Page 5 of Enticed

I reach up to my ears, removing the buds as I hear another crash and then a metal door slam against the wall. The hairs on my neck stand up as I retreat down the hall to my office, scurrying along far less confident than I was dancing like a few moments ago.

“This fucking place,” a deep voice rumbles back in the lobby of the office and then the crash of items careening off of the front desk and onto the floor echoes down the hall.

“Oh my God,” I whisper, reaching for my door and turning around, quietly trying to close it to not draw the intruder’s attention to me. “Shit, shit, shit!” I throw the copies on my desk and frantically search for my phone as more noise escalates outside of my office.

“It’s okay, Clara. It’s going to be okay,” I speak quietly to myself, feeling my usual confidence subside drastically with the predicament I find myself in.

“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?” The dispatcher’s voice comes through the line two rings after I hit the numbers.

“Hi, yes, hello. There’s someone who just broke into the building I’m in,” I whisper as I hear footsteps approach me and pounding on doors adjacent to mine.

“What’s the address?”

“1600 Lake Drive.”

“I have officers en route. Please stay on the line with me until they get there. What’s your name?” The woman calmly addresses me just as the force of my door busting open breaks my focus from the call, alarming my mind and causing me to drop my phone.

“Ahhhh!” I scream as a man walks through the doorway, seething with anger and red eyes. The smell of alcohol infiltrates my nostrils as soon as he steps inside. He’s dirty and clearly drunk, his clothes in disarray and his dark hair sticking up all around his head.

“Clara Anderson,” he grits out when he focuses on me, and then I realize I know this man.

“Anthony?” I ask nervously, my entire body alive with fright. “What are you doing here?”

He chuckles and then reaches for his pocket, retrieving a flask. He unscrews the top and then takes a long swig, wiping his mouth once he’s finished. He drags his free hand through his messy, black hair and narrows his eyes back on me, staying silent as I anticipate what happens next.

“I should be asking you the same thing, sweetheart. But then again, you always did like to burn the midnight oil. Always working hard for this godforsaken company, giving more of yourself than they ever returned…” He’s slurring his words and swaying in his stance, which leads me to believe he’swaypast three sheets to the wind.

“Why are you here, Anthony?” I ask calmly, never removing my eyes from him even though I’m desperate to find my phone, praying the call is still live so the dispatcher can hear everything.

“Oh, I’m just here to collect what’s owed to me,” he says as a slick smile graces his lips. “And now that I know you’re here, it will make it that much easier.”

“I don’t know what you want, but I was just about to leave anyway,” I fake nonchalance, reaching for my purse and breaking eye contact momentarily.

And that was my worst mistake.

For when my eyes flick back up, I see Anthony—former employee of Pearson Advertising who was fired for non-consensual sexual acts with a subordinate—pointing a gun at my face, clicking back the safety, and aiming straight between my eyes.

My pulse fires at rapid speed, my entire body breaks out in sweat, and I feel my head go fuzzy when I realize I’m in a situation I may not get out of alive.

I’m smarter than this. I always wonder how women end up in situations where their lives are in danger. And then I realize, right here, right now—you can do everything right, lock your doors, be aware of your surroundings, take self-defense classes, and carry pepper spray around in your purse—but sometimes, you just end up in the wrong place at the wrong time.

“Anthony, you don’t have to do this. Please, take whatever you came for. But please, just let me go,” I’m begging, which is something I would never do in any other circumstance. But having a gun pointed at your brain makes you act in ways you never thought you would.

“Yes, I do, Clara. This company took everything from me—my job, my wife, my kids. And now I’m collecting my debt. With all the client information from Pearson Advertising, I could ruin them. I could start my own company and poach every last account from Pearson, hitting them where it hurts.”

There are so many elements to his plan that don’t even make sense, let alone, that would actually happen given the way Anthony conducted himself during business. But I wouldn’t dare state that right now.

“Well, if that’s what you want, I can’t stop you. Here,” I say, gesturing to my desk computer as I side-step around my desk. “Help yourself. Just please, let me go.”

He shakes his head, reaching for my arm and pulling me into his putrid smelling body before I can break away too far.

“You’re not going anywhere, you little slut. Why would I let you go, so you can go run to the cops?” He growls in my ear, his lips touching the shell, making me shiver with disgust.

“Mmmmm, seems you like the idea of me taking something else I want too then,” he says, mistaking my reaction for arousal, when in reality I’m fighting back the urge to vomit.

“Anthony, please…” I tremble through the emotion bubbling in my throat.

Oh my God, this has to be a nightmare. This can’t be happening.

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