Thirty Days: Part One Read online

  “My God,” I say under my breath.

  Back inside, I hurry to the upper level and prepare for my first day at Sims, General, and Klein’s Sydney office.

  Nervous.

  A navy business suit, a bleached white shirt, black laptop bag, and shiny dark stilettos await me, laid out on the bed. There’s a small white box to the left. Curious, I pick it up and open the lid. A gold pendant is nestled inside. It’s the letter ‘A’. But when did he get it? Better still, why?

  “You can’t buy me, Marcus,” I scold, confused. Placing each foot into the designer shoes that were chosen for me, I huff before grabbing at the strap of the bag and attempting to sling it over my shoulder. It’s heavier than I’d first thought it would be and, in the nick of time, I prevent it from falling to the floor. “What’s in here?” I wonder aloud.

  “Are you ready, Abigail?” Marcus asks in a firm tone from outside the bedroom door.

  “Yep.”

  The door opens, and he walks in. A navy tie is in place and tucked neatly into his jacket, which is fastened by one button. He’s so clean. The smell that wafts from his skin is alluring. His eyes glance down at the bed and then back at me.

  “Did you not like your gift?”

  “It’s lovely.”

  “Well, you should be wearing it. Here.” Picking up the box, he moves behind me. The chain is lowered over my face until it sits at the nape of my neck. Steady hands fasten the clasp in place. “Show me.”

  I do.

  His lips curl upwards, pleased in response. “After you, Miss McMillian.” He shifts to the left and instructs me to pass.

  My heart begins to gallop and even though we don’t touch, my body responds to his presence.

  We walk by each other’s side out the front door. Grady waits in a suit identical to what he wore yesterday. Automatically, he comes to my side to offer assistance.

  “Ready?” Marcus says, his voice sounding formal.

  “I think I am.”

  “Good, we’re running late.”

  Of course we are.

  Punishment

  I barely see Marcus the entire morning. The building here is a similar layout to the one back home. Glass exterior, same high countertop as Asher’s, only here it’s manned by Trinity, and she’s not nice like Asher, nor uplifting. She looks like she sucked a lemon—sour bitch.

  For the majority of my morning, I’m left to my own devices, stuck in a cubicle. Well, actually it’s a room. It has a door, but it’s no bigger than a cubicle. A single desk holding a cordless phone, laptop, and voice recorder pretty much fills the entire space, and then there’s me. The walls are white and there’s not even a window. With no décor, it resembles a prison cell. I’ve limited interaction with anyone apart from a few faces that smile wearily at me on my way to the bathroom. I guess I’m as foreign here as an alien sent from Mars. Why am I being treated like an outcast? Where the hell is Marcus? Maybe he’s mad and this little prison cell is my punishment. I would’ve much preferred a spanking for my tardy effort at reading the binder pre-Sydney than this shit.

  Tapping my pen against the desk, I think back over yesterday and how very bizarre it was. I kind of wish I went home to the Coast when I had the chance.

  “Miss McMillian.” The door opens and an older lady with greying hair, maybe late fifties, early sixties, stands with a brown paper bag and a bottle of water in hand. “Are you hungry? It’s lunch time.” Her tone is welcoming.

  Finally, someone nice.

  “Please.” I drop the pen and for some reason stand. I tower over her. She’s definitely exceptionally short.

  “Cup of tea, Miss McMillian?”

  “No!” I say brusquely. “Sorry, no, thank you. Oh, and it’s Abigail, just Abigail.” Tea is definitely off-limits, which sucks because I could use a caffeine hit and fast.

  “Abigail, I have some instructions for you. Can you please activate the email account attached to the laptop you were given and create a password? The address is [email protected].”

  “Sorry, let me just write that down. Again, please?” I ask, sliding a piece of paper across the small space left on the desk.

  “It’s [email protected].”

  “I’ll do it now, thank you.”

  “Enjoy your lunch.”

  “Will do. Sorry, what was your name?”

  She smiles sweetly. “Kelly.”

