Safe Words Page 2

  For a moment, I stood motionless, in shock. I nodded and turned towards the door. As I reached for the handle, I heard her speak behind me.

  “And Ms. Ross,” Scarlett called after me. I turned on a heel to face her again. “Find something to wear that I can stand to look at.” When her eyes wandered on me once more, I nodded and turned back towards the door, letting myself out.

  My legs had turned to jelly the minute I escaped Scarlett’s office. I managed to find a seat outside. Andrea was busy on the phone, but she studied me with stern eyes as I sat down. As soon as she finished her conversation, she turned towards me.

  “There’s no need for you to stay,” she said, standing from her desk. “Or do you need me to hold your hand to walk you out?” Andrea looked at me and then the work on her desk, doing her best to pay me little mind.

  “Scarlett told me to make myself useful,” I said, still processing the idea that my standing up for myself had gotten me the position. Or maybe it had been the statement of the mustard stain. The idea made me almost laugh, but I held it in. Whatever it was, I was staying. “I assume you’d be the one to ask what to do.”

  Andrea stared at me in shock. “You’re joking.” When I didn’t reply, she shook her head, leaning back against the wall behind her. “Come here,” she said, placing a hand on the seat in front of her. I moved to stand beside her, and when she motioned for me to sit, I did as she instructed. “This is your desk,” Andrea said curtly. “I was sitting here while we found a replacement. Which, I suppose, is you.” Her voice was in disbelief. She continued. “I work as the office manager. I’ll help you get started, but you have to learn all of this yourself. And Scarlett is very particular.”

  Andrea walked me through working the phones and set up an account for me on the computer. I was shown Scarlett’s schedule and instructed of my responsibilities. Before I knew it, Andrea had left me alone to my own devices. Once I was able to breathe, I made my way to the restrooms. I washed the stain on my shirt with soap and water, praying it would be enough. As soon as I returned to my desk, the phone rang. Once. Twice.

  Finally, I had enough nerve to answer. “This is the office of Scarlett Stone, how may I help you?” Jamie, from Gucci, calling her back from earlier. I panicked for a moment. Did I transfer the call to Scarlett? Did I take a message? Andrea hadn’t exactly given me all the answers and had left me to fend for myself. I put him on hold and made my way to Scarlett’s office. When I knocked, she called out for me to enter. My heart ached a little in my chest, but I shoved the anxiety away.

  “Scarlett,” I said, pressing my body against the door frame while I made brief eye contact with her. It was hard to maintain my gaze for how she looked back at me. “Jamie is on the line for you.”

  “I’m in a meeting,” Scarlett said, turning back to stare at her computer. Though she wasn’t, I understood. I nodded, reaching to close the door. “Ms. Ross.” I looked at her again. Those eyes burned into me. “You’re to call me Ms. Stone.” The way she drew out her name gave me feelings I couldn’t explain.

  I nodded, my face going flush. I closed the door behind me and made my way back to the desk. When I sat back down, I put the phone to my ear.

  “Jamie? Yes, I’m so sorry, she’s in a meeting. Can I take a message?”

  “I THINK IT LOOKS FABULOUS on you, Nat.” I stood in front of a department store dressing room mirror. Mortified, I turned in a circle for my best friend Justine, letting her have a look at the third outfit we’d found that evening. My body was barely functioning after the busy afternoon I’d had. There hadn’t been a spare moment. Even still, in spite of my exhaustion, something about fulfilling Scarlett’s needs made me feel exhilarated. I was finding myself anticipating what the following day would bring.

  Which was the only reason I was enjoying this shopping trip. The latest outfit Justine had picked out for me was a bit too revealing for my tastes, but it showed off my hourglass frame. However, Justine looked satisfied.

  “It’s Calvin Klein. You’re beautiful,” Justine said. While she gawked at me a moment longer, I couldn’t help but continue venting about the day.

  “You wouldn’t believe the hold this woman has on her employees,” I told her as she adjusted the collar of the blouse and did another walk around me. “It’s insane. I doubt anyone has ever questioned her authority.”

