Silent Screams (Hollow #1)

CHAPTER 11

I’m happy it’s Friday. After returning to work on Wednesday, Damon continued to be his bossy self but he wasn’t as much of an asshole.

The same couldn’t be said for yesterday. When he expected a task to get done, he expected it hours prior to when he asked for it. As if I were psychic.

He seems in a better mood today. Perhaps it’s because I was proactive on quite a few tasks. We’re getting the hang of working together; he’s trusting me a bit more, not talking to me like I’m an idiot.

My body is right next to his chair, waiting for him to finish reading another summary report that I drafted and emailed to him. I also prepared his speech for an upcoming conference.

I wish I’d have sat on the chair facing his desk. Instead, I’m stuck looming over him, his cologne rendering me weak in the knees.

“Good. Next.”

Good .

That’s Dreygon slang for excellent.

I deserve a pat on the back .

While his eyes read the speech on his laptop, I study his stern expression. I imagine myself pulling on his hair, kissing his cheeks, my mind taking a dirty twist before I stop and repeat my mantra: Harvey.

Damon looks up at me at this exact moment, and I mentally curse myself for the flaming-red cheeks that greet him.

“It’s . . . different.”

“Different can be good.” I hear myself say.

Different can be good? Why don’t you tell him you picture having sex with him while you’re at it?

But then I relax when I realize he obviously won’t take my comment the wrong way.

“I agree. Different can be very ... very good.” He stares at my lips, my ear, before zooming in on my eyes like he wants to memorize each of my features. Like he’s remembering something.

I wait for him to say something. Anything.

“I’ll tweak it and send you back the changes.” He gets up, holding my gaze as he speaks. “You have a distinctive voice.”

“Is that a good thing?” I feel so small when he towers over me. I wish I could find the backbone I know I have somewhere inside of me to stand my ground against Damon, but I’m too busy melting at his nearness.

I should quit. If I knew what was good for me, I’d quit.

“It is.” He mumbles what sounds like a curse under his breath, taking long strides to the window that overlooks Chicago.

His irritation baffles me until he turns around to face me, hands in his pocket. “Stop looking at me like that, Ackerman.”

I look away, ashamed of getting caught. I’m sure it’s not the first time an assistant found his looks irresistible. He walks toward me, and I walk backward, putting some much-needed space between us until my back staggers against the cabinet and he’s standing over me with his tall frame.

“It’s Gemma. ”

He looks at me, dead in the eye, like he can see everything.

As if he knows what I truly bury underneath me.

Is that why I’m so in tune with him? Because something tells me he knows pain too?

“I’m not one of the good guys, Gemma .” I love the sound of my name on his dreamy lips. I close my eyes, picturing Harvey. Our first date, our first kiss, our first time having sex. Anything to relax the scattering beating of my heart from Damon’s words whispered in my ear.

I melt further. He’s so close, my hand instinctively pushes on his chest. To keep his distance from me or pull him closer, I’m not sure.

“I won’t walk away from something so tempting even though I should.” I see him swallow, and it’s a relief to know he’s as affected by me as I am by him. My hand is caught in his, as he squeezes it in warning.

Leave, Gemma. Leave.

My heels are stuck to the ground like a frozen spell. I want more of what he’s willing to offer, and I feel horrible. Dirty, ashamed.

But I’m still here. Hand in hand with another man.

“Understood?”

It takes me a while to realize he’s giving me a way out, so I nod and walk away without looking back.

Despite what my body wants, I won’t cheat on Harvey.

I head to the restroom to recoup, knowing Damon has to send me his corrections anyway. Then I walk back to my desk and answer a few emails.

Eventually, the hours pass by, and I’m having lunch with Emon and Marie.

“You coming to Arrow’s across the street for happy hour?” she asks, painting her fingernails green on the kitchen table while I eat my sub sandwich .

“I’m not sure.” The thought of not spending Friday night with Harv since I have a girls’ day tomorrow is depressing.

“Come. You’re new. You’ll get to meet everyone.” Emon gives me an encouraging smile, sipping on his Coke.

“I’ll let you guys know.”

Sometimes I feel as if I’ve lived multiple lifetimes. Gone are my party days, where Layla and I smoked weed and danced all night long. Harvey was a partier, too, but these days he prefers to be alone.

