Page 10 of For Wrath and Redemption
Turning to my left, I scan the memorials on the wall. Against my better judgment, I let myself focus on one. I know the dates by heart. The epitaph. I see it in my nightmares. My teeth grind, my jaw aching with the pressure as I fight back the sting of more tears.
“I won’t share space with the dead,” I whisper into the silence.
My gaze flits to another memorial. This one is new, and there is no sting of tears as I read the epitaph. My lips pull into a sneer. I almost want to laugh, but nothing about this is funny.
“NYPD. Come out with your hands up, or we’re coming in.”
The booming voice sounds through the mausoleum, making me jump, and a chuckle does break free. Just one.
Well. This is a little funny.
“I’m unarmed,” I shout without looking away from the memorial plaque. “I’m coming out.”
I take five more deep breaths, and before I surrender myself to the cops outside, I lower my voice and whisper into the room. To the crypts. To the bodies entombed inside. My voice is stronger than it was minutes before. There’s no shaking. No weakness. Just pure, unadulterated hatred.
“I’m fucking glad you’re dead.”
4
CLAIRE
“You’re late.”
I glance toward the voice and smile. “I’m right on time.”
“Exactly.” Sasha makes a show of checking her watch. “On time is late for you.”
“I got a later start than usual.”
I give Sasha a shrug and drop my bag on the floor beside my desk. Days like this, I can’t help but think of how much easier it would be if I could just leave for the office from Conrad’s Upper West Side penthouse. Instead, my commute time is tripled because I have to go uptown to my apartment before I can take the train back down to Midtown.
I frown down at my computer keyboard as I kick off my tennis shoes and step into my pumps. The inconvenience makes me angry. Conrad tells me it’ssafer this way. He says it’s toprotect me, but on days like this...Well, it feels like disrespect. It feels like he doesn’t value my time, and once again, I feel used. Dirty. And that brings me back to the thought that’s been circling quietly in my head for weeks now.
Should I end it? But if I do, would my job be affected? Would he fire me?
The thoughts immediately fill me with guilt, and I give my head a little shake. I’m so fucking lucky that a man like Conrad—intelligent, kind, successful—would even look twice at me, let alonewantme. He’s good to me. I need to suck it up and stop being so whiny.
Patience. I know I need to have patience, but I’ve never been very good at that.
I drop my shoes into the bottom drawer of my desk and shut it more forcefully than I intended. The loud bang sounds through the office and makes me flinch.
“Damn. That bad?”
I flick my attention back to Sasha and force a smile. “It’s fine.”
She purses her lips, running her eyes over my face before leaning her hip on my desk and lowering her voice. “It’s bullshit that Macy got the MixMosaic lead. We all think it.”
“Apparently, seniority matters, and I’ve only been here a year.”
“Claire, I got my first lead at six months.”
I arch an eyebrow. “For a client like MixMosaic?”
“No. It was a much smaller client, but still. You did the work. It should have been yours.”
I give her another smile, and this time, I try to make it believable. “It’s fine, Sasha. Thank you for the support, but I’m fine. I’m just glad my presentation won them over. The MixMosaic account is good for the company. I’m going to go grab a coffee.”
Without another word, I cross the floor of the office to the coffee station. After the third sympathetic expression from my colleagues, I keep my gaze fixed straight ahead and avoid eye contact. I guess Sasha wasn’t kidding when she saidwe all think it. I suppose I should feel validated that everyone in my department believes I was fucking robbed, but I don’t like the pity. I don’t need everyone feeling sorry for me. Especially when I know that I’m the only one to blame.
