“You asshole!” I say as I shut the door behind me.
He looks up from a thick pile of documents. A smile slowly splits his face. “You saw the time sheet?”
“Youknew!”
“And…?”
“Why didn’t you say something?”
“You didn’t ask.” He shrugs, but his attempt at nonchalance fails because the bastard can’t quit smirking. “Also, it was more fun to watch you dig that hole.” He puts the file he’s working on to the side. “I thought you knew, but you were making her work insane hours anyway to force her into quitting.”
I do the math. “She’s going to get paid almost as much as an associate with an MBA! That’s gotta be illegal!”
He shrugs. “Talk to Jeremiah.”
Fuck. For Emmett to be this smug, he knows I’m stuck. He probably already spoke with her.
He continues, “But I’m pretty sure it’s legal. Not paying Aspen for the hours she’s worked would be illegal, though. She’s not on salary.”
“You’re just pissed because I made Amy run, too.”
“No. Actually, if you’d exempted her, I would’ve been in a lot of trouble. So thanks for that.”
I return to my office. Aspen’s at her desk, and I gesture for her to follow. She stands and enters my office and shuts the door behind her.
I sit at my desk and tap my fingers on the desk. Gotta cool down and figure out the next step. “You don’t have to join the team-building exercise anymore.”
“Are you sure?” Aspen says. “I don’t mind.”
She’s giving me a neutral smile, but I know what’s behind it.Heh-heh-heh, fuck you.
No wonder she didn’t argue too hard to get out of it. I’ve been outmaneuvered and used. At my own fucking firm. That never happened until she popped back into my life.
What is it about her that does this to me? No other woman has ever been able to use me or fuck me over. Just her.
“Ido,” I say smoothly, fighting the urge to snarl. Showing how pissed I am would be admitting defeat. This is just one minor skirmish. The war isn’t over yet. “And once you get paid, upgrade your wardrobe.”
“What’s up with your obsession with my clothes?”
“I don’t like it when people dress to inspire pity.” I hate it that she keeps trying to remind me of how she was when we first met. She might not have the selection of men she used to. After all, she isn’t as young as she used to be—although she’s still annoyingly gorgeous—and might think this is her final opportunity to make a big play. She might assume I’ll still be weak for her, if she can just remind me of the good times we had.
I won’t be played. Never. It doesn’t matter how carefully she’s plotted everything. I don’t believe for a second that she didn’t know Emmett was my brother or that GrantEm was the firm we cofounded.
She needs to dress like the slick, money-grubbing bitch she is, in designer clothes, carrying purses that cost more than most people’s rent. I’d wager my Maybach that she dresses fancy when she’s at a bar to hook up with some rich guy.
The notion annoys me further. I don’t want her all over some rich asshole, not because I have feelings for her, but because nobody should fall victim to her greedy ways.
In addition, the most indisputable proof of her duplicitous nature is the fact that even though she puts on shitty clothes, she makes sure they don’t hide her curves. I’ve seen others at the firm checking out her ass. Fuckers. I should dump more work on them. If they have time to stare at her ass, they have time to do another financial model.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Aspen
I actually feel human again after six days of decent sleep. Not only did Grant quit asking me to run with him at four thirty a.m., but he also started to let me go home before six.
As nice as extra free time is—and if this continues for another week, I plan to ask the bar for evening shifts during the week—I’m going to miss the overtime pay. My first paycheck will hit my bank account on Friday, and it’s going to be epic. I’ve never made this much before, ever. I didn’t even think it was possible.
I made a reservation at the fancy steakhouse Grant and his brothers go to, for myself and Grandpa. I want to celebrate my new job and treat him to something nice. Time is so finite. I’m not making the same mistake I did when I was in my twenties, thinking I can always spoil my grandparents with something nice later, when I have more money. I regret that I never got to do anything really nice for Grandma, and I don’t know how much time is left with Grandpa. He’s so frail now, his mind more lost in the past than lucid in the present. Not that I blame him. He’s reliving his happy moments, when he and Grandma danced, competed and loved.
