Chapter Seventeen
If Serge wanted toprove what an asshole he was, he'd succeeded. Aubrey tapped her foot in the office after grabbing her sweater and checking in with Greg and Vic for the evening.
Messing with her was one thing. To screw with a child's health and wellbeing crossed the line.
He, of all people, knew the hardships of being a child living on the streets.
Already out of sorts from being away from Serge all day and thinking she couldn't live without him, she'd questioned her sanity after he had hauled her away as if she'd done something wrong. What if no one had helped the woman and child? She had to do something.
The absence of medical and dental care, an insufficient diet, and exposure to the elements led to daily fatalities. A child's delicate existence bore the brunt of these dangers.
She shut down the computer but left the lights on for the employees, who often took breaks in the office throughout the night.
Nothing was stopping her from going back outside and getting in Serge's car, except her reluctance to deal with him.
A small part of her understood why he was mad. It was risky for her to go inside a homeless encampment. But walking down the streets of any major city was just as dangerous.
Deliberately stalling, she set down her bag, filled a glass with water from the sink, and watered the plant in the corner of her desk. She also took out a case of disinfectant wipes from the closet in case they ran out tonight. When she could find no other tasks to complete, she walked out the door and locked the building for the night.
Down the block at metered parking, Serge leaned against his car with his arms crossed, ankles crossed, his mood even more crossed. Yeah, she'd successfully pissed him off even more.
In her anger, she'd forgotten how scary he could look in person. She also ignored how her nipples peaked at seeing him, regardless of his mood.
She approached him and stood in the middle of the sidewalk. "I did nothing wrong. I had to help a mother and her child. Nothing you do to me will stop me from helping someone else. So, if you want to be mad or push me away or dump me, go ahead."
His gaze narrowed. Her whole body shook. She had put up with a lot from him and always gave him the benefit of the doubt because he could make her feel on top of the world when he was around. But he couldn't be around all the time. She had a life to lead. She had people to help.
"Say something, dammit," she said.
Still, he stood there without a care in the world, unconcerned about whether he had hurt her or ruined what they had started. It was as if he had no feelings at all.
She marched over and poked him in the chest with her finger. "If you're mad, then tell me. If you've stopped wanting to be with me, then leave me alone. I can't stand not knowing how I fit in your life when you close yourself off from me."
She hadn't even realized she cried until the salty taste of tears fell onto her lips. She grabbed his shirt and shook him. "She's a baby. A sick baby—she sobbed—it isn't fair that she has nowhere to live, no father to keep her safe, no mother who is healthy enough to do more for her. I won't stop helping them."
Exhausted, she laid her forehead on his chest. Her cries continued after her feet left the ground, and even afterward when he set her in his car and buckled the seatbelt. Her desperation for Serge and her fear of that child dying without getting any help broke her.
Frustrated that Serge refused to empathize with someone who had been in the same position he was as a kid, she tried to understand what made him so uncaring, except when they were having sex.
She'd calmed by the time Serge pulled the BMW into his garage. Content to sit, hugging herself, she stayed in the passenger seat. She had nothing left to say or do.
