[Just another note to thank you all for your patience with the infrequency of my posting of late. Life outside of Lit is a little busy to say the least, and my writing moments are too few and far between. I'm so glad you're sticking around for the ride! If you notice a marked improvement in my grammar/spelling/punctuation in this chapter it's because I've found myself an editor --- many thanks to Diatikan for putting up with my tendency to butcher the English language. I'm not sure he fully understood what he was in for when he signed on with me! All the best -~- firstkiss]
It was the longest twenty minutes of my life, and I regretted in a moment the decision to carpool to the City Hall meeting with Mr. Maddock. On the way to the meeting we'd chattily discussed business; on the ride back the silence hung awkwardly between us.
I was doing my best not to feel guilty. After all, Daniel and I had done nothing wrong. There wasn't a written rule stipulating that interoffice dating was forbidden. It just wasn't done and everyone knew that. I wanted to explain to Mr. Maddock that I never had the intention of sleeping with Daniel, that wasn't the kind of girl I was or the sort of behaviour I regularly indulged in, but his silent, taciturn mood didn't encourage conversation, so by the time he'd pulled his expensive Cadillac into the parking lot of the office I all but sprinted out of it to escape the uncomfortable silence.
Daniel was lurking in the reception area, no doubt waiting to hear of our triumphant success over the schmucks at City Hall. All I wanted to do was intercept him and whisk him off for a quick debriefing of the entire Lawrence Mallory situation, but Mr. Maddock was right behind me and I had to begrudgingly admit he was pretty spry for a senior citizen.
"Sutcliffe. My office. Now," Maddock grumbled as he stalked past, drawing amazed looks from Daniel and the receptionist. The shock on Daniel's face upon hearing his favourite order being barked at him for once did me in. My wobbly knees wouldn't hold me up any longer, and I collapsed in a nearby chair with an audible gasp which melted into frantic, weary giggles. Daniel eyed me warily, but thought better of disobeying Maddock's orders. I watched his retreating back with hysteria-tinged laughter.
When I'd collected myself, I made my way slowly to Daniel's office. Since we'd started working on the Kendall project in earnest I'd hardly been at my own desk -- hell, I'd hardly been aware of what else was happening at Maddock Architects. All the other junior architects had been giving me a wider berth too, although whether that was because of something I'd done or my association with Daniel, I'd yet to figure out. Personally I didn't much care what the other juniors thought of me, but I wasn't looking forward to them all knowing about my little office fling, and it was only a matter of time before they did.
I settled myself at Daniel's drafting table, where my current drawing of the east-facing side elevation was only half completed. I stared at it unseeingly for the longest time, wondering over and over what was happening in Maddock's office. What would Daniel's response be? What did Maddock think of me now? Maddock was such an old-fashioned sort of man, from a generation vastly different than my own, or even Daniel's. The sick, heavy feeling in my stomach only intensified as the minutes dragged on.
When Daniel finally did enter the room he did it so quietly and so coldly that I knew something was wrong. I'd much rather that he'd yelled and slammed doors. The stony, blank-faced Daniel was infinitely more frightening.
"Perhaps," he said softly, closing the office door with a quiet click. "You would like to explain to me just what the hell happened today?"
"D-didn't Maddock tell you?" I gasped. I watched Daniel with caution, afraid to spark his ire further.
"Oh, I've heard what Maddock has to say on the subject, Clara, but I'd like to hear your side of the story. And I suggest you tell it well."
I considered his handsome, expressionless face, trying to find some glimmer of warmth in his blue-grey eyes. There was none. The first time I opened my mouth, no sound came out of it. I had to fight the urge to get up and bolt from the room, anything but face another second of Daniel's inscrutable gaze.
Somehow the words happened. In a rush I told Daniel all about my early morning run-in with Lawrence Mallory in the elevator, about how rude I'd been to him, how sarcastic and condescending. I hadn't thought anything of it at the time, it had all seemed so trite, but these things always have a way of coming back to bite me in the ass. Bad karma, I suppose.
