A hot flush crawled up Jo’s neck and into her cheeks at the thought of Preston’s ridiculous propositions—one filthy, the other insane. Both more tempting than she cared to admit. Neither was anything she dared say out loud.
“I knew it!” Viv chuckled. “How was it?”
Jo shrugged. “Nothing happened.”
“You were gone a long time fornothin’.”
“He didn’t seem to grasp the meaning of no. It took some convincing.”
“Are you crazy?” Viv’s head wagged from side to side. “Girl, if I was single, I’d ride Just Avery like a nob jockey ’til I reached a trifecta…” She sighed. “You work too hard. You’re like a clock that’s wound too tight. You need to blow off some steam. Live a little.”
“If I did, it wouldn’t be with that dick.”
“A dick’s a dick, and if you’re gonna pick one, why not Just Avery’s?” She winked. “Bet he’s hung like a horse.”
Another rush of heat hit Jo, this one centering low in her core. Viv wasn’t far from wrong. She’d felt that monster dick—long, thick, and brick-hard—prodding her belly when he’d caged her against the cabinets.
Stop. Stop thinking about him.
“Looks like the crowd is thinning.” It wasn’t, but Jo needed to get her mind straight. “I’m going to clear.”
Thirty minutes later, after dropping off the fourth load of dirty dishes, Jo pushed through the swinging kitchen door and nearly crashed into Giselle.
“Sorry, I didn’t see you.” Releasing the door, Jo stepped out of range of its backlash and waited for Giselle’s.
“A word please.” The woman’s thin-lipped snarl didn’t bode well. Neither did her tone or the fact that she didn’t dress Jo down for not being more careful or for some other imagined slight.
“Of course.” A heavy weight of doom settled over Jo as she followed Giselle across the ballroom and into the quiet hallway. What had she done this time?
Giselle stopped and turned to face her, hands clasped at her waist. “I’ll be brief. You’re fired.”
Jo shouldn’t have been shocked. She’d felt it coming. But actually hearing the words, knowing they were final… “What? Why?”
“A policy infraction,” she said, her beak of a nose surging higher. “You know my rules. No fraternizing with my clients.”
“I haven’tfraternizedwith anyone.” Even as Jo denied it, she knew it wouldn’t do any good. Giselle had to have seen her with Avery Preston, watched her climb into the van with him, and drawn the conclusions that suited her ultimate goal—to get rid of her.
“I’ll have to disinfect the van, which will cost a fortune, so the cost of your lapse in judgment will be deducted from your last check. Count yourself lucky I’m not suing you for damages. If Mrs. Preston had seen you trying to dig your claws into her son, I would be. Reputation is everything in this business.” She inhaled a haughty breath and tugged the bottom of her black blazer. “I’m needed elsewhere. Vivianne is waiting for you in the van. Collect your belongings and leave the premises.”
Defeat glued Jo’s feet to the floor as Giselle swept past her, leaving her in a cloud of suffocating perfume and shock.
Fired.
She’d been fired. Sacked. Canned. Dismissed. Shaken off like the dirt under Giselle’s designer shoes. No severance. No letter of recommendation. Nothing to show for all her dedication and hard work.
Fired.
She’d never been fired before, but she was familiar with the feelings washing over her—indignance at Giselle’s unjust accusations, inadequate in her own defense, and resignation because there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it.
Fired? How the hell had this happened?
A door down the hall opened, and a giggle broke the silence closing in on her. What’s Her Name teetered into the hall, her blonde hair mussed, lipstick smeared. She adjusted herample cleavage, tugged at the hem of her dress, and reached for something behind the door.
Coming away with a fistful of golden silk, the blonde gave it a playful yank, and Jo’s focus sharpened on the reason for her trouble as he stumbled into view.
Avery Fucking Preston.
He was buckling his belt as she pulled him in for a quick kiss. Fingering the hair from his brow—Jo didn’t want to think about where those fingers had been—he muttered something, settled his hands on the girl’s ass, and hauled her hips against his. Leaning back, What’s Her Name adjusted his tie and smoothed a hand over his jacket, the act as intimate as the one they’d just engaged in.
