimed it all.

She didn’t believe I was Cole’s daughter but she would believe that henchman looking dude was Cole’s brother, fucking hilarious.

It only led more and more to me concluding that the jackass was the one who killed Cole. Was he the reason Cole was always wary, watching his bag, shaking especially that night that I had gone to his place.

He sounded like he knew Cole a little well because how did he know the detective didn’t have a daughter?

With a sigh, I called the dry cleaning company that handled Finnegan’s suit while busting my ass to redo the document he had asked me too.

After a few more hours of torture, the clock finally hit five and I tore out of the building.

"Jesus Christ, was it that bad?" Annette chuckled as I approached my car in the car park. She had arrived a few minutes to five so we could go to Cole’s house from here.

"You have no idea," I groaned, fishing my keys. "Let’s go find our guy."