Chapter 25 - The Aggravation (2/2)
She locks her bedroom door, turns off the light, and sulks in her bed. She decides she won't come out of this room for the next billion years. She hears the two having an argument outside, their voices rising. She could hear some of the words being thrown out in the open, and most of them make her cringe. At one point, Karen's slamming her fist on Claire's door. ”Get out here, you bitch!”
Claire grits her teeth but stands her ground. She screams, ”Get out of my face, you two idiots! Or I'll call the cops on you and your rapist boyfriend!”
She's always known that Karen is stupid, but only now she realizes Karen is really THAT stupid. And totally living in her own bubble of self-delusion. To witness such an attack and instantly craft a self-denying fantasy that your own roommate is trying to have some savage sėxytime with your boyfriend—isn't that the very height of stupidity? But really, what's surprising about it? Karen isn't exactly known for making good life decisions, so what can anyone expect?
Nevertheless, Claire is hurt. She's tired and hurt and sick to her stomach. The over-sized t-shirt she wears feels like flimsy armor against the ravages of the day, and there's only so much that she can take. Yesterday, she was slugging it out with the CEO of some cosmetics company, Michelle Alcantara, right in the infinity pool of Gabriel Tan's mansion, then today she was trying to fend off the sėxuȧŀ advances of someone she had thought to be a friend. What kind of life does she lead? Why and how has it all become this complicated?
In the darkness of her room, Claire tries to make a life-changing decision: what should be her next move? She has to speak with Gabriel, compel him to define the boundaries of her job. She feels she has been somewhat bamboozled into this fake fiancée role. Doesn't the Red Contract she has signed describe her job as a personal ȧssistant? So what's this? Despite the glamor and the action and the fun, this fake engagement should be part of the terms and conditions, and she won't let someone like Gabriel Tan take advantage of her like that. Gabriel can fool anyone else and make them dance on his palm, but not Claire Monteverde.
There are knocks on the door. Claire screams, ”Go away! I'm just a heartbeat away from calling the cops, Karen. Don't you test me!”
”We have to talk,” a man's voice says. It's eerily familiar.
”Who's there?” Claire's brow knits in confusion.
”It's Gabriel.”
Claire flings the door open, her heart pounding. Indeed, it's Gabriel, and he doesn't look happy.
”If you're going to give me another task today, I'm going to kill myself,” she mutters.
Claire gazes at him, a million questions running through her head. But she's tired and depressed and finding answers to her questions feels like the last thing she wants at the moment.
When Gabriel wraps her in his arms (in that totally boss-personal ȧssistant way, her mind insists), she lets go. She just cries. She cries like a baby. She cries as if she isn't the strongest woman she knows. Because for some reason, regardless of what kind of news or what trick Gabriel has up his sleeve this time, Claire doesn't care, not at the moment. Because Gabriel Tan, despite his flaws, seems spot-on this time: Indeed, all she needs is a hug.