The-Spanish-Love-Deception-www.indianpdf

“Future boss, you are not there yet. So, I think the firing privileges are out of
your reach for now.”
Aaron shook off my hand, stepping in Gerald’s direction, into him. “I
asked you a question.” One more slow, heavy step, and he got in the other
man’s face. “Do you want to keep your job, Gerald? Because I can end you.
Your golf friends up there won’t be able to do a single thing, and neither will
your minions at HR.”
Gerald turned quiet, the mock falling off his face.
The frustration at being so powerless, so helpless at how everything had
unraveled so out of control, brought a familiar pressure to the backs of my
eyes.
I hate this. I hate it with all my fucking soul. Why do people find pleasure
in bringing down others? Why us? Why so soon?
Aaron’s sneer, the way his body was all stiff and impossibly tense, told
me that he was about to lose his restraint.
“Aaron, stop.” My voice faltered. I couldn’t cry. I wouldn’t do that. Not
right here with half the people in the company staring.
But Aaron wasn’t budging. He remained a marble statue, awaiting
Gerald’s answer, as if he had a whole lifetime to do so.
“Aaron, please.” I willed my voice to harden. But he was transfixed.
Unmovable. “You are making it all worse.”
Was that the truth? I couldn’t be sure, but it was what had left my lips. It
was what seemed to make it through and hit him like a physical blow, making
him flinch.
I watched him turn slowly, and he—the man I had come to need and want
in my life—faced me, hurt embedded into his eyes.
It broke my heart, putting it there, but what was the alternative?
I should have known better. I despised myself for putting us both in this
situation when I knew firsthand what could happen. And it was happening.
Unable to take a single second more of it—of myself, the hurt in Aaron’s
eyes, everything—I turned and walked away. I saw myself leaving the room
and striding across a long hallway. I kept going, taking turns and climbing
down stairs without a course of direction. I was on automatic, and cowering
was my default.
“Catalina, stop running away.” Pure, unfiltered desperation governed
Aaron’s voice, and it sickened me.
I despised myself even more for putting on him yet another ugly thing.