  “Including you,” Justine gave me a smirk. “This one is a keeper. Try on the last outfit, and we’ll go.” When she disappeared from the room, I heard her lean against the door outside. “Why do you think she let you have the job?”

  “I have no idea,” I replied, slipping into the last set of clothes. The blouse looked like something Andrea might wear, with frilly sleeves and lace around the neckline. “Maybe it was my big speech I gave. She was right. I have no interest in all of this fashion crap.”

  “Hey now,” Justine said, tapping on the door a few times. “Don’t diss the Gucci!”

  “I would never,” I replied sarcastically, as I finished dressing. “Now come see this.”

  After I’d finished spending a painful amount of my monthly budget on three new outfits, Justine and I made our way back to my apartment. We picked up some Thai food and poured ourselves glasses of wine. As we settled on the couch together, the TV acting as ambient noise in the background, my phone buzzed in my pocket. When I checked it, I scowled.

  “What?” Justine asked. When I shook my head, it only egged her on further. “Oh, come on, who is it?” She smacked the phone from my hand, and it landed in hers. When she checked the caller ID, her face contorted into a similar expression as mine had.

  “She still has the nerve to call you?” Justine sat down her food on the coffee table in front of us and started to answer. A wave of panic rushed through me. My hand reached out, trying to snatch the phone away from her.

  “Oh God, please don’t answer,” I begged her. Justine stopped herself when I did and instead the call went to voicemail. A rush of relief filled me. The last thing I needed after a day like today was to have to talk to her.

  “Nat, you need to tell her to back the hell off,” my friend scolded me. I nodded in agreement and sighed. My back fell on the couch. As I set my phone back on the table, the familiar flash of a voicemail message stretched across it.

  “Natalia Elizabeth Ross, don’t you dare listen to it,” Justine said firmly, but I ignored her, pulling the phone to my ear. I waited as it rang through, the automated voice droning on for a moment. When I heard her voice, it sent feelings through me.

  “Hey Nat, it’s Meg. Just trying to reach you again. Give me a call when you get this. I just want to talk.”

  “What did she say?” Justine asked me when I sat the phone on the table. I still couldn’t discern what I was thinking about the situation. “Let me guess. I just want to talk..” When I didn’t answer, Justine sighed frustrated. “I swear if she calls again I’m answering and giving her a piece of my mind. This has to end.”

  I didn’t disagree, but I stayed quiet, digging into my food. Justine didn’t press it further, and the conversation turned back to work and our struggle to keep our post-college journalism dreams alive. By the time Justine left for the evening, I couldn’t keep my eyes open.

  As I laid in bed, covers bundled around me, my mind wandered to thoughts of Scarlett Stone. Those intense blue eyes studying every inch of me.

  “You’re to call me Ms. Stone.” I shivered.

  Chapter Two

  IT WAS A LITTLE AFTER five in the morning when I awoke frantically from a pleasant dream. I couldn’t remember what it was about, too busy searching for my phone that was ringing. The call ended and several seconds later it began again. Finally, I reached it from under the covers. The number was one I didn’t recognize.

  “Hello?” I mumbled, still half asleep and incoherent. That changed when I heard Andrea’s voice on the other end of the line.

  “I need you to pick up twelve coffees before work from the coffee shop across the
street from the Baker Publishing building. No other coffee shop but that one, are we clear?” By the time I realized what she had asked, I had no chance to reply. I wondered how she had found my phone number, but I decided not to ask. “You’ll need a pen. We have some picky orderers.”

  The list was a mile long. When Andrea finished, she instructed me to pick up a dry cleaned suit for Scarlett on my way in, and to arrive early enough to help tidy her office. By the time I was ready and had packed my things to leave, I was already running late. A taxi was waiting alongside the curb outside of my apartment and I slid inside before another gorgeous woman could steal it from me again.

  While I waited outside of the dry cleaning store for the few minutes till it opened, I checked my phone. There were no more messages from Megan and she’d thankfully not texted. Even still, I played her voicemail again while I waited, and then hated myself for it.

  Juggling twelve coffees in two trays and a cleaned suit across a busy Manhattan street, into a high rise and up twenty two flights in a jolting elevator was a nightmare. How I’d managed, I wasn’t sure. Andrea was waiting for me at the doors, a scowl on her face.

