Lisa
It’d be better if you sued him first… Maybe combine cases with his other past assistants?
Everly
Um… Can’t you try to last one more year and compromise on a later quitting date?
I couldn’t answer that.
My chest tightened at the thought of working under this man for another hour. There was no universe in which I survived 8,760 more.
Mr. Cross
Ballroom. Fifteen minutes. We have people to poach.
K.
I refused to give him anything more.
I checked off tonight’s event on my itinerary, vowed to keep my interactions with Harrison to a bare minimum, and forced myself downstairs.
The ballroom stretched across the entire first floor, its wall of windows framing waves that kissed the beach beyond.
Music sifted through the speakers, but only a few brave souls danced. The rest were “networking”—smiling with their teeth while calculating each other’s weaknesses.
I grabbed my lanyard and headed straight for the bar.
“Aloha, Miss!” the bartender smiled. “Coffee-themed cocktail?”
“I’d like three shots of vodka.”
“Um… we’re not really supposed to serve drinks like that at these events.”
“Right.” I slid two hundred-dollar bills across the counter. “Make it four.”
She hesitated for half a second before stuffing the money into her pocket and lining up the glasses.
I knocked back the first two, then the other two, the burn sliding down my throat and settling low in my stomach—warm, reckless, necessary. I chased them with orange juice and exhaled.
“Thank you.”
When I turned around, a crowd had gathered near the center of the room.
I didn’t need to get closer to know who they were orbiting.
“He’s so hot…” the bartender whispered. “You going to get a selfie?”
“Ha.” I snorted. “I don’t collect pictures of people I hate.”
“You work with him?”
“Unfortunately.”
“Well, stand guard while I grab a photo?”
Before I could protest, she was gone.
He’s not THAT good-looking…