And I understand his need.

By the time five o’clock rolls around, I’m FaceTiming him and the sight that greets me churns the inside of my stomach.

I think he’s baking cookies with Claire, and they look so relaxed together at our kitchen table. He seems to try to tone down his smile when he appears on screen. Claire waves in the background, and I wave back, anger surging through me, unsure if she’s that manipulative or if she’s just a good friend to him.

“Harvey.”

He nods, and I think he reads my face because he asks Claire to turn the music down. I’m boiling—seething. I can’t see past all this red inside my mind.

Red, red, red.

I bite my tongue instead, forcing myself to keep everything in.

“What’s up?”

Fuck you, I want to say.

I don’t because she’s not worth what we share. Or shared. She’s not worth it—he won’t throw it all away.

I push a strand of hair behind my ear before staring back at him. He’s licking the cookie dough off his fingers, the phone only facing him now. I should be grateful he showed me Claire; he could’ve not answered but he did.

“I’m... there’s a happy hour event after work... I thought I’d check it out this time.” I can’t even recognize my own voice. It’s the voice of a woman a few problems away from completely breaking apart.

“Go! It’ll be fun. I don’t mind staying longer.” I hear Claire in the background.

She doesn’t need to stay longer—I’m sure he’s done his exercises for the day.

I want to huff and puff the words, drawing the line in the sand, telling her to back off my boyfriend, when Harvey looks at me.

“Yeah, go. I’ll see you later.” He nods, ending the call.

I can’t crumble, certainly not here. I’m leaving in five minutes.

I’m still in my own world when Damon drops a thick pile of papers on my desk.

“Scan this. Separate the sections. Email it to me.” He gives me a dubious glare, and I’m sure even to this beautiful stranger it’s obvious something is wrong with me.

“Please,” I whisper.

He looks at me as if I’ve grown three heads. “I need this now, please .” His jaw tightens, yet I’m sure I see the tiniest bit of a smirk at the tip of his lips.

I nod and head to the photocopy room to do as I’m asked. Or told. Marie walks into the room, then bends to tie up her Chucks.

“Why’re you still working? Dreygon giving you a hard time?”

“No, no. Go ahead, I’ll meet you there after.”

“Alright... don’t let him step all over you.” She winks, chirping loudly as she answers a phone call and leaves.

It’s not a small document, and it takes a while before I send it off to him. When I’m done, I turn off my computer, grab my purse, and put on my long coat before knocking on his door.

“Anything else? I’m heading to Arrows.”

“Hold on. I’ll walk with you. ”

I’m in so much emotional pain, I don’t think I can cover it up and shine tonight in what’s sure to be a loud, busy environment where everyone wants to question the new girl.

How’s your week so far?

Damon not giving you too much of a hard time?

Good luck!

I end up leaning on top of his desk, a bold move that could get me fired or—worse—tempt the devil next to me.

“Gemma.” I ignore the way he sings my name, like a soft, sexy lullaby only he could give a dirty allure to.

I stare ahead at the abstract painting with color themes of red, black, and the faintest of white hanging on the wall. It bleeds and screams pain.

He knows pain.

“You chose it?” I ask, pointing at it with my chin before glancing over at him. He stares at me, and I’m glad my coat ensures protection from his scrutiny.

“No.”

“Drew it?”

“No.”

“Alright then.” I narrow my eyes, facing the painting again.

It hurts so much .

Seeing Claire and Harvey together. Having fun, smiling, laughing. Doing what he used to love doing with me. She’s overstepping, and I can’t bear it. And Harvey’s doing nothing to defuse it.

Am I trying too hard, is that it?

The sound of Damon’s laptop closing breaks my depressed state of mind. I focus on watching him grab his coat from the behind-the-door hook. He seems to notice something because he leaves his office and comes back in with my dark green scarf in his hands.

“Is this yours?”

I nod, and he takes leisurely slow steps closer to me, positioning himself so that his slacks graze my knees. Then he wraps the scarf around my neck.

“Don’t,” he warns, but what for, I have no clue.

“Don’t what?”

I feel so alone.

