“No.” It annoys me that he’s pretending to care. “Go away.” I whirl and grab a crystal highball glass. Liquid courage, that’s what they call it, right? That’s what I need so I can stand up to him.
I grab the first bottle within reach. My hand shakes as I pour, but I fill the glass to the brim. “You are a Grinch, and it’s time I treated you that way. You’re hopeless.”
I take a sip of my drink and start coughing. This is top-shelf alcohol? It burns!
I shove the glass away and grab a bottle of Baileys. Yes, whiskey and sweet cream. I can handle that.
“Wellesley,” he murmurs. His hot breath hits the back of my neck. He’s standing right behind me.
Santa, make me strong!
I’m tempted to do something drastic, something I’ve always wanted to do: Kiss my boss. Kiss the effing hell outta him. Then bite his beautiful upper lip.
That’ll teach him! I’m going to do it if he doesn’t back off.
But he’s going to back off. That’s what he does.
It’ll be over soon,I tell myself.You’re going to show him all your weirdness, and that will drive him away.I tell myself I won’t be disappointed when that happens.
No, I will annoy him on purpose. He trapped me here, and I’m going to make him regret it.
“Did All Cap make you an offer? Is that what this is?” he murmurs right into my ear. “Whatever they’re offering, I’ll double it. No, triple. Salary, benefits, stock options?—”
“Time off? For all major holidays?” My tone is so dry, I risk dehydration.
He falls silent. Of course he does. He has nothing to say to that. The fucker.
He stole Christmas from me!
I pour some Baileys and drink a little before I risk turning around. Like always, his handsomeness stops my breath, but I let my anger burn my desire away. “No, I’m not going to work for your competitor. I’m not going to work at all. I’ve been saving my salary all these years. And I shorted that big tech stock everyone’s been talking about.”
His eyes narrow. I know that calculating look. He’s planning on buying the tech company, which will run up the price and turn my windfall into peanuts.
“Don’t even think about it.” I gesture with my glass. “I’ve already moved that money to bonds. Treasuries.” He won’t be able to destabilize an entire country’s economy. A small nation’s, maybe.
“You can’t possibly have enough to retire.”
“I can if I budget. And I’m going to sell my clothes. I won’t need a high-fashion work wardrobe where I’m going.”
“Where are you going? A nudist colony?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know.” I roll my eyes. Consigning my designer boots and handbags will hopefully give me some extra cash to travel the world. I’m looking forward to wearing T-shirts and soft pants all day, every day.
“Whatever you’ve saved, it cannot possibly last.” His golden eyes burn into me, and I’m at risk of losing lung function, so I stare at a point above his left ear.
“I don’t know,” I murmur into my glass. I’ve only had a few sips, but I feel warm and fuzzy. “The market’s done very well. Don’t worry, I’m keeping my Lord Ltd. stock.” Always bet on the Dread Lord. Marty taught me that. Everything he touches turns to gold. “The company’s growth is one of the reasons I’m able to retire so young,” I add, to twist the knife further.
“A million?” he muses. “Maybe one point three. You can’t have saved more than that.”
I hold my breath, because he’s right.
“You can’t live on that.”
“I can.” It’s called geo-arbitrage, but I’m not going to tell him that because I don’t want him to know where I’m going. I’m going to travel, starting with Bangkok or Addis Ababa.
“Not in New York.”
I freeze. I can’t let him discover my plan. “I can if I eat lentils.”
