Because He Torments Me Read Online Free PDF Page B

motives were as confusing as his moves.
    “Adriana,” Nessa said.   “Yes.   You can.”   She might not have known the details,
but the look on her face said everything.   She wasn’t stupid.   She could
read between the lines.   She knew
I’d gone away with him for the weekend, and now suddenly he’d sent me a super
expensive gift.
    Whatever she thought – whether it was
that I was somehow being paid for sex, or whatever – she seemed to think
it was okay that I keep these clothes.
    “I don’t know,” I said slowly.
    “Adriana, he’s a billionaire,” she said.   “You do realize that him spending twenty
thousand dollars is like us buying a stick of gum, right?”
    “I don’t think that’s really how you’re
supposed to look at it.”
    She shrugged.   “I’d keep them.”   She slid her feet into a pair of high
heels and let out a tiny groan of pleasure.   “These shoes feel like butter.”
    I laughed as Nessa began trying on all the different
pairs of shoes, sounding like someone on the home shopping network as she
narrated.
    I ran my hand over the shimmery fabrics.
    I knew it would be wrong to keep the clothes.
    On the other hand, was it so wrong to feel like
maybe Callum did owe me something?  
    Shouldn’t I at least get something out of the
weekend besides memories and a bruised heart?
    Yes, I decided, I should.
    And if what he was offering was a whole new wardrobe, well, then, I would take it.

 
    ***

 
    The next morning, my commute was rainy and
drizzly, and everyone on the subway was cranky.   I felt like Anna Hathaway during the
beginning credits of The Devil Wears Prada, walking along with her onion bagel,
looking totally out of place.
    Only I didn’t have an onion bagel, I had a
coffee from Peet’s Coffee, and I was dressed in some of my new clothes –
a pair of tan trousers, a loose white blouse and a chocolate colored crocodile
belt.   On my feet were soft suede
booties, and around my neck was a chunky gold necklace.
    I’d scraped my hair back into a twist and kept
my make up to a smoky eye and a nude lip.
    I was excited and nervous, my stomach flipping
as I closed my umbrella and walked into Archway.
    When I got to the sixth floor, I was surprised
at how alive the office was already.    Phones rang, keystrokes tapped, papers ruffled, voices hummed.   It was going to be the soundtrack to the
rest of my life, and the thought filled me with excitement.
    I made my way back to Kiersten’s office.
    She was sitting at her desk, a long sheet of
paper before her, her nails sliding down a line of printed numbers.
    I knocked softly on her open door.
    “Come in,” she said absent-mindedly before
glancing up at me.   “Oh, good,” she
said.   “You’re here.”
    I might have just been being paranoid, but I
felt like she was insinuating I should have been there earlier.   I glanced at the clock hanging on the
wall over her desk.   It was
6:58.  
    “Yes.   You said seven, right?” I asked.
    “Yes,” she said.   “We have an important meeting this
morning with Aubrey Zane and her people, and it’s going to be a bloodbath.”
    Right.   Aubrey Zane, the pop star who had written a
book about her struggles with an eating disorder, the book that was supposed to relaunch her career.
    “Why will it be a bloodbath?” I asked.   I was hovering awkwardly by the door, so
I walked into the office and took a seat in front of Kiersten’s desk.
    “Her preliminary sales numbers aren’t good.”
    “How bad are they?”
    “Bad,” she said.   “Aubrey’s book was bought at
auction.   Archway gave her a huge
advance, and it should be performing better.   Part of the package we used to woo her
over here was the promise of a huge publicity push.   And now everything’s falling apart.   The sell-in wasn’t great, but we were
hoping the bookstores would reorder.   Her launch party is tonight, and we haven’t gotten RSVPs from half the
people we were hoping for.”