I have a family that loves me and that I love. Though it’s not enough. This thing with Harvey’s dragging me down. He’s like my anchor, and he’s slowly forcing me to drown with him.

His hand grabs my neck, and he squeezes. “Don’t be sad.”

My lips part in response, and he eyes them before looking away.

How crazy is this? That sometimes you meet someone and everything changes? Over a week ago, I didn’t know Damon.

Now all I see, think, and dream of is him.

Damon Dreygon.

He’s not the solution to my issues, but he’s a tempting distraction.

“Smile,” he orders me, grabbing hold of my chin.

No, no, no. Don’t let him.

I let him and smile. He frustrates me during the day, but outside work hours, he places magical butterflies in the pit of my stomach.

“There she is,” he muses with a smirk of his own. I shouldn’t do this. He doesn’t know I have a boyfriend. I’m leading him on, and I don’t even know why. He pushes a strand of hair back and fingers the green gemstone that fits in the crook of my ear.

“One day you’ll tell me, Red,” he says simply.

Red? Because of my dark amber hair? No longer Ms. Ackerman?

“Tell you what?” It’s an earring. How could he possibly know its meaning, its worth to me?

“You change all your earrings every day, except for that one. That can only mean one thing...”

The fact that he notices the smallest detail about me blows my mind .

He makes every part of my insides melt. With his touch, with the sound of his voice, with the looks he gives me. I don’t want to wonder what tasting him would be like, yet I do.

Harvey’s clearly not thinking of me. Therefore, I should stop thinking of him.

“And what’s that?” I’m leaning in, playing with fire. The rebel in me dictating my actions. I’m a rebel in disguise if only you take the time to look long enough.

“It’s special,” he whispers in my ear, goose bumps rising down my collarbone, my arms, my chest. My nipples are perking against the tight black dress I borrowed from Gia. Though I’m not a dress girl—I prefer jeans or skirts—I make an exception for work.

Willing to fuel the fire, I lean forward as his hand lands atop of my waist and he squeezes, hard. I can’t imagine what it’d feel like without my winter coat shielding me from his touch.

It’s more than the gesture that’s making me blow up inside. It’s the way he looks at me, like I contain all the answers he’s been looking for. Like he wants to throw everything off his desk and do me on it instead.

I inch even closer, though we still have some distance.

“I’ll tell you why it’s special if you tell me about the painting...”

That gets the job done. His jaw ticks before he walks away.

“Let’s go.”

I button up my coat, knowing I ruined our moment. But I had to, because of what I so desperately want. Human needs make us very, very selfish.

At Arrows, my genuine smile reappears. People are too drunk to notice that I’d rather be in my comfy clothes by now. Damon buys me a beer, which I gratefully drink. I need it after working for him for over a week.

Not sure what that says about him.

A woody, sweaty smell clings to the air, while I feel the stickiness of the table beneath my elbows. I’m listening to a young woman talk my ears off about Damon. “I mean, it can’t be too hard working for him. I mean, look at him, right?”

I simply take a sip of my beer and remain silent. I don’t need to add details to the rumor mill. Besides, I don’t need to face the man to remember the smell that radiates off of him, the way his voice makes me want to drop to my knees, or the way his beauty invites me in like the sun.

Stop .

And I do. I remind myself of Harv and our time together and everything we’ve gone through.

Fight for him, Gemma. Harvey’s worth it.

“You look bored.” Marie elbows me, and, as if on cue, the other girl leaves.

“I’m not.”

“Okay,” she scoffs. “Another one?” Since I already took a drink, I know that I’ll be cabbing home anyway.

I nod and she gives me the peace sign before walking to the bar. A few other colleagues make their rounds introducing themselves, and then Marie and I spend time talking with Emon and others.

By the time I’m done with my third drink, I’m buzzed, yet not as crazy as all the others here tonight. Save for Damon. I’ve been watching him out of the corner of my eyes, talking with a few people, and he’s the epitome of self-control.

I bump into him when I leave the restroom.

“Sorry.”

“How are you getting home?” he calmly asks.

I shrug. “I’m taking a cab.”

“I’ll drive you.” The offer sounds appealing, but I don’t trust myself in an enclosed space with him while I’m not sane and sober.