  “I swear, if you don’t start getting here on time...”

  I studied the clock behind her. It was seven thirty, exactly when I’d been asked to arrive. “I’m right on time,” I said, shoving a tray of coffees into her. “Take this, please.” The demand that came out of my mouth surprised me, but Andrea didn’t argue with me. Instead she held the fiery expression on her face as she pushed open the door. When we’d gotten inside, she took the suit from my arm.

  “That was freshly pressed this morning!” Andrea scoffed. “You need to be very careful with it. It’s a Brunello Cucinelli suit you’re holding. You’d be working off the cost of it for months if something happened to it. Not to mention what Scarlett would do to you.” Though I wasn’t sure who the designer was, I could only imagine the consequences if I had messed it up. “Coffee is here!” Andrea called into the office, interrupting my thoughts.

  A rush of people surrounded me. Each of the cups had been labeled with initials, a detail I hadn’t realized until they’d disappeared. I was certain I’d get used to my coffee and dry cleaning runs. When the drinks had vanished, I noticed one left, unlabeled. Andrea took it from the tray and handed it to me. “That’s for you. I hope you drink it black. We don’t pay for assistants to have soy milk lattes.”

  I took it graciously, having assumed I wouldn’t be getting anything at all. Robin, the receptionist, disposed of the trays while I followed Andrea back to my desk. Before I had a sip of my coffee, I was ushered into Scarlett’s office. We spent the next twenty minutes organizing every corner of the room. Andrea explained in great length what Scarlett expected. The room was already pristine by my standards. After watching the careful considerations Andrea took, I realized that Scarlett must have been neurotic in regards to order.

  When the room was to Andreas liking, we stepped out, with only moments to spare before I noticed the familiar scatter of employees. I sat straight at my desk, left alone now that Andrea had instructed me of what to do. The room went quiet as I caught the familiar clicks of stiletto heels along the polished wood flooring.

  “My jacket,” Scarlett’s voice echoed through the open floor space of the office as she spoke to Robin. I heard her move to retrieve it. When Scarlett walked inside and revealed herself to the room, I found myself breathless yet again. Today she wore a well-fitted black dress that cut off at mid-thigh. It hung perfectly in all the right places and accentuated her fit frame. A dark shade of lipstick adorned those pursed lips. I stared at her for far too long. When I realized, she was studying me from the front of my desk.

  “Get Stefan from Marc Jacob on the phone immediately.” The way she spoke sent a shiver across my spine. It was her tone, so smooth and buttery, yet so authoritative. I stood up straight, hoping for a moment she’d noticed the effort I’d made to look good for her. Instead, she brushed past me and into her office. My eyes couldn’t peel away until she’d shut the door behind her.

  I searched through Andrea’s contact files she’d shown me the day before. When I couldn’t find Stefan’s name, I panicked for a moment. I pulled myself together and dialed the number Andrea had listed for Marc Jacob. When I heard the click of the line, I asked the woman who answered for Stefan.

  “This is Natalia Ross from Stitch.” She connected me without another word. It continued to baffle me what a hold the woman had on everyone she met. “Stefan? This is Natalia Ross, calling on behalf of Scarlett Stone. I’ll put you through. One moment.” The extension, which I’d ingrained into my memory the day before, flew from my fingers. When I’d hung up the phone, I took a deep breath. My heart raced in my chest and I found it hard to keep myself steady in the seat. Even still, it was an exhilarating feeling.

  For a few minutes I busied myself with the long list of To Dos I’d prepared before I’d left yesterday. The work never seemed to end. Just as I’d finished composing a memo to another fashion blog in San Francisco, I listened to the door to Scarlett’s office open. When her throat cleared behind me, I turned in my chair.

  The blood drained from my face so quickly I felt lightheaded. Held between two long and delicate fingers, was my coffee. When my eyes moved to Scarlett’s face, her lips pursed even tighter than normal. I swallowed hard, waiting for her to speak.

  “What is this, Ms. Ross?” Scarlett asked me. She obviously knew what it was. I even suspected she knew it belonged to me. Of course she knew, anyone else in this office would have known better than to leave it in her pristine room.