  “Nice to meet you, Kelly.”

  “You too. I’ll let you get back to your work.”

  I nod.

  The door closes gently as I spy into the brown paper bag.

  “What’s for lunch?” Unwrapping the tissue paper, I soon discover that an egg, lettuce, and tomato sandwich awaits me. I begin to laugh so hard, I’m guessing my time in prison has increased my level of insanity. “Well, Marcus, this doesn’t appear coincidental, that’s for sure.”

  The sandwich is devoured in two point three seconds. Well, it felt that way…I was ravenous. Opening up the email account, I type in the address and select a password. Bellagirl. It’s denied, and a message states it must have at least one numeral, so I type Bellag1rl. It’s accepted. The computer dings immediately.

  From: Marcus Klein

  Subject: Hope your morning has been pleasant?

  Date: 8th of November 2012 11:58am

  To: Abigail McMillian

  Abigail,

  Did you receive the checklist this morning? How far down the list are you?

  Marcus Klein

  Partner

  Sims, General, and Klein.

  “You could have said hello, jerk…shit! How far am I into the checklist?” I locate the piece of paper that was left on the desk when I entered this morning and note I’m halfway through. Well, he has to be happy with that ground work, I’m sure. Maybe I shouldn’t tell him. He’s being an arse after all. If he wants to give me the silent treatment, well, two can play that game, douche. Hell, what’s the worst thing that’s going to happen? I get sent home. Hallelujah!

  Brrring…brrring...brring

  The loud and irritating sound of the phone beside me stops once the handset is in my hand.

  “Hello.”

  “Hello.”

  “How are you?” More like who are you? And what do you want?

  “Is this Sims, General, and Klein?”

  “The very one.”

  “May I ask whom I’m speaking to?”

  “You may.”

  “Well, who is this?”

  “Oh, sorry, Abigail.”

  “Do you think you should state that and the company name when you’re answering?”

  “Probably. Who is this?”

  “Abigail, it’s Asher. You know, for a teacher in business you have poor phone skills.”

  Asher, my new friend, maybe you can help.

  “Sorry, I’m just in the middle of something.”

  She laughs. “It sure is boring without you here.” Her tone sulky.

  “Really?”

  “Yes. How is your first day going?”

  “You know what? Better now that you’ve called. Hey, you know the Asher here is not as nice as you.”

  “There’s no Asher who works there.” Her voice lifts on the words.

  “Well, yes. I mean you, but here you.”

  “I’m confused.”

  “What’s her name? The uppity front desk chick.”

  “Trinity.”

  “Yeah, her.”

  “Trin’s lovely, you just have to get to know her.”

  “Everybody is uppity here.” I sigh.

  “That’s Sydney for you.”

  “Really?”

  “Well, yeah, sometimes, but they are nice once you get to know them.”

  “I see.”

  “So what were you in the middle of?”

  “I’m thinking payback. You might be able to help actually.”

  “This sounds interesting.” Her tone is filled with curiosity.

  “It is.”

  “Spill.”
>
  “Hang on, I just thought of something.” Tucking the phone between my shoulder and ear, I begin typing.

  From: [email protected]

  Subject: What checklist?

  Date: 8th of November 2012 12:38pm

  To: Mr. Klein

  Dear Mr. Klein,

  Good day to you, sir. I hope your day has been productive in preparation for this very difficult case. I’ve activated the account as ordered on instruction. My reply has been very prompt, given I’m still on lunch break. Unfortunately, I am not privy to this checklist you speak of…can you please instruct where I might locate it?

  Regards,

  Miss McMillian

  Assistant

  “Now I’ll wait for a reply,” I scoff, pleased.

  “Reply?”

  “Let’s just say a certain someone has ignored me and made me feel really unwelcome here.”

  “Who?”

  “Well, everybody. But this certain someone, I’m not particularly happy with.”

  “I’m so confused.” Asher’s voice rattles.

  “Hey, Asher?”

  “Yes.”

  “You know I had no idea Marcus was Mr. Klein?”

