JESSICA
Rome was a blur of back and forth between Vince and me, to the point of making my head spin. I’m not good for him, not even a good second choice. His world is too fast, too complicated for me to be tangled up in it. I can’t forget my divided loyalties to the FBI, even though loyalty is a very loose term. More like coercion.
“My word is my word,” he’d said to me when I’d made him promise we wouldn’t have sex again or be anything more than what we’d been– coworkers. That's all he can be to me, and it’s all I should be to him.
And then, of course, we’d done it again.
The moment I arrive on American soil, my phone is blowing up with messages from Agent Fine.
“What the fuck is happening?”
“Where are you?”
“Details on the trip?”
“What is Vincenzo up to?”
“Do I need to set a date for your trial??”
“Jessica.”
“Last chance to respond.” This message is the most current one. I’m glad I chose to wait until I got to my apartment to read these. If Vince had caught a glimpse of my screen in a moment of being nosey, I'd have a lot to explain. I begin to message him back, and my phone starts to ring. This time, I purposefully picked it up.
“Agent Fine.” I gruff like I'm in a movie.
“Jessica. Where the fuck have you been?”
“Excuse me, I was in Rome where you told me to be.” I scoff.
“You know what else I told you?”
“Mmm, enlighten me.” I pick at my nails like I could give two fucks even though anger is burning in the pit of my stomach.
“Keep tabs? Get intel? Update me? Ringing any bells?”
“A few.” I flatly respond.
“You’re infuriating.”
“Ditto.”
“Jess. Send me an update of your trip via email so I can forward it to the head of operations. Maybe explain why you’ve been so inconsistent in communication.”
“That’s a joke, right?” There’s a pause before he responds.
“Just email me immediately.”
“Alright.” I cross to my bedroom and flop on my bed as I hang up.
So, my situation isn’t ideal, but once this is over, I can leave and try to forget about this entire mess. I feel very out of control at the moment. Like everything is happening to me, and I can't cause any of it on my own. I’m meant to be this information relayer, yet I feel some sort of loyalty to my boss for some reason that fucks me in the head every time I think about him. Sex has just complicated things, but I won’t even let myself think about that because I have to email Agent Asshole about our trip right now.
I mostly bullshit it. Say how we just bought properties for Neptune Holdings. Leave out the bits where he let things slip about his family without actually telling me directly what they are affiliated with. Definitely don’t tell him about Vince’s relationship with his father, who is privy to tradition, or his mother, who was loving and died too soon. Not about his brothers, who are polar opposites but in their own ways have short-comings that annoy him. The more I type out my boring message, the worse I feel about even revealing unimportant details concerning our trip.
I hate this feeling. This guilt that’s eating me up because now I know him better, and he’s more than just my hot jerk boss with a superiority complex. I hold my breath as I hit send and toss my phone behind me. Kinzi jumps up beside me, and I pet her head, now resting on my stomach. Tomorrow I have to go back into the office, and I dread looking at him for fear I’ll feel even worse if I see his face. Unaware of what I’m really doing, getting close to him.
I will admit, it was weird seeing a bouquet of wildflowers on my desk Monday morning. The only person who knows that my favorite is wildflowers is Vince. One evening, I’d told him my favorite were wildflowers as we watched the sunset on a hilltop overlooking the ocean. When he asked me why, I said, “Because they’re free.” And he’d smiled at me, so intently I’d lost every other sense apart from the space his body took up beside mine. It’s not fair that he’s so hot. Not fair that I’ve always known it, that he knows it. I can push past this if I just don’t look at him, minimize contact, and stick to my work.
I doubt Vince did this, though. It’s more likely that someone just sent them as a courtesy for some deal I helped facilitate. That’s what I'm sticking with because anything else is too confusing. I manage to avoid Vince most of the week, but every day there are more flowers accumulating, and I’m beginning to think someone’s stalking me. I don't note the flowers or my suspicions about them to Agent Fine. Instead, I mostly ignore him, sending a text every other day that there’s nothing more to report. Friday rolls around, and I show up to an empty desk. I breathe a sigh of relief. This is the first gift of the week that really makes me happy, besides that it’s the weekend in a couple of hours. I can lock myself in my house, not having to worry about seeing Vince flaunt himself around the office. It’s more work than I'm willing to commit to, avoiding him. More stressful than my actual job.