Page 35 of Open for Negotiation

I look to my left to see Garrett with wide eyes a few cubes down, then to my right to see Cassidy looking just as shocked as everyone else, mouthing, “What the fuck?”

“I don’t know,” I mouth back just about the time the raging bitch herself stalks down our row of cubes.

“Maxwell fucking Duke!” she screams again. “You think you can just ignore me and I’ll go away?”

Oh my God. What in the hell is going on?

I scramble to my feet and step out into the main hallway to watch what she does, along with everyone else, but she turns the corner, out of our line of sight.

It doesn’t take long until I can hear Max’s voice filling the room. “Call security,” he snaps at someone. “What the hell are you doing, Miranda?” He’s trying to keep his voice down as to not add to the scene, I’m assuming. Not that it matters anyway. She’s screeching and shouting enough for the both of them.

I can’t see him. He must be around the corner where she disappeared, so I’m straining to listen, even though I shouldn’t. None of us should, but this is just too damn wild to ignore.

“You think you can just cut me off from you? Disconnect my phone, change your phone number, and only allow contact through our lawyers? Oh, you have no idea who you’re dealing with. No idea at all.”

She’s slurring her words horribly, everything out of her mouth turning into one, long, run-on sentence.

“You’re drunk,” we can hear him say in a hushed whisper. “You need to go home, Miranda. Stop making a fool of yourself.”

I step out of my cube and a few paces closer to their voices. The protective side of me wanting to be as close as I can be to Max. It irks a part of me, deep down, that I can’t step up and defend him, because that’s all I want to do. As someone who is growing to care about him more than I ever intended, I want to protect him.

“Oh, fuck you. I’m not drunk. I’m pissed off.”

“I can smell the liquor on your breath, Miranda. Let me get you a ride home. You need to go sleep this off, then you can march your ass back here tomorrow and apologize to my entire staff for interrupting their day with this nonsense.”

“My nonsense? Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize being upset about your husband trying to ruin your life was nonsense. Forgive me.” I can hear her either stumbling into a filing cabinet or knocking things over, I can’t tell which.

I can hear in his tone, when I step closer to the corner, that he is trying his best to keep the situation from escalating. Where the hell is security?

“I’m not trying to ruin your life and this isn’t a conversation that needs to happen here.”

To that, she just laughs. “I hate you. I hate this place.” She comes barreling around the corner after that, literally running into me, sending me stumbling back into the copier I was next to. The hard plastic digs painfully into the center of my back.

“Jesus, fuck,” I say under my breath. “Excuse you, too.”

She whips around to face me so quickly; I barely have time to register what happened and she marches straight toward me.

“You have no idea who you’re speaking to, you little bitch. You have done nothing but flaunt your shit in front of my husband since the day you got hired here.” She waves her red manicured finger in my face, and the scent of liquor wafts into my nose.

“What are you talking about, Miranda?”

“Mrs.… Duke… to you,” she seethes, teeth clenched together with tears filling her eyes.

“Look, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Get out of my face and leave.”

“Miranda!” Max shouts and we both turn back to see him standing tall, shoulders square, with rage on his face. “Scarlett has absolutely nothing to do with any of this. Back off.”

His eyes flicker over to me, for just a moment, and they’re full of apology, full of sadness, full of anger.

But when my eyes meet the bright blue ones in front of me, full of tears and hysteria, I don’t feel threatened by her. I feel sad for her.

“Miranda, just go,” I tell her. “Don’t let security drag you out of here. I know you don’t want that.”

She regards me closely for a moment before blinking rapidly and taking in the scene around her. Everyone is staring, everyone is silent, everyone is judging her. She runs her hands over her face and takes a few steps away from me.

Max steps forward, stopping when we are side by side, angling his body ever so slightly in front of me, shielding me from her. That’s when I feel his fingertip gently caress my stomach. It’s not blatant enough that anyone around us can see it, or even notice that it happens, but it’s enough for me to feel it. To feel his heat. To know that he’s there and he isn’t going to let anything happen.

But the look on Miranda’s face, the sadness, something there tells me that maybe, just maybe, she noticed.

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