Page 26 of The Assistant
Dawson’s breathing is shallow as he looks at the vase. I see his eyes narrow as he picks it up and holds it in his hands. It’sa beautiful bouquet, aside from the fact that it’s from Malik, I might be interested in keeping it.
I don’t even have a chance to consider what to do before he throws it against the wall and shatters the vase all over my office.
I jump back from the sudden start of it all and hold my hand over my mouth. I knew he didn’t like Malik, but I never expected him to make such a public display of his rage. People outside of the office hear what’s going on, and they all stop what they’re doing to pay attention, careful not to be too nosy because of Dawson’s temper.
Why the hell does Dawson care so much about this? Is this about the stuff that he said last night?
Dawson thinks he has some sort of possession over me, and I don’t understand it. I’ve barely known him a week. Despite what he likes to think, he doesn’t actually own me. If someone wants to send me flowers, they’re well within their right to do so.
This is my problem. He told me to stay away from Malik, and I didn’t have a chance to because of his father’s interference. Dawson didn’t actually have a say in any of that conversation, which was frustrating enough to him.
But despite my problems with Dawson, I can see how distressed he is now, and I want to take it away. This reaction, my relationship with Malik, these could have repercussions on his business, and if I’m going to be working here for a year, I need to make sure everything is okay. This is, after all, my entire job.
“What should I do?” I ask, drawing his attention away from the shattered vase and flowers on the floor. “You told me to stay away from him, and I didn’t. This is my fault, and I don’t want this to jeopardize the business relationship you guys have.”
Dawson looks at me, running his fingers through his previously pristine hair, and barks out a laugh. His entire face contorts, and I see a mixture of emotions written in his eyes. He doesn’t actually find any of this amusing. He looks like he’s going to have a nervous breakdown.
Me? I’m more confused than ever.
My phone rings in my pocket, and I pull it out to see it’s Henry calling. I show the phone to Dawson, knowing that this probably has something to do with the flowers. Dawson just shakes his head and shoves his hands in his pockets while gesturing for me to answer the call.
“Henry, hi,” I say, putting the phone on speaker so Dawson can hear.
“Harper, I’m just calling because you should have gotten a gift from our friend,” Henry says with an excited lilt to his voice. Dawson shakes his head and forces himself to bite his tongue, so he doesn’t say anything to his father.
“Malik? I just got to the office and saw them,” I say, shrugging at Dawson.
“I wanted to call to tell you how you can get in touch with him to thank him for his kind gesture,” Henry continues. He rattles off a phone number, and I scramble to write it down before he finishes. Dawson watches me with annoyance in his eyes the entire time.
“Can I ask how you knew he sent flowers? I wasn’t even expecting them. Our conversation was so brief,” I say, picking up a delicate lily from my desk and rubbing the petal between my fingers.
“Harper, you made such an incredible impression on him last night. Your mother and I are extremely proud of you,” Henry says with a genuine enough tone that my confusion somehow grows even more. Something I would have thought impossible five minutes ago. “He called me last night to ask permission to send you some flowers. He even asked Diana which ones were your favorite so he could really impress you.”
I look down at the scattered flowers on the ground and immediately recognize that none of them are my favorite. There are roses, lilies, carnations, and some green filler plants. My favorite flower is a zinnia, of which there are none in the bouquet. I can’t say I’m surprised my mom didn’t know that. She hasn’t asked me anything about myself since I was eight years old.
“We’re both really so proud of you,” Henry continues in his unabashed attempt to flatter me. “You really have grown into such a lovely young woman. With everything you’re doing for work right now, you’re really learning how to carry yourself with so much dignity. It’s all Malik could talk about last night after you left. Your mother practically couldn’t shut up about it.”
I don’t know what he’s getting at. If there’s one thing I know about my mother, it’s that she would never say she’s proud of me. She could be on her deathbed, and if the one cure to keep her alive would be to say something positive about me, she would die.
Henry doesn’t even know me. And all the time I’ve been living at his house with my mom, he and I must have had ten conversations, all of which were surface level and about the weather. The only thing he does know about me is that I want to go to art school, and that’s entirely because my mom was shaming me for it.
There’s something weird going on, and once again, I’m in the dark.
“Thanks a lot for the call, Henry. I’ll make sure to reach out to Malik and thank him for the flowers,” I say moments before hanging up the phone. I can’t handle anymore of this incessant flattery that means absolutely nothing coming from them.
I’m about to turn to Dawson to ask him what I should do, but before I can even open my mouth, he’s marching out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him. He’s angry with me about something I had absolutely no control over.
I just can’t win.
Chapter 13
Dawson
I wakeup in my own room on Saturday morning, thankful not to have to see Harper right now. It’s a delicate line I’m walking. I want to be around her constantly, to feel her warmth around me and completely envelop every one of my senses with her.
But the more I’m around her, the angrier I am. Fucking Malik. Sending her flowers? Trying to buy a bride off of my father? Everything about him is appalling, and I have to think of some way out of the situation.
After I shower and change into some athletic shorts and a T-shirt, I walk into the kitchen to find Harper sitting in loungewear, doodling in her sketch pad while eating cereal. She looks over at me and doesn’t say anything. She and I have barely said two words to each other since I destroyed the bouquet in her office.
