Mitigation Read Online Free PDF Page B

anger out on me when it’s
not deserved.”
    Matt stands up,
placing his palms opposite mine, and leans in as well. His voice is
controlled, but laced with menace. “I’m not taking my
anger out on you. I’m telling you that your work product is
poor. Learn the difference.”
    My control sort of
snaps at this point, and I shove the bloodied document under his
nose. My voice raises an octave. “This is not poor work
product. This is you desperately trying to find some fault with my
work so you can punish me.”
    “Punish you?”
he sneers as he grabs the document out of my hand. “Why would I
possibly do that?”
    “Because I cut
you off, and you can’t handle the rejection,” I snarl.
    Matt laughs at me…
a full-blown, mocking laugh. His eyes glint with danger. “Get
over yourself, Mac. You were replaced and forgotten just like that.”
He snaps his fingers to punctuate the point.
    Pain lances at my
heart and fury courses through me such as I have never felt before. I
have to dig my nails into the palms of my hands to stop from smacking
his face.
    My voice is
venomous, and I’m just one decibel short of an all-out yell. “I
can’t take this shit anymore. I did nothing to deserve this.”
    I grab the document
out of his hand, hoping I leave him with a paper cut or two, push off
from his desk, and spin toward the door, intent on leaving. But Matt
is quick. I have no clue if he vaulted his desk or ran around it, but
within a nanosecond, he has my elbow clutched and he spins me around.
    If I thought Matt
was angry before, I didn’t know what true anger was. His face
is practically contorted in rage when he roars, “You did
nothing to deserve this? You fucking denied me.”
    You would think that
this would be a somewhat selfish and bratty statement on his part.
But the anguish with which he says those words cuts me deep. He’s
hurt. Truly, deeply hurt, and a pang of sympathy goes through me.
    However, I hold my
ground but soften my voice. “I denied you nothing, Matt. I
simply asked for more.”
    Matt’s face
undergoes an amazing transformation. The terrible lines of rage
disappear. The darkness of his eyes lightens to amber, and his hand
falls from my elbow. In an instant, he’s no longer furious but
appears stricken by my words.
    His eyes lower from
my face, and he reaches up to brush his fingers through his hair in
bewilderment, turning slightly away from me. Shoulders sagging, he
walks back around his desk and sits heavily in the chair. He stares
at his computer, but I can tell he sees nothing. He’s only
staring at it to avoid looking at me.
    “Get out,”
he says quietly. “I want another draft of those Answers by the
end of the day.”
    It’s eerie…
the level of uncertainty in his voice right now. Gone is the furious
animosity, and all that’s left behind is confusion.
    And pain.
    My heart tumbles
over itself in empathy, and I have a brief moment of hope that maybe…
just maybe, that Matt will be receptive to discussing our
relationship. I take a step toward his desk. His gaze rises up, and
he stares at me blankly.
    “Matt…
I’m sorry you’re hurting. I am, too. Maybe if we talked
this out, we could figure—”
    He cuts me off, his
face starting to harden again. “There’s nothing to talk
about. Now leave.”
    I’m losing
him, and it makes me desperate. “Please… I want to make
this better—”
    I’m cut off
again by Matt’s mocking laughter. His eyes are once again dark,
and my stomach flips over in wariness. “You want to make this
better?” he sneers as he stands up from his desk, his hands
going to his belt buckle. “The only way you can make this
better, Miss Dawson, is if you get over here on your knees.”
    Agony courses
through my bones over the hurtfulness of those words. This is not the
Matt Connover who held me while my mom died. I have no clue where he
is, but he’s gone, and I can’t stop the tears that well
up in my eyes.
    We stare at each
other for a moment. His