How I was to know Lawrence Mallory worked for the land developer? That I'd ever have to have any dealings with him in a professional sense? And when he walked into that boardroom, I'd been prepared to be completely professional with him -- to ignore our little unpleasantries in the elevator -- but he hadn't extended me the same courtesy. I didn't know what I should have said to Maddock about it afterwards, so I said nothing.
Daniel listened silently to my increasingly panicked explanations. I could hear myself repeating the same useless excuses time and again but was powerless to keep the words from pouring out of my mouth. I was desperate for some sign from him that I hadn't made a huge mistake, hadn't jeopardized both of our careers simply because I couldn't keep my mouth shut to Mallory.
Daniel gave me no quarter. Eventually I grew tired of my cyclical babblings and stopped talking almost mid-sentence, and still Daniel was silent.
I couldn't take the stillness in the room. Every cell in my body was straining, waiting for some sort of response, some sort of emotion. Anger, disappointment, relief: anything would have satisfied me at that moment.
"What did Maddock say, Daniel?" I asked after a long stretch of painful silence.
Daniel regarded me emotionlessly for a moment, as if he didn't really see me, like I was someone he'd accidentally bumped into on a crowded sidewalk. It felt like every moment we'd had together over the past few weeks had just ceased to exist. They counted for nothing if he could look at me like that.
"Basically," Daniel rasped, "I've taken advantage of a young girl who knows no better and should be ashamed of myself." His voice was dry, rough-edged with sarcasm, and wholly unnerving to hear. "I've been distracted by a nice set of breasts and a pretty face to the detriment of my focus and, hence, my career."
I watched wide-eyed and silent as Daniel began pacing the length of the room. It was a gesture of old, one I hadn't seen since my first days of dealing with Daniel and it didn't bode well for the situation that he'd begun it again.
"Maddock feels I've been a fool to allow things to happen between us. After all..." Daniel paused to look over at me. His silver eyes were lifeless in the dark hollows of his face. He'd aged over the course of the afternoon; the bitterness had crept back into the lines around his eyes and mouth. "After all, I have a notoriously bad record with women and I should know better than to expect it would be any different with someone like you."
"Someone like me?" The disbelief in my voice was evident. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. It didn't sound like Daniel speaking at all, but an empty husk of the man I'd come to know.
"Someone young, beautiful, and ambitious. Someone who sees what they want and will do anything to get it. You're not to be blamed, of course," Daniel hurried on before I could interrupt his tirade. "You're inexperienced; you don't know all the rules of the game yet. Well, I'm certain this has been a good lesson for you. The next time you'll have the routine down pat."
There were no words, only an aching throb in my stomach that would never fade. It would have hurt less if he'd hit me.
"Maddock is taking you off the project and assigning me another junior architect. You can work with Jim Farrell; he's married and has like, ten kids. There's enough busy work to do around here to keep you and your considerable talents well employed. Considerable
architectural
talents," Daniel added, "as to your other considerable talents, well... I'm afraid I can't help you with those."
Everything felt numb and acutely painful at the same time, like a foot that's fallen asleep. The room spun around me and the edges of my vision dimmed and faded despite my deep, gasping breaths.
"I-is that what you think of me?" I spat out, unsurprised at the bitterness which infused each syllable; apparently it was contagious.
Daniel didn't reply, but he stopped his pacing and stood motionless in the centre of the room. My disbelief kept me frozen in place for a time, each of Daniel's accusations sat festering in the air between us. I didn't know what to say, what to do to make him see his mistake, but eventually my astonishment and doubt faded away to reveal an emotion I was much more familiar with: anger.
"No," I said loudly, jumping up from my perch on the drafting stool and crossing the room in a few angry strides. "This is unacceptable, Daniel. That's not how I am and you know it!"
Daniel regarded me blandly. My fury increased.
