Jannah
"No need to meet. Just email your section."
I reread the email Aaron sent me, still unsure of what to make of his sudden change of mind. I mean, we were supposed to discuss my tech expansion proposal face-to-face, and now he was sending this– this non-explanatory email?
"Umm, are you still there, Jan?" Kait waves a hand in my face, and I push it aside.
"I think I hate the Steele's," I hiss, still glaring at the root of my anger.
"Let's see." Kaitlyn tilts my laptop to face her and reads the mail, her lips slowly twisting into an angry pout.
"What the hell?" Her voice is louder, blue eyes glinting with unspoken anger. She looks at me like she's waiting for a reaction, but even I'm not sure what to make of my dilemma.
"You can say that one more time," I murmur dryly, my head resting on my curled fingers. I can't even bring myself to say more because I'm on the verge of bursting into tears. I can already feel the warm liquid settling in my tear ducts, so I blink hard.
I'm not going to fucking cry.
No.
I don't expect him to explain anything to me exactly, but this... this is below the belt. I was so happy when I got the mail-it meant a lot. After all, it's not every day I get to tell my boss I have some grand ideas for his company in my head. But this feels like he's brushing me off, like he's cheapening my contributions.
Speaking of brushing off my ideas, something within me snaps and I let out a loud groan before I slump against my swivel chair. Kaitlyn pats my shoulder and makes a soothing sound with her voice that does nothing to calm me down, but it's better than venting without solace.
This is why I don't like getting excited.
The line repeats in my head like an old nursery rhyme, and I grit my teeth in exasperation. Every time I do, I'm reminded why I should keep my head on the surface instead of poking it in the clouds.
I should have fucking seen this coming. This dude has been avoiding me like I had COVID or something. There've been so many incidents over the week that made me very uncomfortable around Mr. CEO, aka Aaron Steele.
The first was in the elevator the other day. I got inside, and instead of the charismatic and good-natured boss everyone claims he is, I met his I don't give a damn energy. He moved away from me when he "noticed" I got inside-I'd say saw, but he didn't even spare me a glance. I felt invisible but like the optimistic lady I am, I blamed it on a bad day– because, let's face it, we all have our days.
The next was during the meeting we had just yesterday. I made my input-which, by the way, was super smart. Or at least, I thought it was, until he said: "That's fine, if that's what you think works." I got off my high that instant and kept my mouth shut for the remaining one hour.
Or maybe how it's no longer Jannah, but Miss Cole?
Just today I noticed-when I checked my work calendar-I'd been exempted from a recurring weekly meeting I usually attend with the executive team. Without a word. Mind you, the only person who has the right to take you off is no one but Aaron fucking Steele. And yeah, everyone else is still on it.
This isn't just frustrating– it's humiliating.
I still don't know if it's about the Mexico question. Perhaps it came off a bit too personal? Or maybe it's because I went on a date with Clinton? If he knew, that could be a reason... right?
But for God's sake, I'm not even dating his bloody brother. Unless...damn it.
The last thought makes me squirm and cringe at the same time, if that's even possible. I roll my eyes and run my fingers through my hair in exasperation, my back sagging into the chair as I stare at the ceiling, the heels of my shoes hitting the floor in a crazed rhythm.
The mental flash of them having locker room talk about what happened to me in Mexico makes me want to just melt. Dissolve. Evaporate.
"Shit, shit, shit." I can't even imagine how embarrassed I'll be if that's what happened. But then... it could be possible. Maybe that's why he doesn't rate me, right? I ponder over my recent theory and even that doesn't make a sliver of sense.
The possibilities for his unnecessary civility are maddening, and I decide I've had enough thoughts to last me a lifetime.
As for my proposal, whatever his issue may be with me, I'm going to find a way to have a one-on-one conversation with him. I doubt any email would do justice to what I'd rather just explain on the spot.
"I'm attending the meeting," I announce. I'm tired of being a pushover. The worst that could happen would be him embarrassing me. Nothing more. I repeat it to myself as much as I can, eager to regain my almost absent confidence.
"I know I'm usually the crazy one, but don't you think that's a bit extra?" Kaitlyn has one of her think this over, babe looks. I shake my head and reach for my iPad and stylus pen.
"What's the most that could happen?" I sniffle, all the while avoiding her eyes-because I'm sure the moment I look at her, my courage would disappear like poof!
"He could outright tell you you're not part of the meeting? And make you look stupid?" With her arms folded over her "Marina City Towers"-her breasts, I mean-eyebrows arched super high and chin tipped in the air, I know she's about to step into her mom energy. Too bad I'm not giving her an audience.
"Hey, don't look at me like that! I already look stupid either way. If you don't mind, I'm about to make the most dramatic entrance Cyber Blue has ever seen." I flip my hair like Regina George from Mean Girls and trot out of my office.
Kaitlyn follows behind me, and I hear her mutter, "Why do I have a feeling this will be a disaster?"
Oh, it won't be. I'll make sure of that.