“Can’t... I have my car...” I realize I don’t make sense because I’ll be leaving the van here either way.

“My driver will take yours. You’ll come with me. That way you won’t have to come back for it tomorrow.” It’s a persuasive offer except it’s also a nice gesture, and coming from him I don’t trust it.

I step closer before he interrupts me.

“People will start leaving. In one hour meet me up front.”

An hour later, I say my goodbyes to Marie and Emon, who were so drunk out of their minds with the rest of the lot, I don’t think they even noticed me waving at them.

Finally, with my coat around me and the heated seats of Damon’s Tesla, I can finally ask him what I meant to ask earlier.

“Why are you being nice to me?”

“How am I being nice?”

His black matte watch catches my eye. “Well... you’re not driving anyone else home.” I turn around to the backseat to make my point.

“Because I want to, alright?”

“Did you drink?” I ask.

He shakes his head in response and all I feel is utter relief. Since we have a decent drive home, I decide to get to know him better. I ask him little things like his favorite color (black), and his favorite movie (he doesn’t have a favorite.)

“So... what made you want to work in this business?”

He throws a glance my way. “My father,” he says casually, his eyes landing back on the road. I wait for him to say more, staring out the window myself, giving him some illusioned space.

“He loved anything science related.”

“Loved? He passed? ”

I turn in time to watch him nod. “Firefighter.”

I don’t apologize. I know those two words meant next to nothing when I lost my mom. Instead, I ask, “When?”

“I was three.”

I put my hand over his, the one casually leaning over the center console. Then I stare out at the night sky again, preparing to bare myself to a beautiful stranger.

This isn’t me. What have I become? Am I this desperate for attention?

Still, I don’t stop myself.

Because it’s so right with him. My insides feel as if they’re filled with butterflies at the mere touch of our hands.

“I was eleven. When I lost my mom. I couldn’t speak for almost a year. My sister Gia saved me in some way.”

No more words are spoken by either of us.

Both admissions sparkle in the air, the reality of a small bond evolving between us finally hitting me. He wasn’t only a man I dreamed about for the sake of having a crush on my boss.

No, this was me being vulnerable to him.

Right then, he moves his thumb, grazing the side of my hand, the one that still laid over his own. My throat feels like it locks, and instead I want to lock my heart and swallow the key.

Everything with Damon is intense. And I can’t deal with that right now. Not when Harvey takes intense to a whole other level.

I miss Harvey.

The one I knew. The one I fell in love with.

My chest tightens suddenly as I try to push away thoughts of the man waiting at home for me. Possibly doing the same thing with Claire that I’m doing with Damon .

I remove my hand from his. “I have a boyfriend. ”

He takes a while to answer but eventually he speaks. “I know.”

“You know? How?”

“Background check.”

His eyes peruse the road when I ask, “Do you do that to all your new hires?”

When his eyes finally sweep from my own all the way down to my lips, my brain turns to mush. “Only my assistants.”

I’m relieved that he’s done one on Katherine too. I can’t help but ask the question, the one nagging at the back of my mind with this new piece of information.

“Don’t you care?” I know the risk my question entails. We barely know each other. In fact, we don’t know each other at all. Yet there’s a chemistry between us that I’ve never had with anyone else in my twenty-four years of life.

Like a silent understanding. A mutual agreement of some kind.

He sighs, as he does that sexy maneuver again, one hand on the steering wheel as he takes a left turn.

“It’s not my place to judge. Maybe he doesn’t fulfill your needs.” He shrugs as if it’s that simple, and somehow his reaction infuriates me.

I’m counting on him being respectful enough not to steal small touches anymore. Because I don’t know that I can be strong enough not to let him all on my own. I expected him to get angry and remind us that as boss and employee, this couldn’t happen.

Now it seems I’ll have to be the one to do it.

“He fulfills my needs plenty.”

What does he know about Harvey anyway?

A part of me wants to call him an asshole while the smart, rational part reminds me that he’s my boss despite the wrong turn our working relationship is taking.

“Good. We shouldn’t anyway. ”

I’m so busy staring at him, this man that wasn’t in my life not long ago. This man that piques my interest and has turned my dormant feelings into curious, vibrant ones.

“Shouldn’t what?”

“Fuck, Gemma. We shouldn’t fuck.”