  “A c-coffee,” I replied, barely able to breathe.

  “And whose coffee is it, Ms. Ross?” That voice. It gave me shivers every time she spoke. I struggled to answer.

  “Mine, Ms. Stone,” I replied. After I spoke, I observed as Scarlett walked the short distance to the front of my desk. She sat the cup down, arranging it so the hole in the lid was facing towards me. After her hand moved away, I managed to look up at her again. Those piercing blue eyes were studying me.

  “Come into my office, Ms. Ross,” Scarlett said. She meant now. No thinking, no uttering of words. It meant stand up, move around my desk, and follow at her heel. Which was precisely what I did. “Shut the door,” she said when we’d made it inside. I did as instructed. Just as I prepared to go to the chair to sit, I was stopped in the middle of the room by an abrupt hand wave.

  Scarlett turned to face me. My eyes drifted upon those perfect dark red lips, expressionless. I made brief eye contact with her before she looked me over again. Her heels clicked on the hard flooring as she trailed around me in a circle. I watched her until she disappeared behind me and then shivered in anticipation as I waited for her to appear on my other side. She took her time. The way she moved made it seem as if I was on some sort of display.

  “What is this you’re wearing?” Scarlett asked curiously when she’d made it back around to the front of me. Her body leaned against her desk again, palms wrapped around the edges of the top. We met eyes for a moment before I couldn’t hold my gaze any longer. I stared behind her, out the large glass window looking out into the city skyline.

  “Pardon?” I asked, my voice somewhat shaky.

  “I want you to tell me what you’re wearing, Ms. Ross.”

  The demand sounded strange. My mind raced, taking her words the wrong way at first. Then I realized what she wanted. Of course that’s what she wanted. “C-Calvin Klein,” I replied, as calmly as I could. “I’m wearing Calvin Klein.”

  Scarlett didn’t answer, just looked me over. When she pulled herself from her desk to stand in front of me again, I observed as her fingers came out to touch the collar of my shirt. She adjusted it for a moment, and I found myself unable to breathe. Scarlett’s long delicate fingers grazed the skin of my neck. It was all I could do not to lean into it.

  “I doubt you have any idea why this is dissatisfying to me,” Scarlett said, looking at my colla
r. Her eyes seemed to linger for an awfully long time in places that were causing me to blush. When I pulled my attention back, we met glances.

  “You don’t like Calvin Klein?” I guessed, straightening myself. Scarlett still stood in front of me, somewhat closer than I was comfortable with, but I didn’t dare budge.

  Scarlett let out a huffy laugh. “Quite the contrary. In fact, we do a fall lineup of their latest pieces every year. I own a whole wardrobe. No, Ms. Ross. That is not the reason.” When she moved away and towards the door, a long breath escaped me. My heart settled in my chest. I listened as she called out into the office. Patricia. One of the photographers. It took mere moments before she was walking into the room.

  “I need you to explain to our new employee what is wrong with her attire today,” Scarlett instructed her from behind me. A moment later, I watched Patricia walk into my view. We met eyes briefly before she looked me over.

  “The undershirt, you can see the wrinkles.” Patricia’s hand went to my stomach, and I noticed the roll of wrinkles underneath. I felt mortified. Her hand brushed my neckline. “This blouse should be worn with a necklace. Pendants. With volume.” She studied me for a moment longer. “And her shirt. It should tuck into the slacks.”

  “Thank you, Patricia. That’s all.” Scarlett moved into my peripheral just as the photographer scattered from the room. We met eyes again, just as she leaned back into her desk, resuming her former position. “If you’re going to paint a picture, Ms. Ross, it’s important to complete it.”

  “Complete the picture,” I managed to echo her. When I spoke, I could swear there was a small smirk to her lips, but it was so brief that it was hardly noticeable.

  “That’s all,” Scarlett said, turning away from me to walk behind her desk. As she sat in her seat, I watched her reposition a stack of papers off to one side. Papers I had made sure were in perfect order just a small while before. While I wanted to speak again, I decided against it, turning to head out the door. As I moved, I could feel her eyes inspecting my every step, till I disappeared outside.