Sex And Writing|| 18+ [{Completed}]

11

"Yes ma'am-- I can do that," I said through a joyful smile. The world was my oyster and C.J. was the pearl I had worked hard for. This was my time. I was in it to win it!! 

"Then it's settled, Miss Meyers, continue what you're doing with him. I'll expect you in my office on Friday with those pages." Oh, I'll continue doing him alright. She waved a hand at me dismissively sending me on my way.

I reached the closed door, but a nagging feeling left my hand hovering above the doorknob. "Uh, Reese, can I ask you something?" I turned around to see her rubbing her temples again. The telltale sign she was done with me. 

"What?" she snapped, her eyes glaring ice into my soul. The very definition of an ice queen.

"Can you--- Can you tell me what happened to him? Why he is the way he is?" I swallowed hard, spitting the words out in a hurry before I chickened out and swallowed them. Her eyebrows raised into her hairline, wrinkling her perfect forehead at my unexpected question. She ran a hand down her dress, keeping her eyes cast down. 

"That's not my place to tell you, Mercy." She all but whispered, her voice falling into pieces. Meaning she knew what had happened to him years before. 

"I have a right to know," I demanded, taking a step forward, boldly going where no intern had gone before. Especially with hard-assed Reese. Straight in for the kill, head to head with the boss, and death was surely in my future. Maybe they'll bury me next to my father with a gravestone that says RIP: here lies a brave soul killed on the battlefield of Reese Collins, struck down by her bare hands. 

I felt guilty going behind his back. I felt like a snoopy journalist begging his boss for the dirty details of his life. But I had a right to know, right? The man practically lived with me. And my curiosity was killing me, apparently, I was a cat. 

"It's not my place. Ask him yourself." She said again looking down at the work on her desk, avoiding my eyes at all costs. 

I took a big breath, my heart fluttering with nerves. Or maybe that was a heart attack coming on. "But I do have a right to know and I need to know. He basically lives with me. I'm around him 24/7 and something is wrong with him. He barely speaks to me and any time he becomes emotional....he..." fucks me, is what I wanted to say, but I had to bite my tongue. 

No use in giving the lion the meat she needed to sack my ass to the curb. Plus--she had said before she didn't want to know what I did with him. Good excuse, right? Right! Because a sexual relationship with an author was highly frowned upon, ok, more than highly. Immensely frowned upon with grounds to fire. 

I was in front of her desk now. Eyes burning with an uncontrollable inferno staring into her cold, icy eyes. Trying to break her down to give me anything! And somehow, my finger was pointing angrily in her face. I must have lost my damn mind. 

She closed her eyes, taking in a breath. "If I tell you, you'll look at him differently. And that's not what he wants." Finally! I was getting somewhere. 

I shook my head. "No-- I won't." I wasn't confident with my answer, but whatever it was I needed to know. 

"A few years ago, C.J. had a problem." She started softly, more softly than I had ever heard her before. 

"A problem?" I asked, taking my seat again. 

"At the height of his success, C.J. found------- gambling." She took a deep breath again like it had been a long time since she had talked about it. Her eyes darted out the window, trying to compose the right words. 

"He got himself into a lot of debt, which made him write more. He took more advances. But he always managed to spend it all. And-- his debt wasn't paid...until two years ago." She folded her lips together, fingers strumming a few pages on her desk. 

"What do you mean? It wasn't paid, how did he---?" 

"He was in debt to some pretty shady characters and they took their revenge." I licked my lips. The scars on the back of his neck popped into my mind and the tattoos strategically placed to cover them. 

"I told you, you'd look at him differently." She said sternly. 

"What about his wife...his daughter?" Her eyes widened slightly at the mention of them. 

"He told you?" She gasped. 

"Just their existence, nothing more." 

She gave a small smile at the thought of them and bit into her bottom lip. But it faded as quickly as it came, bringing back the scowl ever-present on her lips.

"They beat him almost to death, Mercy. They--they robbed him, burned down his house, and...." She closed her eyes and shook her head. 

"No," I swallowed hard. I knew they were gone but like that? How could someone do that to another human being? How could someone so easily take another life over, what? Gambling? 

"He was hospitalized for a long time, multiple surgeries and he didn't know for almost a week about them...about his house..." A thousand needles attacked the lining of my throat desperately begging me to relieve the dryness. 

"C.J. lost a big piece of himself that night. I don't know a lot of the details, but I know it changed him. He's a completely different person now; he's damaged." I swallowed hard, trying to bring the moisture back to my throat.

Of course. Who wouldn't be damaged after that? After being beaten so severely it required surgery and his family? Oh God, his daughter, his wife, they were taken so quickly. 

"Thanks...for telling me." I stood up, dizzy in a haze. My mind swirling in several different directions about him and the despair he must have gone through. He probably blamed himself for the whole situation and there was nothing I could do to make him feel better. Or take that away. 

"Keep doing whatever you're doing, Mercy. This is the first time in 2 years I've seen a spark in his eyes. Whatever you did......keep it up." Her eyes pleaded with me like a puppy. 

I pursed my lips and nodded at her odd compliment. "Did they--- Did they ever catch the people who did it?" 

"They go on trial within the year. If he can get the book done before the trial, it would be for the best." I simply nodded my head and walked out of the office in a weird, indescribable headspace.

I didn't want to look at him differently when I saw him. But whatever had happened, it made him into the solemn man he was today. With the storms constantly brewing in his eyes, I could only imagine the pain inside his thoughts. He had to be churning with anger, hate, revenge, and all the other emotions that came with the situation. 

My next problem was: how was I going to face him? I knew everything now and it hadn't come from him. I felt like I had betrayed his trust by going behind his back. And I knew the moment I let him know I knew, he'd hate me forever. So I guess the saying stands true for me: curiosity killed the cat and this cat probably wouldn't get the cream later. 

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Kinda heavy----my bad. 💕