“Wrong. And if you won’t walk out on your own, I’ll have security drag you out.”
I jump to my feet. “Let me just call them right now.”
Sadie’s eyes go wide, and tears start to form. Grant cocks an eyebrow. She should know better. Tears won’t move him. He has no heart.
He looks at his watch. “Call security. Tell them to be up here in one minute.”
I pick up the phone.
“Fine! Igetit!” Chest heaving, Sadie flips him the bird, then gives me a hateful look. “You’re both disgusting. My God! You’re letting a gold digger manage your life,” she yells at Grant, then points at me. “Andyou. You’re just…just…trash!”
Then she marches away. She isn’t stupid. She has to know Grant has no qualms about throwing her out in the most humiliating manner possible.
I lower the phone. My eyes lock with Jesse’s, who immediately ducks his head and scribbles something on a pile of documents in front of him. The area suddenly bustles with activity, and I sigh inwardly. I guess the office got quite a show.
“In my office,” Grant says.
“Just let me pick these things up off—”
“Now.” Without waiting for a response, he stalks back into his office.
I gaze at my scattered stuff. Chapstick. A black wallet so old it’s gray. The tampons. The broken compact. Pens and receipts…
“I’ll get it for you,” Amy offers. “Go ahead. You don’t want him waiting, not when he’s in that kind of mood.”
“Thanks,” I say. “Just dump it all on my desk or something.”
“Got it.”
Taking a steadying breath, I walk toward his office. I don’t know what he’s going to say to blame me for the spectacle, but I can handle it. I can take anything as long as I keep this job.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Grant
I clench and unclench my shaking hands, feeling like the top of my skull’s about to blow off. If Sadie weren’t a woman, I would’ve beaten the shit out of her.
Hey, you knew what kind of snobbish bitch she is. You knew how she felt about Aspen, and you knew there was a strong possibility she was going to be an obnoxious cunt.
True enough, but I didn’t expect Sadie to still be quite that crass. Or break Aspen’s purse. Sadie was supposed to be a difficult client for Aspen to handle, not humiliate her in front of the entire office. It’s hard to believe, but Sadie has actually gotten worse since college. Or maybe I just didn’t notice how bad she was back then.
I should’ve canceled the meeting after running into Aspen and Kenny over the weekend. Aspen’s probably struggling to take care of her grandfather, which explains why she seemed disappointed about being forbidden to work overtime. Nursing homes are pricey, and she doesn’t need Sadie’s brand of snobbish obnoxiousness.
Aspen walks in. “You wanted to talk to me?”
There’s nothing but placid professionalism on her face. No anger. Nothing to indicate she wants to strangle me, which only fuels my irritation. She should be pissed about the purse, even demand that I have Sadie replace it or do that myself, since she was my guest. But from the look on Aspen’s face, Sadie might as well have never visited.
You aren’t even worth her anger.
The thought slices deeply, a hot blade into a soft block of Brie. “Make an appointment with Lola Court,” I say. Aspen doesn’t ask who she is. It’s like she isn’t even curious, which makes me want to punch something. “She’s my personal shopper.”
Aspen’s eyebrow twitches. Is she thinking about Marketta? But she doesn’t say anything to indicate she’s curious. Or maybe she forgot about Mom’s personal shopper, who retired a few years ago. Lola is one of Marketta’s protégées.
“For when?” Aspen asks.
“In the next thirty minutes. Tell her I’ll be coming by.”
“Okay. What do you want to do about your ten o’clock?”
