Carter
13.
For a moment, I just studied her. Every bone in my body was screaming for me to look away, but the way Hazel fidgeted nervously had me unable to take my eyes away. Whether it was because of me, or the phone call last night, I wasn't entirely sure.
It wasn't just Hazel's sleepy gaze, or the outfit she had on that was identical to yesterday's, that caught my attention, but her knees, which were bruised and scraped with dried blood. At the right angle, I noticed something glint in the light. Was that glass?
I replayed the exchange from last night, the gasp of surprise and fright at something Hazel must've seen, her hiss of pain and the sound of shattered glass. Someone had broken into her apartment.
Hazel's phone call was a welcoming distraction from the horror that had been dinner with my brother—who had been trying to call and text nonstop since the event took place. Now, it was the concern I couldn't shake away as I stared at Hazel across from me.
She tugged at her dress, trying to cover her knees, and when I glanced back toward her face, I could see the embarrassment written clear as day in her dark eyes.
I wanted to ask what happened, because I couldn't stop replaying her call, but I could only do what I knew best as an annoyed frown drew across my lips. Instead of asking if she was okay, I said,
"Don't you know how to change your clothes? I thought I asked you to look presentable?" Too easy.
My words couldn't have been furthest from the truth. Even though Hazel hadn't changed her outfit, she still looked good. Her long, wavy strands were swept neatly over her shoulder, her dress without a wrinkle in sight. Found my gaze lingering longer than it should have.
"They were—" Hazel began to say, but she stopped herself and shook her head. "Never mind. Can I—can I go back now?"
Clearly, I could see that something was bothering Hazel, and by her fidgety gaze, something stopped me from snapping.
Nodding my head silently, I watched Hazel slip back into her office.
Guilt filled my mind, and it only grew the longer I tried to ignore it. I didn't know why, but I couldn't bring myself to feel angry, like seeing Hazel the way she was, rubbed every nerve I felt, away.
My head spun, sure that I was just going crazy. I never felt anything for any of my assistants, my employees for that matter. I could blame the feeling on yet another sleepless night, the countless hours that I laid awake listening to my racing heart. I knew that I would always be able to count on that excuse.
Being tired wasn't an excuse with Hazel. There was something different about her that I just couldn't put a finger to, and made me feel things I had long since buried.
I stared at my computer screen, a frown tugging on my lips at the sight of the image before me. No matter how hard I tried, I would never get used to seeing my face on the internet. My angry, glaring face—the one the media always seemed to capture. If Hazel only knew. That article wasn't about her, but me—a recycled threat that did its purpose in steering people the opposite direction. If I could've taken down that article, there would be none at all.
Hazel Morgan, a former employee at 'The Daily Grind' Coffeehouse & Co. was caught in a whirlwind after spilling coffee all over the wretched Carter Wright—what a disaster! Catch a glimpse in the photo above: Morgan was delivering Wright's order, only to trip and spill the drink all over his suit. Everyone knows to steer clear of the infamous billionaire—did no one tell Morgan not to be so careless? It is no surprise now that she will now have to pay the consequences.
What's going to happen to Morgan now that she has fallen into his trap? Does she even know who she's dealing with? It is rumored that she has filled the role as Wright's assistant at 'Wright Manufacturing,' so it is only a matter of time before Morgan realizes the jeopardy she has put herself in. Read below to see what other people and former employees have to say:...
I could picture Hazel reading this as she took in all of the nasty words said about me, and there was no doubt in my mind that she would have soaked them all up—could only imagine what she was thinking now.
The familiar tug of anxiety formed a pit in my stomach. I knew I couldn't force Hazel to stay, not with all that she was bound to discover—she would only then come to me begging to leave. Frightened of all the things she thought I was. Like all the others. Sensitive and naive.
I shook my head and let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding. I didn't understand why I cared so much, as if Hazel was somehow different.
There was a part of me that wanted to believe that. From the first moment I saw her, there was something about her that drew me in, had me doubting the very core of who I was.
No. I wouldn't believe that.
A monster. A ruthless, heartless billionaire. That was all I was. When something goes wrong, I was headline news.
Shutting off the computer, I stood from my seat with a shaky breath, my head spinning. How would I make it through the rest of the day? How did I even manage the last year and a half?
The hallway was littered with voices—whispered voices that had me slowing my tracks to take in where they were coming from. They were familiar voices, but ones I couldn't put faces to.
"Did you see the new assistant yet?" The one asked. There was a hint of curiosity in her voice.
"Once—she passed by the copy room just earlier. Do you think she'll last?"
There was a pause, to which startled me into taking a step backward, but the voices continued.
"I doubt it—I mean, she is a young, good-looking, girl, but she doesn't seem like the type who would be able to take all of Mr. Wright's threats. I also doubt Wright will be able to keep his hands off of her. She'll go running in no time."
Another pause. I furrowed my brows slightly, the familiar pang of disappointment and hurt welling up inside my chest. Every single time someone spoke about me.
"That man is such a brute."
"I can't wait until something happens so that he will leave; it would do us all a favor...and that poor girl—I hope she can stay for once."
The sound of footsteps coming around the corner forced me to gather my composure as I went to walk past the two women. Glaring at their horror-stricken features as I slipped past.
My own cold one nearly crumbled, the reminder of Mary's words ringing in my ears.
It would do us all a favor.
Like hell it would.
There was no one else in the bathroom when I stepped inside, shutting and locking the door so that no one else could come in. It was selfish, but I wouldn't be able to bear the thought of someone noticing.
I stood at a sink, fingers brushing under ice cold water that made me shiver—the only feeling I had left. I couldn't breathe, couldn't think, not as the panic thudded in my chest.
My sunken reflection stared back at me. How did anyone not see? The unhappiness, the tiredness—all of it was written in the bags underneath my eyes, the permanent frown that I couldn't turn upward.
It wouldn't be long before people got what they wanted.
The sound of the bathroom door being rattled had my heart skipping a beat. Frightened, I glanced beside me to the door, praying that the sound would stop and whoever was on the other side would disappear.
When they didn't, even after a beat of silence, I took one last glance in the mirror and forced the uncaring, expressionless gaze back onto my face. No one would even think twice.
Hesitantly, I undid the lock and stepped back outside, doing my best to ignore the man staring at me with a wide-eyed, surprised gaze.
His voice stopped me.
"That's a public restroom, sir," Adam stated, voice lowering a notch as the obvious fear settled in. "You didn't need to lock the door."
Adam—one of the higher-ups on the sales representative floor and not much older than forty—he did not deserve to be snapped at.
None of them did.
"You think that matters to me?" I asked.
The surprise that Adam showed when I appeared from the restroom was the same when I hired him. No one ever expects to have such a young CEO for a boss. To them, I was inexperienced, dumb, and too naive for their own good. And they were right, because I didn't deserve to be here.
But I could also see the fear on their faces when they walked in, wondering if Carter Wright was in a decent enough mood not to chase them out of the job.
I paid a good salary for this automotive parts company because it was just that, a good job.
I may be brutal, but I knew what I was doing and people knew that.
Back in my office, I felt the flood of ease as I collapsed into my chair, but it was quickly suppressed when I glanced at the schedule on my computer screen.
I had a meeting in five minutes.