“Hi, Shelby. This is Nick Hart at Triada Tech. I’d like to speak with Jack.”
She puts me on hold and with each passing minute, my temper grows until it’s red hot and molten. It’s a power play. I know it in my bones, but that doesn’t make it any less effective. By the time Jack answers, my temper has damn near slipped its leash.
“Nick,” Jack croons, sounding like the self-important, underhanded asshole he is. “It’s been a while. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“Cut the shit, Jack.” I’m in no mood for games. “You know exactly why I’m calling.”
He makes a surprised sound that’s just as phony as his nice guy routine. “I’m afraid I don’t. But if you’d care to enlighten me, I’m sure—”
“The next time you decide to poach talent from Triada, I suggest you not send correspondence via our email system.” Fucking amateur. “And if you even think about using any of the information you illegally obtained from Fenton Danvers, I will nail your ass to the wall in court—and in the press. Do. Not. Test. Me.”
“I’d expect nothing less from a prick like you,” he hisses, finally revealing his true colors. “I guess everything they say about Nick Hartless is true.”
He’s the asshole here, and he’s angry at being caught red-handed. But that doesn’t lessen the impact of his words.
I slam the phone down without another word.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Scarlett
Six o’clock rolls around and Nick has yet to emerge from his office. There was plenty of action this morning, but after security escorted Fenton Danvers from the executive suite, he instructed Rebecca to clear his calendar and hold all calls. Then he closed the door, and that was that.
If I didn’t know he had a bathroom and a mini-fridge in there, I’d be worried.
I’ve been keeping an eye on Oreo, and while she seems to enjoy my company—and the half dozen treats I gave her—she’s missing Nick.
Or maybe that’s me.
It’s a toss-up.
So quit being a coward and go knock on the door.
It’s not like I don’t have a good excuse, because, hello, I can’t take his dog home with me. Everyone else is long gone, and I’d like to duck out, too. But not until I’ve checked on Nick. Whatever went down today, it wasn’t good.
Which has sort of taken the sting out of this morning’s brushoff.
“Come on, girl.” I stand and gently slap my thigh to get Oreo’s attention. “Let’s go see what your doggy daddy is up to.”
Because if we don’t check on him, he’s liable to spend the entire night locked in his office, mulling over reports or whatever it is he does all day.
When was the last time he even ate? I grab a protein bar from my desk drawer. In case he’s hungry, not because I’m stalling.
Oreo and I march right up to his door and before I can knock, she gives a loud yip.
Attagirl.
A moment later, the door opens and there stands Nick with his shirtsleeves rolled up, a look of surprise etched on his face.
So naturally I hold out the protein bar, because I’m awkward like that. “We come bearing food.”
“Thanks.” He takes it and offers me a half-hearted smile. “I was getting hungry.”
Getting hungry? I’d have chewed my arm off by now if our roles were reversed.
Nick glances at his watch and then scrubs a hand over his face as Oreo trots past him and flops down on her bed. “I didn’t realize how late it was. You should’ve knocked sooner.”
I shrug. “It was no big deal. Oreo kept me company while I hung the posters for the Valentine’s social. It was good exercise for both of us.”
