I’ve known her since I was a teenager. She used to be friends with my mother, before she died.
I fidget with the frame of my watch. It’s not the informality as much as the tone. The judgment.
As if I’vedisappointed her.
But Chickadee doesn’t understand the complexities of my needs. She doesn’t understand what she doesn’t know, and I don’t intend on giving her that kind of access to me. Friend of my mother’s or not.
I learned after my ex, it’s best not to give anyone access they don’t deserve.
“Portia could not figure out how to work the espresso machine,” I drawl.
“A woman with a Masters in mechanical engineering should be able to make coffee.”
Chickadee’s eye twitches, the only sign that I’m getting under her skin. I smirk. Good, maybe she’ll leave me in peace so I can do my fucking job.
“You did not seriously fire the woman because she didn’t make your coffee correctly.” Chickadee pinches the bridge of her nose as she sucks in a breath.
“Of course not,” I say matter of factly. She lets out a sigh. “I fired her because she didn’tbringme my coffee.”
Chickadee lets out a frustrated growl, and I swivel back to my computer.
She’ll get the message. Eventually.
“Sloane Alexander Pierce,” she huffs. “If you do not stop this foolishness—”
I ignore her, checking my email for what might be the hundredth time today. I swear, it’s like a compulsion. I can’t help myself. My fingers need to be moving, or they get twitchy.
And if they get too twitchy, the monster starts to get hungry, and I’m not exactly intent on feeding him anytime soon. Not now, with all I’ve built.
He was great when I was with my ex. That hunger, that need drove me more than I want to admit, and it helped me get to where I’m at, but now…
After what happened with Robert, my ex, I can’t trust anyone, and I certainly can’t trustmyself. Which is why I need to keep moving, keep working…
“Sloane!” she bites, that motherly tone grating on my nerves and making me turn around without question, which I hate.
I hate anyone having power over me in any way. It makes me feel weak and inferior, and I am neither of those things. For fuck’s sakes, I’m Sloane Pierce. I’m one of the richest men in the world right now. I don’t bow to anyone.
Except Chickadee, apparently.
“What?” I snap. “What will you do? I could have you fired, too, you know!”
Chickadee raises one eyebrow at me. If she is bothered, she doesn’t show it.
I swear, she has the resting bitch face of a stone-cold killer, sometimes.
“Do you want to end up like your father, Sloane?” she asks, and immediately the blood drains from my face. How dare she.
How fucking dare she bring him up now, here…
“That’s not fair, Chicora. You know that I’m nothing like him.”
My heart pounds like a freight train, panic lacing through me as I try to fight the memories of him. What’s left of them, anyway.
“You are so much like him, it’s not even funny,” she says carefully, shaking her head.
“I’m not a coward,” I recant.
“You can’t do this alone, Sloane,” she says, taking two steps forward.
