“Amanda, what’s going on?” St. Just rumbled through the phone. “Is this some kind of joke?”
“No, sir!” I rushed to say. “I came back to the city this morning, and wanted to—”
“You’re not in England?” he interrupted.
Dread slithered through my veins. “No. I never had plans to go to England.”
The senior partner muttered a curse. “Hold on.”
The line disconnected.
I hadn’t said I was going to England. Hell, I hadn’t told anyone I was getting married this weekend. I left work one hour—one measly hour—early on Friday to make it to the groom’s dinner. I planned to be back tonight and in the office tomorrow.
I dropped onto a bench only to shoot back to my feet when St. Just burst from the elevator. He was rumbling into his phone. His voice was loud, but the pulse roaring in my ears muffled his words.
He pushed through the barricade and cut the call as he crossed the lobby to me. His gaze took me in. Something was wrong. Terribly wrong. I forced myself to breathe as the telltale signs of panic danced in the distance.
I will not have an attack.
Not here. Not now.
“What’s going on?” St. Just clipped out.
I pushed down my anxiety, thankful my voice sounded steady. “I don’t know, sir. I was hoping you could tell me?”
St. Just raked a hand through his dark, expensive haircut. “Your father sent a memo to the managing partner Friday night. He thanked Kirk for giving you the position at the firm, but said an opportunity presented itself, and you were getting married and moving to England.”
My knees wobbled. I fought to stay straight. “That’s not true!”
Okay, well, it was partially true. I was supposed to be married.
You were married.
With a hard shake of my head, I brought order to the chaos of my thoughts.
“I didn’t ask him to send that,” I added. “It’s a mistake.”
“I realize that…now.” St. Just slid his phone in his pocket. “To be honest, it stung, Amanda.”
“I’m sorry,” I croaked. “I would never leave the company that way, and—I don’t want to leave at all!”
St. Just watched me. “I just spoke with Kirk. He said having you was a favor to your dad. I never saw your place here like that. You worked harder than any other partner.”
“Except you,” I said before biting my tongue.
His lip twitched. “You gave me a run for my money.” He shook his head. “What’s going on? Why would your father conspire with the managing partner like that?”
“I don’t know.” I fidgeted. “I was supposed to get married this weekend—”
St. Just sucked in a sharp breath, eyes narrowing.
“It was just a legal convenience,” I rushed to clarify. “Nothing was supposed to change. I still want to work here.”I am not a nepo baby.I put in the hours. I did my time. The work spoke for itself.
“I’ll see what I can do, but I’m not promising anything. The managing partner is tight with your father. You’d better talk to him in the meantime.”
My dad, not Thomas Kirk.
“I appreciate that.” The lobby spun. The space grew small. My knees clacked hard.Oh, lord, I lost my job.“I can’t….” I cleared my throat. “I can’t just go upstairs and work?”
