“No, it isn’t,” I agreed. “And you skulking around, trying to get the goods on me doesn’t match the level of ethics expected around here.” I raised my eyebrows. “So, count this as your last warning. I won’t give another one.”
As Jay slunk from the room, a mutinous expression on his face, I slumped into my chair, the weight of this suddenly too much.
“Gunnar,” Zaila said softly, “I don’t think he took that well. What am I going to do?”
I looked at her, wishing I had a better answer. “Well, he can’t touch me, but that calculating look makes me think I made a mistake in not firing him on the spot.”
“That would have been bad, though, especially after Lydia?—”
I nodded. “Which is why I didn’t do it. But I’ll keep a close eye on Jay.”
“I’m glad you talked to the board, but…” She bit her lip.
“But?”
“Jay’s my boss. I probably should have talked to him.” She shrugged. “I wasn’t sure what you wanted?—”
“All of it,” I said as I tugged Zaila into my lap. “I want everything with you. And now that Jay is aware, he won’t bother you. I promise.”
Chapter 23
Zaila
I worried for the next week, always expecting Jay to make a snide comment or undermine me, but he didn’t. In fact, he continued as if nothing untoward had happened between us, though he was often out of the office for long lunches. One afternoon when Tim returned from lunch, he said he’d seen Jay with Jeff.
The next day, I went to lunch with Vivian and Paloma and saw Jay sitting in the same restaurant with our former boss, Lydia, of all people. “That’s strange,” I murmured.
“What?” Vivian asked. She’d been talking about her upcoming wedding, which sounded lovely.
“That guy back there—Jay Welks. He’s my boss. He’s talking to Lydia Breitbart, my former boss. Somehow it feels like they’re bonding over the Gunnar-and-me situation.”
“Oh, they are,” Paloma said. She took off her sweater, putting her toned arms on display. “They have a Zaila hate club, I’m sorry to say.”
“How do you know that?” I asked.
“Silas knows many, many things,” she said with a wry smile.
“I was hoping you wouldn’t notice them,” Vivian said, her tone regretful. “We came here to keep an eye on them.”
“Wait, why?”
“Because we don’t trust them,” Paloma said. “Jay wanted in your pants. Just because you picked Gunnar doesn’t mean he’s cool with losing.”
“We are married—or almost married—to athletes,” Vivian added. “They take competitive to scary places.”
“So…you’re stalking them?” I asked, my stomach knotting.
“Pfft. No, though Naomi wanted to put a tracker on Jay. We wouldn’t let her,” Vivian hurried to assure me.
“Might not be a bad idea,” Paloma muttered. “I don’t like how intent they are.” She pulled her gaze from Jay and Lydia to meet mine through the lenses of her glasses—cute, chunky turquoise frames.
“We can always let Keelie bring her golf clubs,” Vivian said.
Paloma narrowed her eyes. “Not a bad idea.”
“Can we just not? I’m kind of freaking out.” I took a long drink of my water. “Tell me more about your wedding.”
Vivian’s grin grew, and her eyes gleamed. “Oh, you asked for it.”
