Un-Tying the Knot {h.s.}

Chapter 48

Eleanor's office is quiet and still, and the only light left in the barren reception area is the glowing golden light from the desk lamp poised precariously near my elbow. I can't help but sigh out of boredom as I glance over at the filing cabinets.

7:18 pm.

I crane my neck a little, trying to listen for any small indication that the two women in Eleanor's office might be wrapping up their meeting soon. Unfortunately, that doesn't seem to be the case.

Calley had come by around 3 'o clock this afternoon, and even I was stunned by the procession that strolled its way through the office at her arrival. The wedding planner of the hour, as I like to call her, caused both Isabelle and Kristen to cease their conspiratorial whispers enough to straighten up and pretend to work while she breezed in like a hurricane. She was carrying an arm full of fabric rolls with bags hanging off her occupied forearms.

But that was nothing compared to the three tall, brawny men, far too tan for their own good, that appeared behind her. Their work boots left pitted impressions into the plush carpeting as they strong-armed huge, jangling crates that clearly announced the fragile nature of whatever was inside.

The broken-minded part of me wanted to size them up as a body-bait distraction for the broken-hearted part of me, but nothing could quite quell the dejectedness I felt for what had transpired between Harry and I over the last week. Not even a hot dude carrying heavy things. So instead, I focused on anything else I could distract my brain with.

Which led me back to thinking about the procession from earlier this afternoon, mostly about the alluring sex appeal Calley exudes and how she does it. I wonder if she pulled those guys off the street -- my mind letting me super-impose an image of her in my minds eye of her smiling flirtatiously at the buff studs before convincing them to do her bidding with a smile and the sway of her hips.

I wish I had that skill. Maybe I wouldn't be pining after my boss' fiance, if so. Eleanor was right about a few things, I suppose.

I quickly brush the thought off, forcing the bitterness down as I remember Calley adjusting Harry's tie in his office months ago. I can only imagine how she cooed her thanks to the hunks in a similar fashion before locking herself up in Eleanor's office.

Neither of them resurfaced all afternoon -- and as the other assistants took their leave, I was of course expected to stay.

So here I am. Wishing desperately that I had something -- anything -- to distract me.

Nothing had been mentioned about my outburst this previous week, but Eleanor had certainly come to show her wrath in other ways. I tip-toed around the office for nearly seven days, and every day, I waited for the moment when Eleanor would call me into her office, close the door, and tell me with smug satisfaction that my services were no longer needed. Or worse, that she knew all along that I had slept with her fiancé and she kept me just so she could make my life miserable.

But that hasn't happened. Instead, Eleanor preferred a crueler form of torture in which everything I did was under the utmost scrutiny -- and nothing, and I mean nothing, I did was right.

I came home every night absolutely exhausted, mentally and physically. My head ached nearly as much as my feet from trying to navigate around Eleanor's short temper and the Los Angeles streets, getting anything and everything the woman asked for while working tirelessly to make sure everything was perfect. Yet, there was always some kind of fault.

In fact, just this afternoon, I had been told at 9am sharp to throw together a noon luncheon in the conference room for nineteen of Eleanor's top singers, models, and dancers -- a number that left me just one short of the specified twenty that the professional caterer, the one Eleanor had asked for specifically. After begging them to reconsider a hundred times before apologizing profusely for the short notice, everything miraculously went off without a hitch -- not even a hiccup! And after everyone had been cleared out and we were back to regular business, Eleanor called me into the office, closed the door, and proceeded to screech that the table cloths were too short for the tables and that the food was served on standard china when she specifically asked for bone.