Silent Screams (Hollow #1)

CHAPTER 5

Katherine lets me work on a report on my own. Day two, and I already feel more at ease. Marie and Emon each came to see me at my desk this morning for a quick chat.

After lunch, I make myself a cup of green tea in the kitchen. I smell a warm, spicy vanilla aroma before I even see him, while I wait against the counter for the water to boil.

Damon Dreygon walks across the kitchen and gives me a curt nod as he fixes himself coffee. That’s when I wonder if I’m the one who’s supposed to bring it to him.

“Does Katherine usually bring you coffee?” I ask him, folding my arms, a vulnerability buzzing through me where he’s concerned.

“No. I’m not lazy.”

That’s not how I meant it. ..

I say nothing, unsure if he’s always brooding, based on my colleagues’ comments. He makes his cup quickly, and I notice he drinks it with a dash of almond milk.

He turns to walk out before stopping and facing me .

“How are things going so far?” He’s staring deeply into my eyes.

I clear my throat before I tell him that I’m getting the hang of it and that having Katherine around is helpful. He never breaks eye contact once, like he refuses to stare elsewhere, and the gesture is enough to make me blush.

“Good.” Dark eyes narrow, and with that, he walks away. No smile, no compliment, no offer that his door is open should I need anything.

I take a deep breath and let it out, something I seem to be doing a lot around him. It’s normal though; bosses have a way of intimidating their peers.

I text Harvey today rather than call him since he’s never really been a phone person. I ask him how his day is going, and I also text Claire, knowing she’ll provide more details. Then, I fully immerse myself in my work until Katherine does more training with me.

Being busy keeps me from worrying about him. The day simply flies by, locking up my qualms with a golden key.

“You now have access to his calendar—click here.” Katherine points at my computer screen. No wonder he barely leaves his office; his days are fully booked. “You’ll have to RSVP to events for him; he doesn’t go to all of them, but he tries. Check his calendar before to see if it’s blocked off in case he has something personal to attend that evening.”

I leave later tonight to finish a report so that Katherine can review it first thing in the morning. Once in the elevator, a man’s hand stops the door from closing, and my heart skips a few beats as I stare at my boss.

His eyes squint for a second before he releases them.

Did I leave too early for his taste? Is that why he’s here?

He makes his way across from me, one hand in his pocket as he presses the button to shut the elevator door with his other hand .

I can see him stare at me from the corner of my eyes. I gulp and focus my stare ahead.

“Plans tonight?” he asks and I watch him unbutton his blazer.

My head shakes. “I mean, with my book, yeah.”

I think his lips twitch but I can’t be sure. My eyes could be playing tricks after staring at a computer all day.

“What about you?”

“Rock climbing with friends.”

His answer tempts me to evaluate the shape of his body. It takes good strength to rock climb. I know because I rock climbed with my dad growing up. Anything with height, thrill, and risk—I’m in.

“I used to also.” I bring myself back to those memories, all the laughter with my dad while Gia waited on the side bench with a schoolbook in hand. I scatter my thoughts away and shrug. “It’s been a while.”

He nods, like he understands, then fingers his scruffy jaw as the elevator doors open on the parking level. He extends his hand to let me leave the car first.

We walk in the lot, the muggy air hitting my lungs like a cloud of ghosts. When I face him again, he’s wearing a stern look.

“Goodnight, Ms. Ackerman .”

I stare at him as he gets in his Tesla; I don’t know what model it is other than it looks expensive. He drives out of the parking lot, my mind reeling from our brief encounter.

That night I call Claire.

“We spent a good hour outside.”

“That’s good,” I say to her. It sounds like she’s been able to convince Harv to do something I can never get him to do: go outside. A part of me wants to hate her for it while the other part of me wishes to thank her for it.

“Yes, it is! The training is going well. He walked a few feet several times today. I can already see that he’s getting stronger since I started.”

Her comment toys with my heart. It both breaks it and heals it all at once. It blooms it with pride yet also guilt. Because he needs someone, like Stefan, like Claire, pushing him to move daily.

