“Mia? Thank God you answered,” a familiar voice replied. “I’ve been trying to get in contact with you for days,” Vincent Davis, my former colleague, finished.
“Vincent, why are you calling me?” I didn’t bother trying to hide my irritation.
“I need your help,” he replied unapologetically. “The Morris account is in trouble, and I—”
“Vincent, I need to stop you right there. You do know that I no longer work for Corsica Pharmaceuticals, don’t you?”
There was a brief pause.
“Yes, yes, but this is important.” He brushed my words aside as if I simply said I was taking a three-day vacation instead of the very real reminder that I quit that damn company. “And if you’re ever planning on coming back to Corsica, if you help me out this time, I wouldn’t mind putting in a good word for you.”
That had me sitting up in bed. “You wouldn’t mind helping me out?” I asked slowly to make sure I’d heard him correctly.
“Yes, of course I would do that for you.”
This fool was utterly oblivious. I thought back to an annual review I’d had early in my career at Corsica. I’d performed well in just about every aspect of the job. However, it was brought to my attention that a few of my coworkers cited my lack of smiling, making small talk with them, or not going out with them to happy hours as me being unfriendly.
After that, I bent over backward to ensure my coworkers saw me as a team member. I smiled bigger than I wanted, went out to happy hours when I would’ve rather gone home, and planned work outings that meant less time for my friends, family, and a relationship. I played my part well.
Almost too well, it seemed. Because Vincent believed that I actually gave a damn about his putting in a good word for me at a place I quit.
I decided to remind him, “Vincent, maybe you’ve forgotten, but I worked at Corsica longer than you have. I trained you,” I pointed out.
“And I appreciate that, which is why—”
“Therefore,ifI ever wanted to return to Corsica, I wouldn’t need a word of reference from you.”
He paused on the other end.
“This is pointless. I just have a few questions about the Morris account which would help me secure the account for the next ten years. They’re threatening to go in another direction. That would be detrimental to—”
“Good-bye, Vincent,” I said before hanging up on him. I knew from the moment I began training Vincent that he was a self-centered jerk. Sure, he came across as nice enough, but that was mainly because he wanted something. His complete dismissal of my free time and thinking that he could be some kind of savior for me if I wanted back in Corsica was enough to make me end the conversation before it began.
Vincent and that company would never get another ounce of labor from me.
With that, I tossed the covers away from my body and strode to the closet. I planned to throw on some loungewear and then head downstairs to prepare breakfast for Brutus and me.
This was my time.
* * *
Brutus
“There’s a problem,” Joseph, my second in command, said once I exited Mia’s bedroom.
I paused at the top of the stairs. “What happened?”
“The family’s fine,” he said quickly. “It’s not that big of a deal.”
“Then why the fuck did you start with telling me there’s a problem?” Frustration peppered my words. I knew Joseph had a slight tendency to be an alarmist. But that, combined with the fact that this call had pulled me out of Mia’s bed, pissed me off in a way that few things did.
“It’s Taggert.”
I pushed out a breath while descending the stairs to the first floor of Mia’s bungalow. The sunlight streamed through the kitchen window, bathing the living room in natural light. The first thought that came to mind was how I wanted to know what Mia would look like as I ate her out on the kitchen table while that light illuminated her.
Fuck. She’d look exactly like the angel she was. I turned and peered up the stairs, half a mind to disconnect this call and make that imagining a reality.
“He’s been calling the Townsends, telling them that you unjustly fired him. He’s threatening to sue,” Joseph continued, unaware that I was only half listening.
