Chapter 3
I became Keith's personal assistant.
Once the news spread, the whole company blew up.
The break room was buzzing with gossip.
"I heard she hooked up with Mr. Carter," someone said.
"Mr. Carter doesn't do women. No way," another said.
"Maybe she played some shady tricks," a third said.
I walked in with my coffee, and the gossip died instantly.
A couple of women quickly looked away.
I grinned, "Talking about me? Come on, don't be shy. Let me hear it too."
No one dared to say a word.
I walked right up to Mary Wallace, a member of the finance department and the biggest gossip in the company. "Mary, didn't your husband sneak off to gamble again last month? How much did he lose this time? Want me to dig through the company accounts and see if you've been using company money to cover for him?"
Her face went beet red. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"We'll see if I'm making it up," I said, leaning in close. "If I hear you talking trash about me again, I'll report you. I'm on my way out anyway. I don't care how big the mess gets."
Mary took off like her hair was on fire.
The others quickly made themselves scarce.
I sipped my coffee. Pathetic, really.
Keith put me in an office right next to his.
There was just a glass wall between us, so we could always see each other.
He worked like a machine. Morning to night, no breaks, no small talk. Just nonstop grind.
Honestly, I was totally checked out.
Work started at nine, but I'd just roll in around ten.
By three, I'd be binge-watching dramas, playing games, or shopping online.
Keith's files just sat in the corner gathering dust. I'd deal with them when I felt like it. Took my sweet time.
Every now and then, he'd glance over at me through the glass, his eyes cold and distant.
I refused to pay him any attention.
*****
One day, Keith called me over.
"Why hasn't this contract gone out yet?" he said, knocking on the desk.
"Forgot," I replied, straight up.
"Forgot?" He narrowed his eyes. "Celine, do you really think just because you're on your way out, you can do whatever you please?"
"Isn't that the whole point?" I grinned. "Mr. Carter, if you can't handle it, go ahead and fire me."
He stared at me, and out of nowhere, he smiled.
It was barely there. But it made my skin crawl.
"Fire you? That's letting you off too easy," he said. "I want you to stay alive, do your job, and pay for what you did."
"Pay for what exactly?" I shot back.
"For sleeping with me," Keith replied.
*****
From that day on, Keith began to "torment" me.
He dragged me along on business trips, made me handle all the flight and hotel bookings, and always found something to nitpick.
He took me to parties, where I drank a lot. He just watched with a cold look as I got drunk and dizzy.
When we worked late into the night, he insisted I stay by his side. I was so exhausted that my eyelids kept drooping, but he was still full of energy, buried in his reports.
I just gritted my teeth and endured it.
Since I was dying anyway, none of this crap really mattered. It was all just fleeting nonsense.
But then, things started to feel off.
When my stomach hurt, he'd have his secretary bring over warm water and medicine.
If a client was giving me a hard time, he'd "just so happen" to show up and fix everything in just a couple of sentences.
Once, I fainted in the break room from low blood sugar. When I came to, I was lying on his bed in his private lounge, and he was right there next to me, going through some files.
"If you're awake, get back to work," he said without even looking up.
I sat up. "Mr. Carter, aren't you supposed to keep your distance from women? Doesn't it bother you letting me use your bed?"
He paused, his pen hovering over the paper. "You're the exception."
"Why?" I asked.
He looked up at me, his eyes unreadable. "Because you're dying. I tend to cut some slack for people who are about to kick the bucket."
I couldn't help but scoff.
Yeah, right. Like I'd ever buy that.
*****
Our little tug-of-war was happening more and more often.
Whenever I was clashing with coworkers, Keith would show up and say, "Don't you have work to do?" He'd step in and bail me out, but always with that edge of mockery.
When he worked late, I'd blast rock music just to mess with him. He'd frown, and I'd raise an eyebrow in triumph.
We were like two childish idiots, locked in a pointless battle as my life counted down to zero.
*****
Then came the night of the company camping trip.
I ended up sharing a tent with a few female coworkers who were giving me the cold shoulder. I couldn't be bothered to argue, so I wandered off to the hill outside the camp, just to stare up at the stars.
The wind was strong at night, and I was shivering in my thin clothes.
Out of nowhere, someone slipped a jacket over my shoulders.
Keith was suddenly standing right behind me.
"Aren't you worried you'll freeze to death here?" His voice was softer than usual in the night air.
"Wouldn't dying be better? At least I'd be free sooner," I said.
He sat beside me, silent for a long while.
"Celine," he said, "why aren't you afraid of dying?"
I smiled, "What's the point of being afraid? It's coming for me either way."
"What if..." He paused, "I mean, what if there was still hope for you?"
I shook my head. "The doctors already said it's terminal. Mr. Carter, don't try to cheer me up. I don't need that."
He fell silent.
We sat side by side, watching the city lights flicker in the distance.
For a moment, it felt like the whole world had shrunk down to just the two of us.
I ended up falling asleep, and when I came to, I was cradled in his arms.
He was carrying me in a bridal hold, making his way back to camp.
I kept my eyes shut and acted like I was still out.
His heartbeat was racing, thumping so hard that I could feel it through his shirt, pressed right against my ear.