It has nothing to do with him walking and everything to do with avoiding nerve pain and blood clots, and building muscle mass.

“Claire . . . thank you.”

“I’m . . . well, you’re welcome . . . but I’m only doing my job.”

It pains me to think he might never let me see his walking progress since he views it as a failure.

He’s got it all wrong.

Even if he never walked again, his happiness and our future together are all I care about.

She also tells me that they played cards. My frown doesn’t dissipate, even long after our call. She can do her job as long as she doesn’t overstep.

He never plays cards with me.

Though at some point I should come to terms with the fact that it’s my own paranoia that’s keeping her with him full-time despite his type of disability. His parents agreed, too, that more daily training and activities, whether mental or physical, might be in his best interest.

I spend the whole night wondering if he hates me. If he’ll ever tell me about his walking sessions. If he’ll ever show me.

But I know the answer.

And by God, does it hurt.

Realization that Fridays are no fun here quickly hits me at work. It’s busier than all other days, and after Katherine approved my report, she let me do my own thing since Monday is her last day.

I answer call after call, transferring them to Damon, and sometimes his voice comes through the phone, spiking the little hairs on my body, the sound enticing other body parts.

I also check his inbox to respond to some emails and flag others that require his attention. I’m booking a boardroom for an upcoming meeting when Katherine comes to my desk.

“Dear, did you have lunch?”

I shake my head. “Too busy.” I didn’t even get the chance to text Harv today.

“Go. We’ll finish training this afternoon.”

I eat and head back early, knowing a few more tasks await me before the end of the day. At my desk, Katherine shows me a few things that I need to take care of for Damon’s conference, and I take note of it all.

“Ackerman . . .”

Both Katherine and I jump slightly at the voice coming from his office. I turn and see Damon staring at me with hooded eyes like I’m responsible for all that is evil in the world.

“Go... ” Katherine ushers me to the devil. I might like thrills but not this kind. Not the kind of being treated as if I’m dirt.

I step inside his office. “Yes, Mr. Dreygon?” I ask politely, my eyes scanning around his office.

It’s neat, sleek and modern.

It has an environmental feel to it, glossy white everywhere mixed with a caramelized brown desk. Like the entrance of this floor, a green plant wall hangs over one of his office walls.

“I sent you an email to draft a letter ASAP. I take it you know the alphabet—you know how to spell?”

Is he serious?

I frown. “Sure, sure.” I mean it more like a question.

“Good, then don’t make mistakes.” A dismissive look is given my way, and I narrow my eyes at him when he returns to his desk to continue typing on his laptop.

I guess he’s giving me a taste of what’s to come. He’s the type of boss to warn me of mistakes before they even happen. And I don’t like it. Rather, a finger of worry begins to snake through my mind at how the future might look like working for him.

Besides, who acts like this a few hours before the weekend starts? I’m not a heavy drinker, but now I need a beer.

Katherine looks at me with sympathy in her glasses-covered eyes and tells me she’ll see me on Monday. It’s already past five by the time I’m done drafting his letter. I go over it with a fine-tooth comb, making sure it’s free of grammatical mistakes. Then I send off the email and check the time on my computer.

It's almost five-thirty.

I want to go home and change into a T-shirt. I turn off my computer and knock on Damon’s door.

“I’m heading off for the day. Was there anything else you needed?”

“No, that’s all.”

“Okay . . . well, have a nice weekend.”

“You as well, Ms. Ackerman.”

“It’s Gemma,” I test the waters.

“No, it’s Ackerman for me. Close the door behind you.” His eyes meet the papers on his desk again, and he signs a document, my presence no longer welcomed.

I jerk back as if he’d slapped me in the face. Being dismissed this way makes me feel like a chastised child. When I finally close the door and walk back to my desk, I take in a few breaths to relax.

I refuse to let his indifference bother me.

I’ve been close to death and remained unbroken. I wasn’t about to let this man bother me.