Ah, here we go.I narrow my eyes, waiting for whatever excuse he has available.
“I don’t share his opinions about you or...or condone the use of his language...” He trails off as I lean forward, resting my chin on my steepled fingers.
The ache in my chest blooms again. Because, despite this hard shell, I’ll always be the fool, desperate enough for an ally, who wants to believe him.
Mr. Chambers meets my eyes and the crease in his brow, the thin press of his lips does make me believe him. Just a little bit. Until a small, crooked smile creeps up one side of his face. It’s enough to remind me of his laugh.
My insides harden.
I won’t be made a fool again.
“If I was afraid of a little name-calling, Mr. Chambers, I would have washed out a long time ago.”
Like in grad school, where I was oh so affectionately known as Queen of the Bitches.
Original.
He nods slowly.
“I expect hard work,” I say crisply into the quiet room.
That sense of satisfaction blankets me again when I see how quickly his chin bobs. “But if you think for one second that I won’t fire you if I get one whiff of you laughing over those kinds of jokes again...”
His eyes widen, his smile disappears, and he shakes his head so hard I think it might fall off. All of this would be comical. If he hadn’tlaughedwhen some feckless intern called me a cunt.
“N-n-nooooo,” he stutters. “I wasn’t—”
My jaw almost cracks and I hold up my hand to keep from snapping at him. “Just because your daddy is friends with the CEO doesn’t make you untouchable.”
He nods, keeping his mouth firmly shut. Maybe his tongue has realized that talking was not helping this situation.
“I’m sure Security wants to take your picture for your pass or something,” I say, turning to my computer screen. My eyes travel over my overflowing inbox but I don’t see a word, only a haze of red. I feel his gaze on the side of my face, heavy and imploring, and it keeps the fire burning inside of me. I count each second until he leaves.
But he doesn’t run scurrying from the room like I expect. He looms, tall and silent, until I turn back to him. He opens his mouth like he’s about to say something more.
“You’re dismissed,” I say, shooing him with a wave of my hand before he can get a word out.
For another breath, he doesn’t move but finally he turns and leaves. My spine is one of Pavlov’s dogs. The second it hears the click of my office door, it slumps. I slump. Any of the anger I had left from when I walked out of that elevator has burned off and now I’m just a sad husk of disappointment.
I have a reputation for being a hard-ass. I’m okay with that because I get results. But this is the first time I’ve regretted that reputation, because it seems to have gotten to him before I could.
Chapter 3: Wesley
“And who do you belong to?”
I look around, wondering if the security guard is speaking to someone else.
“I’m sorry?”
The woman behind the camera peeks her head out and peers at me through thick glasses. “Who is your mentor?” she asks slowly.
She ducks back behind the camera as I say, “Corrine Blunt.”
Click.
She straightens again, frowning down at the image on the display. “Oh dear.”
I can’t tell if she means my picture or my mentor. Her fingers click and tap over the computer keys. “Have you met her yet?”
