Page 26 of Caleb
“Do you mind?” I ask before pulling the string on one of the side table lamps. She replies with a haphazard wave of her hand.
“Hello,garçon,” she says in her thick French accent, setting her wineglass on the dining table as soon as the faint warm light floods the space. I come closer to her. Surprisingly, her blonde locks aren’t made up in a bun or a braid but are flowing behind her back in soft waves. She’s still wearing her usual skirt suit, though. Her silky blouse is not neatly tucked inside her skirt, and she’s got some of the top buttons undone. Her eyes look noticeably glazed, irritated even.
Has she been crying?
I can’t make myself care. And I’ve already learned my lesson earlier about attempting to get closer to the people on Aaron’s banned list. Indeed, Annette is on said list. Aaron informed me from the first moment he saw me interacting with her. And he’s right. She’s one of Ambassador Murphy’s most trusted employees. So it’s best if any and all interactions with her are kept to a minimum and in a strictly professional fashion.
“Hey,” I reply in a dry tone, giving my back to her and checking the cabinets for snacks. My head is pleasantly buzzing from the alcohol, and I do feel a bit woozy, but I quickly spot a container with salted cashews. I open it and pour a handful into a bowl. I add another handful of dried cranberries and a couple of chocolate chip cookies. I pour myself a big glass of water, and I’m all set.
Determined to leave as quickly as possible, I lift my plate and glass and head toward the door. “Good night,” I say over my shoulder but stop before crossing the threshold. “Do you want me to get the light?”
“It’s fine,” she replies. “I don’t care.” Those last three words crack as they leave her lips, and now a choked sob drowns the stillness of the room.
Fuck me.
It’s not in my DNA to simply ignore a woman in this emotional state, especially not when she’s as attractive as Annette. She’s not your typical beauty, but something about her is strongly appealing. I can’t pinpoint what that is because I’ve been purposely trying to ignore the woman for the past few weeks.
“You okay?” I ask, turning around, annoyed at myself for doing so. She’s got her elbows propped on the table, and the palms of her hands are resting against her forehead. She’s gasping for air and looks emotionally wrecked, the image far from the confident, determined Annette I see walking around every day with high command of her job and this place.
“No,” she says simply. I respect that. As humans, we’re so used to saying we’re okay all the time, even when it’s clear that we aren’t.
I set my glass of water and snack bowl on the counter while trying to decide what’s the best move here. Should I leave? Should I stay? Does shewant meto stay? I don’t know what she needs, and it shouldn’t be my concern, but how can I just leave her like this?
“Do you want to talk about it?” I offer, stupidly. I’m certainly not in the best condition to sit down and have a meaningful conversation, at least not one that might be beneficial for her, considering the state I find myself in, both mentally and emotionally. I’m a wreck too. It’s just all numbed out with alcohol. And I’m sure that’s what she’s trying to do because she just drained the last third of her wineglass in a single gulp.
“There is not much to say.” She leaves her wineglass on the table and pats the corners of her lips with a napkin. I’m thankful that she doesn’t want to talk.
Annette finally lifts her gaze and takes a long look at my frame. Her eyes are red-rimmed, but there’s a fire burning behind them. I can tell she’s not only sad but angry too. She grabs the bottle of wine and pours an ounce at most before it starts trickling. “Merde.” She laughs a soft, ironic laugh. Like that’s the last thing she needed right now, for the wine to run out.
“I’ve got a new bottle of vodka upstairs,” I say. “I can get it for you. Bring it down here.” I’m sure this whole interaction of me offering vodka to Annette would be more than frowned upon if Aaron ever learned about it. But honestly, I’m just trying to help her the only way I can. We’re not friends, and Aaron’s made it clear that it’s best if I avoided her. So offering alcohol to help her deal with her shit on her own is just my way of showing my support without having to get involved in the drama.
“Mmm,” she hums, standing up. She grabs the wine bottle and tosses it in the trash bin. Then she grabs her glass, walks over to the small sink, and leaves it there. “Let’s go. I’ll go get it myself.” Annette stands in place for a quick second and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. She nips the corner of her lip and looks up into my eyes again. “Thank you.”
“Of course.” I grab my bowl and glass of water and head out of the lounge. She follows me in silence. It’s best to keep as quiet as possible when moving around the hallways. I’m sure she understands that too.
“Could you get the door, please?” I whisper. My hands are busy. “It’s unlocked.”
She opens the door for me and takes a couple of steps back. I walk in, settle my things on my nightstand, and grab the new bottle of vodka I’ve got stashed away in my dresser.
“Here you go,” I say, offering the bottle. She grabs it and takes a look at it.
“Are you sure you don’t mind?”
“I’ve—drank enough and got another one. So don’t worry.” I lean against the doorframe and cross my arms at my chest and an ankle over the other.
Annette takes another look at the bottle and says, “Merci,garçon.”
“De—rien?” I say with a laugh. My French sucks even at saying the simplest things.
Annette chuckles and closes the distance between us. She stands on tiptoe and kisses my cheek, but her lips linger on my skin and slowly graze their way toward the edge of my lips. Fuck. I’m fired up in a second, and all it takes is for me to turn my head slightly toward her, and our lips will meet.
I do that.
I capture her mouth and tilt her head back to deepen the kiss.
Before I know it, my hand is cupping the back of her neck, and I’m pulling her inside my bedroom, shutting the door behind her. I’ve got her pinned against the door, and we’re both immersed in a kissing frenzy.
Pulling my lips away from hers, I take the bottle of vodka out of her grasp and set it carefully on the floor.
