Page 21 of Don't Leave Me

“I’m going home to Boston,” he started to explain, but Michael suddenly walked in and set down his notebook in front of him before he sat, looking up at me and Evan very briefly before speaking.

“Good morning, everyone,” he said, sighing a little bit. “We have a short work week this week due to Thanksgiving, but I’m still expecting a full week’s work from everyone,” he looked around at all 10 or so of us.

He still had his all-business attitude and I was suddenly intimidated all over again.

“Evan,” Michael looked at him sitting beside me. “What are you working on this week?”

“Um, I’m working on a piece about the NYPD, about that cop that was killed in Brooklyn the other day,” he answered, looking down at his scribbled notes in front of him.

Michael nodded. “Good. Have it in by tomorrow.”

He went around to a few others and checked in before looking to me, raising his eyebrows.

“Hana,” he said, his eyes and tone somehow softer now that I caught his gaze.

I sat up straight. “I’m writing a piece on a memoir about a woman who overcame an eating disorder,” I said feebly, my heart racing as he stared at me with his index finger placed on his lip.

I was always nervous talking in front of my peers at the weekly meetings, but I was doubly nervous that morning because of the way Michael watched me; I felt like I needed to give him more.

“And this week’s must-read books, along with the year-end reviews you wanted me to work on,” I said, feeling my cheeks get a little warm.

The memory of me and Michael “working late” was rushing through my head. I bit my lip as I waited for him to speak – or really, to approve.

He gave me a faint smile. “Very good, Hana,” he responded smoothly.

I smiled and looked away, afraid that I would continue to blush if I stared at him any longer.

“Alright, I think that’ll conclude today’s meeting. Good work, everyone,” he said cheerfully as he stood up and cued everyone to leave.

I lagged for a moment, pretending to gather my notes, but when I realized that Michael had already left the room, I sighed and quickly started to walk back to my desk.

“Hana! These just came in for you,” the front-desk receptionist, a pretty Midwestern sweetheart named Maude, said to me with a bouquet of red roses in front of her.

My eyes widened as I smiled and took the bouquet from her.Who the hell sent me flowers? Michael wouldn’t do that – would he? Jack?

“Wow. Thank you,” I said to her and set them on my desk.

“Ooooh, those are pretty!” Cassie said excitedly, eyeing the roses.

“They are,” I responded, looking around to find a note or card.

There was a small card on the side that read ‘Hana Miller’ on the front. I quickly picked it up and opened it –they’re from Jack!I widened my eyes and read the note: “Hana, I hope these brighten your day – Jack.” I smiled to myself as I set down the card and continued to observe the roses fondly.

“Beautiful flowers, Hana,” Michael said from behind me, his tone disapproving, his stealth mode activated.

I looked back and he stood with his arms crossed, his eyebrows raised and I could tell he was angry.

“I agree,” I held my head up high, putting my hand on my hip.

“Who are they from?” he asked curiously, remaining calm in front of Cassie and everyone else in my cubicle area.

“A friend,” I answered vaguely, a small smile on my face. “Can I help you with something?” I raised an eyebrow.

He was jealous and I was taking advantage of it – it made me feel like he actually did care about me. And this was the only time I knew I could get away with any sass talk to him. Michael stared at me, amused as hell but trying to hide it. I could see Cassie staring at us with wide eyes.

“I’d like to talk to you a little more about the year-end reviews. Can I see you in my office?” His deep voice and Irish accent were already arousing me.

“Sure,Michael,” I responded, keeping my gaze on him although I was nervous as hell.

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