Reluctant Prince. Dani-Lyn Alexander
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gestured to one of the chairs in front of his desk, and she sat. He surprised her again by taking the chair next to hers and turning it to face her. His warm smile was a stark contrast to the cold greeting she’d received from his receptionist but did little to dispel her nerves.
She brushed her hair behind her ear and dropped her hand to her lap, hoping Mr. Jacobs hadn’t noticed how badly it shook.
“She’s a temp,” he said conspiratorially, as if that explained everything. Well, perhaps it did, if the position Ryleigh was applying for was the one the temp now held.
“I’ve gone over your resume.” He opened a folder and flipped a page. “Your references are quite impressive, and your work history is commendable. You’re young to have been at the same company for three years.” He frowned and thumbed through a couple of pages.
The owner of Spencer Associates had been kind enough to hire her when she’d been only fourteen years old. Her responsibilities had included filing, vacuuming, and emptying garbage pails for the company her parents had both worked for before a terrorist attack had cut their lives short.
“I don’t see your graduation date listed here.”
Ahh, the dreaded question. She hoped to avoid answering.
Mr. Jacobs lifted his gaze from the paperwork in his lap and watched her expectantly.
“Well…umm…” She cleared her throat to dislodge the lump.
He leaned back, resting his elbows on the arms of the chair.
Taking a deep breath, she squared her shoulders. “I haven’t actually graduated, yet, but the school is willing to work with me on a work study program. I only need two more classes to graduate. They’ve scheduled those classes first thing in the morning, so I’ll be finished by nine o’clock. I can be here no later than nine-thirty.”
He shook his head, his eyes cast down at the application in his hand.
“I really need this job.”
Mr. Jacobs stood. “I don’t know. Our workday starts at eight thirty.” He moved behind his desk. At least he hadn’t said no. But he didn’t sit down either. That couldn’t be a good sign.
She plowed on. What did she have to lose? “I’m a hard worker, and I’ll stay later to make up for the hour I’m late in the morning.” The pleading note in her voice irritated her. She was only one step away from begging.
“It’s not that. You have great references, and I’m sure you’re a hard worker, but a lot of work gets done in that first hour. Calls have to be returned, emails answered.” He tossed the application onto his cluttered desk and rubbed his neck. “I’m sorry, Ryleigh. I understand you need the job.”
Ryleigh stood. This couldn’t be happening. With only a few months left until graduation, she didn’t want to be forced to drop out, but what else could she do? “Look, Mr. Jacobs, can’t you just—” Vertigo assailed her. The room rocked, and she grabbed the desk.
Mr. Jacobs grabbed the back of his chair. His eyes mirrored her panic. Books flew from the shelves. Glass shattered.
She had to get to Mia.
She turned to run. The building bucked, and she toppled, slamming her knee into the hard wood floor. Pain shot up her leg. She grabbed the chair to pull herself up, but the next wave threw her back down. She tried to regain her footing, but someone yanked her to the ground.
“Stay down.” Mr. Jacobs shoved her forward. He crawled beside her, half pushing, half dragging her toward the door.
Debris pelted her back, shoulders, and head. How could she have left Mia? Tears blurred her vision.
“If it’s an earthquake, it should stop any minute. Just keep crawling toward the door.”
Desperately wishing she could cover her ears to block the screaming, she clawed forward. Her knee dragged behind her, pain pulsing with each movement. Falling apart wouldn’t help matters. She had to get to Mia.
Ryleigh crawled through the doorway, into utter chaos. People trying to push through the mess, others huddled in corners shielding their heads. An injured woman cried as she rocked back and forth clutching her arm. A man crouched over her.
Fear and disorientation held Ryleigh immobile.
Mr. Jacobs pulled her.
Pressing her back to the wall, she sat with her knees pulled up to her chest and finally slapped her hands over her ears. It didn’t block the screams. A chair shattered the smoky glass window.
Mr. Jacobs tried to shield her from flying glass, broken ceiling tiles, and projectiles that had once been office supplies.
She threw her arms over her head and curled into a ball, making as small a target of herself as possible. Painful sobs wracked her body. Was this a terrorist attack like the one that killed her parents? An earthquake? They didn’t have earthquakes on Long Island. Smoke assailed her.
She tried to move.
Mr. Jacobs wouldn’t budge.
“I have to get downstairs,” she yelled.
He pressed her back against the wall every time she tried to free herself.
The building groaned against the violent tremors surging through it.
Everything stilled, but the nauseating sensation of movement remained. Sounds were muffled as if she were under water. She rubbed her ears. It didn’t help.
Mr. Jacobs moved away from her. “Are you hurt?”
She barely heard him over the ringing in her ears.
“Ms. Donnovan?” He shook her shoulder. “Ryleigh.”
She had to get to Mia, but she couldn’t even manage a response. She crawled a foot or two when the enormity of the situation slammed through her. She couldn’t draw any air into her lungs. Her legs shaky, she tried to stand. Reaching out blindly, she clutched a chair, but it rolled away from her, and she sprawled amid the debris.
“Ryleigh.” Mr. Jacobs helped her up then lowered her into a chair. “Just sit for a minute. Don’t try to move.” He walked away.
She concentrated on breathing, gradually controlling her racing heart. She could do this, had to calm down. Even if Mia wasn’t hurt, she had to be terrified. Ryleigh was terrified. She never should have left Mia alone. She touched her throbbing temple and pulled back a hand sticky with blood. No wonder she couldn’t think.
“Here.” Mr. Jacobs pressed a dry cloth against her head. “Are you all right?”
“I think so.”
“Hold this on your head.” He went to aid a wailing woman clutching her arm tightly to her body. Sobbing, mixed with soothing sounds of those trying to help, replaced the screaming.
Ryleigh wasn’t sure which way to go. She had to get her bearings. It felt as if days had passed since she’d rushed into the unfamiliar building, and she had no memory of the layout. Glass covered the floor where the smoky walls had once stood, so she limped that way.
“Miss.” A hand fell on her shoulder. “Are you all right? Do you need help?”
Ryleigh shook her head and kept walking, stepping carefully in the ridiculous pumps she’d chosen that morning. One shoe snagged on something and pulled free of her foot. She kicked off the other shoe and made her way into the corridor.
A crowd was moving one direction, so Ryleigh joined them. Some cried softly as they trudged through piles of debris. Others helped injured co-workers and friends, and some plowed through everyone in their haste to get out. A big man with a crew cut shoved her aside, and when she reached out to steady herself against the wall, she dropped the cloth she’d had pressed against her head.
Her head cleared a little. Okay. She could do this. Though