  “Really, how did you not? You were talking to him in the copy room and you seemed to get along well.”

  “Yeah, we did, but I thought he was an assistant.”

  “Oh Lord, hope you didn’t tell him that. Big shot lawyers probably don’t take too kindly to being demoted.”

  I awkwardly laugh.

  “You did tell him, didn’t you?”

  “Foot in mouth, I suffer, Asher. The problem is real.”

  Fits of laughter barrel down the line. “See, this is what I’m missing by not having you here. You’re a breath of fresh air.”

  The sound of dinging alerts me to a reply.

  “Can I call you back? I have something I need to do.”

  “Sure thing. Be good, Abigail.”

  “Trying.”

  Dropping the receiver onto the console, I immediately open the email.

  “Well, well, Marcus, what says you?”

  From: Marcus Klein

  Subject: Please tell me you are joking?

  Date: 8th of November 2012 12:40pm

  To: Abigail McMillian

  Abigail,

  This is not funny. I assume you are joking. Am I right to do so?

  Marcus Klein

  Partner

  Sims, General, and Klein.

  From: [email protected]

  Subject: I’ve not the foggiest idea what you are talking about

  Date: 8th of November 2012 12:41pm

  To: Mr. Klein

  Dear Mr. Klein,

  I have no checklist. Please instruct.

  Regards,

  Miss McMillian

  Assistant

  From: Marcus Klein

  Subject: Care to explain?

  Date: 8th of November 2012 12:43pm

  To: Abigail McMillian

  Abigail,

  Well, what have you been doing all morning then?

  Marcus Klein

  Partner

  Sims, General, and Klein.

  A small giggle escapes my lips. Oh, wouldn’t you like to know. I think hard about what to answer and before long I have a ‘ding, ding’ moment.

  From: [email protected]

  Subject: Explanation?

  Date: 8th of November 2012 12:45pm

  To: Mr. Klein

  Dear Mr. Klein,

  Playing Solitaire.

  Regards,

  Miss McMillian

  Assistant

  Giggling to myself for the second time in a matter of minutes, I’m pleased with my efforts. I’ll give it a moment and let him finish shitting himself before clearing the matter at hand by confirming I indeed know what he’s referring to. The morning has been so boring and lonely a little humour never hurt anyone. Picking the pen up from the table, I go back to the checklist and see what the next task is: blue folder, read through statements. Locating said blue folder, I open to the first page, but just as I’m about to settle in and begin reading, the door almost bursts off its hinges.

  Marcus’ eyes burn through me. He’s pissed. His jacket is missing, and his nostrils flare as he huffs.

  Oh shit!

  “Fucking Solitaire, you’ve been playing fucking Solitaire!” His eyes narrow as he slams the door behind him.

  “Umm.”

  “What, Abigail, you think this is funny?” His voice rises to another level of anger.

  “No.” I swallow hard. I’ve never seen him like this, but I’ve also only known him for a week and even then I’ve spent limited time in his company.

  “I wasn’t playing Solitaire…I have the list.”

  He stalks towards the desk. My breath hitches in my throat as his hands are placed heavily onto the table. He towers over me as I pull my body backwards. He must see the fear on my face because he stands upright quickly, running his hands through his hair while puffing out his cheeks.

  “So you’ve got the checklist?” He calms, but you can still hear the tension.

  “Yes.”

  “Where are you up to, please?” His eyes close.

  “Halfway,” I whisper.

  “Which half?”

  “I’ve done all the copying and lodgements, the eight different sets. I sent through the information about the work you want done to the Sunshine Coast office. Faxed over the folder worth of information to the lawyer for the accused and now I’m up to the researching stuff.

  “Good. Don’t bait me again.”

  I have no idea what to say.

  He doesn’t even look at me. “Abigail…” He stops, placing his hands to his forehead. “Let me know when you’re finished or if I can help you with anything during this process. These statements can be…well, it’s not going to be fun, so if you need me I’m here.” With that he leaves, and I’m left with legs that tremble and a heart that thumps so loudly I can hear the blood passing through it.