That’s exactly what I want isn’t it? I want this man to take me by the throat and pin me against a wall as he passionately kisses me.

Damon is fire and volcanoes and hurricanes.

And I want to be caught living in the center of it. If only to feel. If only to live life to the fullest.

The rest of the ride is silent. I thank him when I get home, and all I get is a nod in response. Then he makes the vehicle switch with his driver who smiles at me as he hands me my keys. They wait for me to get inside before heading off.

I know Harvey’s awake because I saw his light on from outside. I remove my heels and my coat and tiptoe to his bedroom door, softly knocking on it.

“Hi...” I say, extremely happy to find that Claire left.

“Who was that?”

His question takes me aback. I never thought he’d care if someone else drove me home. A part of me is reeling with happiness, hoping that he gets a tiny bit jealous.

“My boss drove me home. I drank.”

The muscles of his jaw tighten, and he picks up his headphones, ready to shut me out again.

“Did you have fun with Claire?”

“I did. She’s fun.” He shrugs, and I want to slap that small smile off his face. My anger tonight surprises me. I’m not an angry person, but perhaps it’s my way of dealing with things without feeling sad and sorry for myself.

I close the door and walk to my room before throwing on a T-shirt to sleep in. As I’m lying in bed, my fingers sliding down my sex, I can’t stop myself from picturing Damon.

My angel. It’s him.

He saved me. He saved me. He saved me.

I swiftly snap out of my dreams, leaving my subconscious behind, as I tightly grip onto my bed covers.

I can’t remember the last time I had this dream—it’s been too long.

I spend the rest of my Saturday morning lazily in bed after reading Harvey’s text—his parents came to get him; he’ll be back tonight.

I’m glad he’ll be with them while I have my girls’ day.

At the shopping mall after Gia picks me up, I watch her peruse clothes for Athena, whose eyes are glued to her mom’s iPad.

“I told you that nurse was trouble.” My sister frowns as she assesses a skirt for her daughter.

“You didn’t tell me she was trouble; you told me she was pretty.”

She stares at me, bewildered. “Same thing, Gemma. The whole nurse-slash-client fantasy is real .”

I cross my arms, not wanting to have this conversation. “So... you’re saying he’s cheating.”

“Didn’t say that.” She puts the skirt back and grabs a pair of light purple leggings instead. “Just... if you guys are going through a tough time, talk to him.”

“I can’t.” My voice is barely a whisper. Gia squeezes my shoulder, and I’m so glad when she doesn’t push the subject. I think she knows. It’s obvious how much I’ve tried, how much I’ve thrown myself at his feet. Maybe that’s the problem?

I want him, this , too much.

Maybe making him jealous is exactly the light bulb he needs. But the thought of getting closer to Damon to achieve that goal doesn’t sound like a good move either.

We spend the whole day browsing for children’s and maternity clothes before we head to a kids’ playground where Athena and I run around everywhere.

Later that night, once my niece is fast asleep in her room, Gia and I make supper, dicing bacon, chicken, mushrooms, and onions for our alfredo. I’m sipping on a chilled white wine, something I mostly only drink with Gia, and enjoying the background music and her company.

“Where’s James tonight?” I ask after cutting everything we need. Gia pours oil into the saucepan and drinks her virgin wine.

“Playing basketball with the boys.”

I nod. When in doubt, James is usually doing something involving basketball.

“How’s the boss?” she asks me, sautéing the mushrooms and onions.

I avoid her stare and try to forget that I touched his hand last night. “He’s good.”

“Better?”

“Sure, sure. He’s nicer, yeah.”

She smiles. “Well, good.”

We talk about her thesis before supper is ready and we both dig in, talking about Layla and when she’s coming back so we can help plan her wedding.

“I can’t shake this feeling that I’m having a girl. If I’m having another girl, you need to add boys to the family.”

My smile withdraws as soon as she’s spoken. She doesn’t know, so I can’t fault her; she doesn’t know how much it hurts. Our closeness apart, I haven’t told her that Harvey and I haven’t had sex since the accident.

“We aren’t ready for that yet... maybe one day,” I tell her.

“You’re right. We’re still young.”

My answer is almost immediate. “We are.”