“This isnotwhat I signed up for. Grant doesn’t know the difference between team building and team punishing!”
“You gonna put that on the upward feedback?” It’s Sasha’s voice.
“Maybe,” he grouses.
“Go ahead,” I say as I enter the breakroom.
Jesse jumps half a foot in the air, spilling coffee all over his shirt. “Shit!”
“Are you okay?” Sasha says, handing him a fistful of paper towels.
“Yeah, I think so,” he says, giving me a careful sidelong glance. He isn’t looking at his shirt. He has a more pressing problem.
“Did you burn yourself?” I ask mildly.
“Not at all, sir.” He slinks away, walking sideways like a wary crab with his eyes on me until he reaches the door, then dashes off.
“Wow. You put God’s fear into him.” Sasha smiles. She used to work for me and still knows everyone who reports to me. “What’s up with that? You’re supposed to be the nice guy.”
If she thinks that’ll persuade me to change my attitude, she thinks wrong. “Iamnice, as long as they do their job.”
“Mm.” She checks her watch. “Gotta go. Have a meeting.” She trots out fast.
She’s probably trying not to cross me. I’ve heard Emmett’s in a crummy mood these days as well, probably because Amy’s running with everyone else in the morning.
I make myself a cup of extra-strong coffee, then return to my office.
Aspen walks in, carrying a legal pad like a shield. “I just wanted to confirm with you about the steakhouse dinner with your brothers on Saturday at seven.”
I nod, looking at her with my eyes narrowed. She’s still in the cheap clothes. I don’t get it. Does she think it’s going to inspire some pathetic urge for me to buy her new things, like I did before? People like her don’t change. She has to have been hopping from man to man, milking them as dry as she could.
She’s still beautiful enough to con men. The smooth skin. The wide moss-green eyes. The full lips. The perky breasts and long, shapely legs. As a matter of fact, her legs have gotten better over the years.
“Great. And I need you to sign off on this time sheet,” she says.
I frown. I’ve never had to sign off on time sheets before. “For what?”
“If I put in more than fifty hours a week, I need your signature on it. And I’ve been putting in over eighty-five.”
“What?” I tilt my head. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”
“How so?” Aspen looks genuinely confused. “HR probably wants to keep us honest.”
“I’ve never signed off on time sheets, and everyone puts in over fifty hours a—” A horrible possibility slams into me. “Do you get paid overtime?”
She nods serenely.
What the fuck? “Why didn’t anybody tell me?”
“I thought you knew. It’s your company.”
Her answer shuts me up. But it doesn’t quell my outrage. I’m even more furious she’s right. But how the hell am I supposed to keep track of things like that? That’s the job of HR!
Wait a minute… Emmett knew about this! When I told him I was making Aspen run with me, he only said I was going to lose.
Bastard!
I jump to my feet and stalk out of my office, leaving a stunned Aspen behind. I march to Emmett’s office and barge right in. Marjorie doesn’t stop me, but then, she rarely stops anyone from entering her boss’s office.
