Page 69 of Big & Bossy

Jackson Pig: Can I come to you?

Jackson Pig: We should probably talk about what happened tonight but I don’t want to do it over the phone.

I waited until the messages stopped coming through, waited until he gave up and the little indication of him typing had gone away. I didn’t want him here. Didn’t want him anywhere near me.

But there was the networking event tomorrow. The one I needed to go to, the one he held my ticket for, the one he had managed to get me into. I was caught between two options: run from him and let it end like that, or tough it out until we got through the opening of his new building.

I couldn’t fucking decide.

Me: I don’t want you to come over.

Me: I need space.

Jackson Pig: I know I messed up. But please.

Me: Stop. Just stop. I’m going to bed.

Chapter 33

Jackson

The only sound in my office was that of my incessantly tapping foot as I stared at the three screens in front of me, filled corner to corner with coding software and programs. Through the glass wall on the opposite side of the room, the snow fell silently, a gentle blanket on top of the massive piles outside. The floodlight bore down on the driveway, and the two armed security officers by the gate. It was enough for now.

I’d barely had a moment to actually focus on work for the last few weeks. Every ounce of energy had gone into the threat against Mandy, and every leftover drop had trickled into making sure the campus was ready for rollout in three weeks. And because of that, I’d fallen seriously behind, my work for Infinius building up to an overwhelming amount.

It felt good to shut off from the world overnight after everything that happened. I’d needed it, craved it, and although a part of me still screamed from the back of my head and longed for Mandy, it was comforting to focus on the one thing I knew I was good at. The thing I knew I could do, could fix. It was like a breath of fresh air after being on a plane for too long. Not exactly a saving grace, but enough to keep me going.

The growl from my stomach pulled me out of my thoughts.

I stood from the desk, stretching my arms over my head. I’d been sitting here for hours at this point, long enough for the sun to go down and rear its angry head again in the early hours. I wasn’t sure exactly what time it was, but somewhere had to be serving breakfast by now.

I grabbed my phone from where it rested face-down on my desk. I must have been insane to think that maybe, just maybe, my screen would be littered with texts from her, but it hurt regardless to see nothing but a handful of notifications from my emails and a reminder of the imminence of our grand opening.

My fingers ached as I gripped my phone, almost willing Mandy to text me, call me, scream at me if she wanted. The blisters on my knuckles had stopped burning hours ago, and maybe it was the adrenaline still pumping through my system or the countless cups of coffee I’d drank overnight, but the pain was rearing its angry head again.

Part of me wanted to set it down, go back to work, and try to drown it out. Overriding government systems was insanely difficult but not impossible. I could crack it eventually if I had enough willpower, enough steam, but my stomach was growling and my chest ached from finally allowing myself to think about her for more than two seconds.

There was only so much grace she’d give me. I knew that too well, knew it deep in my bones, knew it in that stupid ache in my chest and the knot in my throat.

Fuck it. I knew she was avoiding me. It was evident from her lack of responses last night. But that didn’t mean that I couldn’t try.

I pressed the little picture of her on my screen and tapped call for what felt like the millionth time since I drove off last night.

Ring.

Ring.

Ring.

Ring.

The person you are trying to reach is not avail?—

Gritting my teeth, I ended the call and flipped across to our texts instead. The ones I’d sent last night still sat there, a horrible, gut-punching reminder that I was barely able to contain my feelings for her even when they put her in danger. I didn’t want to have to keep looking at them, didn’t want to see how desperate my I’m sorry’s read.

I lifted the phone closer to my mouth and hit the little microphone.

“Princess. Please.”

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