Still, he doesn’t move. Not a word. But his eyes raise from his desktop to meet mine.
“I realize this is short notice,” I say, “but I’m confident someone of your capabilities won’t find it challenging to replace me. After all, I’m just?—”
“Stop.”
He picks up the envelope. Opens it. Starts to read.
I watch his eyes move across the page. His expression doesn’t change, but there’s a sense of electricity gathering in the air like a tornado is going to touch down any second.
When he finishes reading, he sets the letter down gently. “‘Life is too short to spend it being humiliated,’” he quotes.
My face burns, but I hold my ground. “I stand by every word.”
“You think I ‘humiliated’ you this morning.”
“You did.”
“I held you to the same standards I hold everyone in this company.”
“You dressed me down in front of thirty people for bringing pastries.”
“I addressed unprofessional behavior that was disrupting my kitchen during prep hours.”
I almost can’t believe what I’m hearing. “You want to talk about ‘unprofessional’? How about changing in your office with the door wide-ass open?”
“Is that what this little outburst is about? You’re the one who put your hands on me, lest you forget.” His mouth twists in a cruel, taunting smirk. “You still haven’t explained that particular bit of behavior.”
I could tell him. It would almost be nice to watch his face change when he realizes he’s been berating a woman who’s going blind. See him scramble to backtrack, to apologize, to make it right. A cowering Bastian might be a nice change of pace.
But I don’t want his pity. I want my dignity.
“It doesn’t matter,” I say. “None of it matters. I quit.”
“Just like that? Six years, and you’re walking out because I hurt your precious feelings?”
“You didn’t hurt—God,you’re such a— You didn’t ‘hurt my feelings,’ okay? I would never give you that power over me.”I take a step back when he saunters toward me to maintain distance. “If anything, you clarified them. I’ve been killing myself for this company and all you did this morning was show me that that sacrifice was neither respected nor worthwhile. So I’m out. I want away from you before you finish doing what you so clearly enjoy doing, which is ruining the lives of everyone unfortunate enough to come into contact with you.”
Instead of answering, he does something I don’t expect: He takes my resignation letter and starts tearing it. Strip by strip, my angry words become confetti.
And my jaw drops. “What are you?—”
“No.”
“‘No’? What does ‘no’ mean?”
“No, you can’t quit.” He dumps the pieces into his wastebasket. “I don’t accept.”
“You don’taccept?” I want to tear my hair out, because what he’s saying makes no sense. “Are you actually insane? That’s not how resignation works, Bastian. You can’t just?—”
“Watch me.” He crosses his arms over his chest. “You’ll honor the terms of the contract you signed, and that’s final.”
“Or what? You’ll sue me?” I’m vibrating with rage now. Absolutely fuming, frothing-at-the-mouth feral. “Go ahead. Take the woman who makes sixty-eight grand a year to court. I’m sure that’ll do wonders for your reputation.”
“My reputation can handle it.” He stalks toward me until he’s close enough to reach out and touch me if he chose to. His breath is minty, his cologne musky, his eyes bright and scathing. “Yours, on the other hand? Not so much. Good luck getting hiredanywhere in Chicago hospitality after walking out on Bastian Hale.”
6
BASTIAN