  “Holy crap!”

  Looking back at the blue folder, I’ve learnt a valuable lesson—don’t bait Marcus because he bites. In hindsight, I can understand his reaction, but still, ‘WOW’ that was intense. After my stomach settles from the flips that took place during my scolding, I turn my attention back to work. Hopefully, I can make peace later, but for now I’d better behave.

  Beautiful Stranger

  Marcus wasn’t lying. The last three hours have been extremely emotional. I’m sick to my stomach and want nothing more than to get the hell out of here. Tutting and huffing, I slam the binder shut. Letters mix together in a ball of fury in my mind. The words of those impact statements cause me to sigh deeply from a now bruised heart. It’s all too much to bear. How am I going to sit in that courtroom and hear these people speak?

  “I can’t,” I say under my breath, finding the door handle and pressing down hard. “I need to get out of here,” I whisper, stepping into the lift with hands curled so tightly shut, my nails press sharply into each palm.

  The sound of the elevator dinging assures me that in a few seconds my feet will lead me out of here and into freedom. The sounds of these too expensive heels clop loudly, and as they meet the floor, my heart races faster.

  “Abigail, where are you going?” sounds deeply, echoing around me.

  I don’t answer, but instead I try to pick up pace.

  “Abigail, stop,” Marcus commands, his tone packing a punch, and I halt.

  Turning sharply, I stare into his eyes. “What do you need, Mr. Klein?”

  “I’d like to know where you might be going, Miss McMillian.”

  “Fresh air.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “I don’t think I ever will be again.” Peddling my body backwards, our gazes remain locked. His lips part, but I don’t stop moving as I await his words.

  Thud! My body hits the floor hard. My legs move in every direction and there’s an instant pounding in my head.

&n
bsp; “Abigail! Shit, are you okay?” The words flow out with a hint of laughter entwined.

  Slowly, I raise my arm and give a thumbs-up. How embarrassing. Opening each eyelid, I’m greeted by Marcus, who leans over me, looking down. His lips are curled upwards, yet are pressed firmly together as if trying to contain laughter.

  “What just happened?”

  “Well, you tripped over a potted fern and fell backwards into the side of the sliding doors.” The tight-lipped expression on his face relaxes and laughter erupts.

  “Stop laughing at me, you arse, and help me up. God, did anybody see?”

  His head shakes. “Well, actually, I guess security cameras,” he chokes out.

  “Get that tape…go, go, and go.” I moan.

  His arm grips mine, lifting my body with ease from the floor.

  Pushing myself away from him immediately, I use both hands in an attempt to smooth my hair and to fix my skirt back into order.

  “You are so clumsy,” he states.

  “That obvious, hey?”

  “Yes.” His laughter begins to settle and his expression becomes much more serious.

  “So…I will bid you farewell, sir. My job here is done for today.” Nervously, I put more distance between us. “I can’t—”

  “Abigail.” He lurches forwards. “Let’s find you a seat.”

  “I’m fine. I’m just going to get some fresh air.”

  “Come with me…you could have a concussion.” His hand grasps mine, but I shake it free.

  “Please don’t.”

  “Nobody can see us.”

  “That’s not the point. You can’t just—”

  “What?”

  “Never mind, I just need some air,” I beg.

  “You need to return to your office and talk to me.”

  “You’re so bossy…you know that, right?”

  “I prefer persuasive.”

  “Nope. You’re just plain bossy.”

  “Well, I am your boss. Now—”

  “Correction, you are my boss for this week. That’s it.”

  “Very true. Please let me get you some water and have you seated comfortably so we can make sure you’re okay.”

  “By we you mean you. And by office, you mean the constrictive shoe box provided, right?”

  He grins before splaying his fingers gently across my back, ushering me towards the lift.

  “Stop touching me.” I wiggle to shake him off. A single chuckle annoys me as he follows behind. “I know you’re looking at my arse, so stop it.”