“He hates me?” I say in dismay. I get a full-body shiver at this revelation. “I think I liked it better when he had no clue who I was.”
“You mouthed off to him once during a meeting. We thought you’d get taken off the project, for sure.”
I gape at Matty as my heart nose-dives into my underwear. “I mouthed off to Wolfe? Are you kidding me?”
Matty winces, pushing away his now empty yogurt cup. “Yeah, not your finest hour. We were sure you were done for.”
I cradle my head in my hands. This just keeps getting better and better. “What the hell did I say to him?”
He shrugs. “You told him his demands were unrealistic. Which they were, to be fair. You had a point, but wrong time and place.”
“Holy shit,” I groan. I’ve been on a one-woman crusade to antagonize the man.
“If it helps, he eased up a bit after that. He seemed to mellow out. We were all silently cheering you on, despite fearing for your job.”
“Well, small mercies and all that,” I mutter. Although, it doesn’t change the fact I now have to share floor space with a boss who loathes my existence. Fan-fucking-tastic.
“Just keep your head down. You know, there’s a running joke that he pushed you down the Plaza stairs.”
“What?” I choke on my spit, spraying his face.
“I appreciate the gesture, but I had a shower earlier today.”
“Sorry. But why? Why the hell is this joke going around?”
“He was there when you fell. He called the ambulance.”
I stare at him, appalled. “Did you witness the fall? Anyone else?”
“No, sorry, Luce. I don’t know anyone who did.”
I must look distraught because he nudges my arm. “Relax. It’s a stupid joke. We don’t actually think he pushed you.”
“This is mortifying,” I murmur. “Why did I have to get drunk?”
Matty shrugs. “You seemed upset. When I asked, you blamed your monthly visitor and told me to drop it.”
What bullshit.
“Hey, don’t worry about it. You have enough to deal with in the present, without digging up the past.”
I swallow, nodding, even though the thought of Wolfe witnessing my humiliation is difficult to shake off.
I’m not ready to unpack more of this disaster—my anxiety levels are spiking as it is. Time for a subject change.
“Here, take a look at this…” I pull out the Daredevil action figure I had stashed under my monitor. “Do you know why I’ve got this on my desk?”
Matty frowns. “Why are you asking me? You’re into all that superhero shit.”
“Yeah, but I don’t display it at work.” I stare at Daredevil in my hands, then glance up—and my stomach plummets.
JP Wolfe is barreling down the aisle, his face an impenetrable mask of steel.
Oh, fuckadoodledoo.
HR Helen attempts to glide alongside him and engage him in conversation, but fails to hold his attention.
No, that’s all on me and my stupid Daredevil.
