There was bound to be some anger or resentment on his part. He might not be ready to see or speak to me yet.Looking at him, I could see that he wasn't...the same old Jared. But shit, I wasn't the same old Audrey. He was thinner. I'm not sure that was a good thing. He wasn't overweight to begin with. I guess we'd both handled the depression in different ways. I spent a lot of my time lying around eating chocolate so maybe I'd gained two or fourteen pounds. And maybe my ass had spread a bit and my. His guess was Borderline Personality Disorder. He had known more than his fair share of BPD chicks in his life, and he had become quite adept at sensing it in women. They’re clingy to the point of annoyance. They’re emotions rule their lives, with rapid and extreme emotional shifts that are more intense and have a longer duration than normal. To them, the world is in black and white and everything revolves around them. You may be an angel to them at first, until you look at them. Seeing my co-workers, both male and female eat the cookies was quite exciting to me, especially since they had no idea about the special ingredient. I know, not very nice, I never claimed I was and there was nothing wrong with them and contained very little fat. From that point on, I brought in some fresh baked cookies, on a regular basis. My co-workers were not the only ones who got to enjoy them. Her co-workers, almost all young females, got to eat them as well. I had her take pictures of. My father had a smile on his face for the other men but turned to me briefly and scowled as I fled the room.My stepfather was the only one who didn’t seem pleased. We weren’t there to make any business deals with a pretty-boy Spain matador, he said later in my room, when he was slapping me around. I was there to impress Nuncio, he admonished me.“You didn’t tell me I was here to give myself to a fat, old man,” I said. The baron slapped me again then and said, “Your job here is to make him think.