SIR (by Aria Steele) novel Chapter 11

My brain is both frozen, and moving too fast. It can’t think quick enough to make my body move, to plan my next step, because it is too busy thinking over what just happened.

My boss just killed someone. In his office. In the chair that I sometimes sit in.

My biggest question is why?

My second question is how. How did he do it with such… casualness? Like he’s done it before?

I need to get out. That is the first thing I need to do.

With the adrenaline shaking my body, I slowly step towards the door. Peering round the edge of the wood, I swallow the lump in my throat when I see David walking back around the room, towards his desk, using a cloth to clean his gun before putting it down, then he stares at the desk. I see him reach a hand out, moving something, and then he just stops.

breathe, watching him go dead still, then he straightens up, picks his gun back up, and puts it into his belt. He readjusts his waistcoat, picks his suit jacket off the side of the desk, shrugs it on, and then walks out the room.

When the office door closes, I let out a loud breath and drop to my knees, finally letting the emotions rush through me. The tears fall freely this time, hitting the tile flooring one after the other.

After a few minutes, after my eyes refuse to produce anymore tears, I set about pushing myself up from the floor. I finally pull the door open, double, triple checking that the office is clear, and slowly step out. I walk past the desk, towards the door, when my eye catches sight of something on his desk.

My phone.

A shot of white hot panic goes through me. He must have seen it. It’s just beside the Whitaker paper I put down. I must have left it when I rushed to the bathroom. I cautiously go to pick it up, looking around the office as I put it in my pocket. The room is as silent as I am.

I catch sight of the chair again.

I suddenly run out of the room.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

That night, I can’t sleep.

Not even five minutes where my eyes close. I’m staring at the ceiling all night, my brain not so kindly replaying the moment when David’s gun goes off. Replaying his words. Replaying Trent’s body go limp.

I turn over every five minutes. I get up and walk around my apartment a few times. I sit on the kitchen floor for a little bit while I have some water.

Before I know it, it’s 6.30am, and my work alarm is going off. I take a few seconds to turn it off, debating whether I am even going to go in today. It’s a Friday, which means that if I call in sick, then I will have a few days to think things over a bit more.

If I do call in sick though, I feel like he will know the reason why.

Over the night, I came to the conclusion that there is no feasible way for David to not have seen my phone. Therefore, he knows I’ve been in his office, and probably suspects that I saw something, if not everything with Trent. I don’t know what he will do once he sees me to ensure that I won’t talk.

Is David the type of person to kill me to stop me blabbing?

Before last night, I’d have said absolutely not. Now though, I really am not sure.

I decide to call in sick to both my day job, and my evening job. Sel is concerned, seeing as I never call in sick, but I need the time to myself. At least now, I’m not expected at either job until Monday.

I spend the weekend holed away, only opening the door for takeout deliveries, thinking about the next step. How to act. What to say. Whether to quit.

Monday morning, I walk into the building acting normal. Well, as normal as I can, anyway.

As the lift gets closer and closer to mine and David’s floor, the anxiety starts bubbling in my stomach. I leave the elevator, holding my head high, trying to recreate the same confidence I use while ordering my submissives around.

I am in control.

I dump my things by my desk, quickly gathering the things that I need to take into David’s, and go to the coffee machine to make us both a cup. Once it has brewed, I pick up his cup, the relevant files, and head out.

Just like any other morning.

I walk in without knocking, like I usually would. His eyes instantly snap up to me as I walk over to his desk. Placing his coffee down beside his hand, I slip the files in front of him as he talks on the phone. But I can feel his eyes trained on me.

“I’ll call you back.” He mutters into the phone before throwing it on his desk. “Nora…” He says, and I pause my shuffling to look at him. His eyes flick between mine for a few seconds. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m… I’m fine, Mr. Reid.” I reply.

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