Chapter 21 THE QUEEN II
Constantine's POV
‘Wyatty!’ She calls out with a smile, and holy chap, she is so beautiful…with perfect hair, perfect skin and perfect clothes that fit her like they were specifically designed for her body. She's tall, blonde, with the kind of bone structure that belongs on magazine covers. Her dress is designer, cream-colored, cut to show just enough to be devastating without being obvious. And she looks at me like I'm furniture, like a roach. The same look Wyatt gives me. The same look the privileged always gave people who were beneath them…the same look they usually gave me even in law school.
I lower my eyes and she walks past me.
'Wyatt,' she says again, her voice warm and familiar in a way that makes something cold settle in my stomach. 'You didn't tell me you'd hired a new assistant.'
She walks past me without waiting for a response, her perfume expensive and overwhelming. She goes straight to him, and I watch as she places one perfectly manicured hand on his chest. Right over his heart. Right over the initials I haven't stopped thinking about.
'Patricia,' Wyatt says. His voice is flat, but he doesn't move away from her touch.
He doesn't move away.
'I was in the city. I'm back.' Patricia says, smiling up at him like they're alone. Like I'm not standing three feet away. 'Thought I'd stop by and see if you're free for lunch. We have so much to catch up on.' She giggles like a child around him, her eyes wide with hope.
'I'm busy.' He says, tapping something on his laptop.
'You're always busy. Even since we were kids.' She laughs lightly, and her fingers trail down his chest before dropping away. Then she finally looks at me. Really looks at me. And the warmth in her expression evaporates into something sharp and assessing. 'You're the new assistant.'
'Yes,' I say.
'How long have you been working here?'
'A week.'
'A week.' She smiles, but it doesn't reach her eyes. 'And how are you finding it? Wyatt can be quite... demanding.'
The way she says the word makes it clear she's not talking about work.
'It's fine,' I say carefully.
'Is it?' She tilts her head, studying me like I'm a puzzle she's mildly interested in solving. 'You look tired. Are you sleeping? Eating properly? Wyatt has a tendency to work his assistants into the ground. The last three all quit within a month. So I've heard.’
‘Have you been keeping tabs on my business,,Patricia?’ Wyatt asks, his voice cold enough to freeze a person and she laughs nervously and waves her hand dismissively. ‘Let her answer the question, Wyatt.’
'I'm aware.' I finally answered, trying to ignore the way something ugly rises in my chest at the sight of her touching his body and he was enjoying it.
'Are you?' Patricia's smile sharpens. 'Well, I suppose we'll see how long you last.'
'Patricia.' Wyatt's voice cuts through the tension like a blade. 'Don't you have somewhere to be?'
'I told you. I came to see if you're free for lunch.' She turns back to him, all warmth and familiarity again. 'Your mother mentioned you've been avoiding family dinners. She's worried about you. Don't you want to even spend more time with old Patty? Come on! We were besties! It's like you've been avoiding me.’
'I'm not avoiding anything.'
'Then come to lunch with me. We can talk about Sunday. Your parents are expecting both of us.'
Both of us.
The words land like a punch to the gut. I stand there, notepad clutched in my hands, watching Patricia touch Wyatt's arm with the kind of casual intimacy that speaks of history. Of inside jokes and shared memories and a future that's already been decided by people with more power and money than I'll ever have.
And Wyatt? Wyatt doesn't pull away. He doesn't tell her not to touch him. He doesn't enforce the same rules with her that he enforces with everyone else.
'I'll consider it,' he says finally.
'That's not a no.' Patricia smiles, triumphant. Then she turns to me one more time. 'It was lovely meeting you—I'm sorry, what was your name?'
'Constantine.'
'Constantine.' She repeats it slowly, like she's tasting it. 'Unusual name. How... unique.' Her eyes drop to my collar, where I know the edge of the bruise is visible despite my best efforts. Her smile doesn't waver. 'You should be more careful.’
The implication is clear. Like she knows something is happening between Wyatt and me.
'I'll keep that in mind,' I say evenly.
'Do.' She picks up her purse, gives Wyatt one more smile that's full of promise and possession. 'I'll see you Sunday, Wyatt. Please, don't disappoint me. This is the first thing I've asked you in a very long time since we were kids,’ she pouts and then gives him a kiss on his cheek which he turns away just slightly away from. She is hurt by it, but covers it with a small smile and then leaves.
I stand there, waiting for Wyatt to say something. To acknowledge what just happened. To explain who she is and why she gets to touch him when I've been punished for letting anyone else do the same to me. But he just picks up the file again and returns to his desk.
'Close the door on your way out,' he says.
That's it. No explanation or acknowledgment. He just gives me a dismissal. I walk back to my desk on legs that feel disconnected from my body. I sit down. I open my email. I stare at the screen and see nothing but Patricia.
Beautiful, confident Patricia who walks into Wyatt's office like she owns it. Who touches him without permission and doesn't get punished for it. Who's expected at family dinners and talks about Sunday like it's already decided.
And me.
The assistant. The whore. The girl with bruises on her neck who's not allowed to let anyone else touch her but has to watch while other women put their hands all over the man who supposedly owns her.
My phone buzzes.
I look down, expecting work. Expecting another impossible task with another impossible deadline. But it's my personal phone.
It's an unknown number.
Please baby, I miss you so much. I really want to see you. I know you miss me. I really want us to get back together.
I stare at the message until the screen goes dark. Then I delete it immediately because who knows if this crazy man decides to stalk my phone? But then, i remember Patricia and him. The way he tries to make me…nothing while he gets to live a life and have someone who he cares about. I think about how my heart still felt when Matthew touched me that day. But then Wyatt…
No
I need to get Wyatt out of my mind. I don't have anything to do with Wyatt except work for him. Yes. But I can work things out with Matthew.
A knock on my desk bring be out of my thought and I blink, raising my head up to see who it is and it's Zara. I clear my throat and put my phone away.
‘Jeez, what's on your mind, girl?’ She asks, ‘I've been calling yoi for the past two minutes cause it's lunch time, hello?’
'I have too much work—'
'I don't care.' She's already picking up my bag and handing it to me. 'You need to eat. You need to leave this floor. And you need to stop looking like someone just killed your dog.'
'I don't have a dog.' I pout.
'You know what I mean.' She pulls me up by the arm. 'Come on. There's a sandwich place around the corner. My treat. And before you argue, consider this: I'm bigger than you and I will physically carry you out of here if I have to.'
Despite everything, despite the weight crushing my chest and the exhaustion and the confusion and the humiliation, I feel my mouth twitch.
'You're serious.'
'Try me.'
I let her pull me toward the elevator.
As we pass Wyatt's office, I can see him through the glass walls. He's on the phone, pacing, one hand running through his hair in frustration.
He doesn't look up. We're in the elevator when Zara finally speaks again.
'That woman who came in earlier,' she says carefully. 'Patricia. You know who she is?'
'No.'
'She's his father's business partner's daughter. They've known each other since they were kids. Word is their families have been trying to match them up for years.' Zara looks at me. 'She wants to marry him.'