Ugh! Your boss is so terrible for making you work on the holidays.
I’m hanging up a ‘Fuck Nicholas Saint’ ornament on the tree in your honor this year!
Thank y’all so much for understanding.
Truly.
I wish I could come home so bad…
As I was searching for the teary-eyed emoji, my office door swung open and Nicholas stormed inside.
Red-faced and jaw clenched, he glared at me like I’d personally ruined his day.
“Yes?” I asked calmly. “Is there something wrong, Mr. Saint?”
“Yes, there is something wrong, Miss Dawson.” He stepped closer. “I called you several times last night and you didn’t answer.”
“I went to bed early.”
“You’re incapable of going to sleep before ten o’clock,” he said flatly. “I called you at seven.”
“Well, maybe I’ve been super tired because I’m once again handling a huge project for a boss who won’t give me a bit of appreciation or thanks for it.”
“Your extra half a million dollars is the appreciation, and you weren’t sleeping,” he said. “You wereignoringme.”
“I’m still not finished decorating my place—which you know means the world to me and consumes all my free time. And you’re seriously questioning why I might be tired?”
“I’m telling you that you weren’t sleeping,” he said. “I know you weren’t.”
I swallowed, my mind scrambling for a rebuttal that didn’t exist.
“Your avoidance aside,” he continued, “are you trying to sabotage my inheritance?”
“What?”
“I really hate when you make me repeat myself,” he said. “Where the hell is my wife?”
“I’m sure she’s in the building somewhere…”
“I wouldn’t be asking about her if she was, Jenna.” His teeth ground together. “We need to take the damn photos and go over our scripts again.”
“Well, I told her what time to arrive, and she assured me she was on her way. I promise.”
“Well, either she’s lying or you’re lying, and given how you feel about me, I’m inclined to believe it’s you.”
“I don’t feel anything for you.”
“Thank you for making my point,” he said. “You’re deliberately being petty and trying to sabotage this entire thing.”
“No, I’m definitely not,” I hissed. “But you know what? Maybe Laura came to her senses about how awful of a husband you’d be—even in pretend mode—and decided not to show up.”
“If she’s not here within the next?—”
The door opened before he could finish.
“Sorry, I’m late!” Laura rushed in, wearing a fluffy gray coat. She hurried straight to Nicholas and wrapped her arms around him. “I had a little trouble remembering what Miss Dawson said about the private parking.”
“No worries at all, Laura,” I said quickly, shooting Nicholas a told-you-so look.
