I’m feeling the buzz of three drinks when the conversation turns to Jack’s promotion and his new role as a senior associate. I tune in just as he crows, “Rachel didn’t even know how to play the game. There was no way they would ever have given her the job over me.” His tone is amused, arrogant. He turns to Bliss with a smirk. “She’s not like you. That’s for sure.”
I wrinkle my nose, looking away to hide how uncomfortable the way he’s talking makes me. Dillon distracts me when his hand settles high on my leg, squeezing my thigh through the fabric of my dress. I lean against him, stroking my fingers over the top of his hand, but his focus is on the conversation.
Bliss lets out a throaty laugh. “Not many women have the balls to play the long game.” Her eyes glitter with something I can’t read, and then she lowers her lashes, and it’s gone.
“It’s all a dick-measuring contest,” Dillon agrees, and I look at him, surprised. He doesn’t notice, eyes glazed as he lifts his glass to his mouth. When he’s finished swallowing, he gives a crooked smile. “And Rachel just doesn’t have the inches.”
Jack and Corey both crack up, even as Jack points his glass in Dillon’s direction. “Exactly, man! And then she threw these pitiful looks at me, like it’s somehow my fault she got passed over.”
Marisa frowns, looking as uncomfortable as I feel. “What did she do wrong, exactly?”
Bliss scoffs. “Don’t start, Marisa.”
“No,” she protests, throwing an annoyed look at her friend. “I’m notstarting. I’m genuinely curious. What makes this woman so undeserving? I’m assuming she worked at the company just as long as you?—”
“Two years longer, actually.” Jack smiles smugly.
“—and she had to have been on the same level, skill-wise,” Marisa continues, her stare darkening. But she’s as threatening as a puppy, so it’s not exactly an effective look. Jack proves that when he just grins at her, completely unfazed by her attempt to call him out on his bullshit.
“The girl,” he says slyly, “isn’t a fighter. She might work hard”—his tone implies he thinks otherwise—“but she didn’t want the job bad enough. She basically handed it over to me, along with several of her clients. Fact is, I bring in more revenue than her and, balls to the wall, she doesn’t have what it takes.” His eyes flash with cunning, and I work hard to keep my expression neutral, unwilling to betray the doubts I feel about what he’s saying.
Honestly, I feel sorry for her, having to work with a jackass like him.
Ha. Jack-ass.I hide my smile behind my drink as I take another sip.
Across from me, Corey is gulping his drink down with ease, practically downing the whole thing in one swallow. He thumps the glass down on the table, his voice overly loud as he declares, “She probably should’ve sucked the CEO off.” He snickers meanly. “You’d have been out of the job then.”
I glance at Dillon, his eyes bouncing between his friends as they talk. His fingers squeeze myleg again, but it’s more of a reflex than anything else, and it doesn’t comfort me at all.
“No way she’d be able to pull that off,” Jack says. “She’s a mousey, wee thing. Her pussy’s probably locked up tighter than a nun’s.” He chortles loudly, and this time, everyone else laughs as well, except me and Marisa.
“Jesus Christ,” she mutters.
Bliss smirks, cooing, “What’s the matter, Rissy?”
“Fuck off, Bliss.” Her acerbic tone only makes Bliss laugh, meowing at her friend like an angry cat, her hand curled in the imitation of a claw.
“Anyway,” Jack continues brashly. “Frederick Hawthorne would never be seen with the likes of her. Last week, he was on page six with Georgiana DuChett!”
Amber leans forward. “No fucking way! She’s, like, a superstar!”
“Wouldn’t go that far,” Bliss disagrees. “B-List at most.”
“Come off it,” Amber argues. “She’s rich as shit, gorgeous, and an amazing actress. You’re just jealous that Hawthorne didn’t give you the time of day at Jack and Dillon’s work Christmas party.”
Bliss sniffs, not deigning to respond.
I take the moment of silence to ask Jack, “The woman at your job…Rachel? They were seriously considering her, right? For the promotion.” Several pairs of eyes turn my way, and my shoulders curl inward, especially when Bliss’s stare trails over my hair to my face and down, her top lip curling in a subtle sneer before she turns away dismissively.
Jack shrugs, unconcerned. “They were just doing their due diligence. If they get known as a company that won’t promote a pair of tits, they leave themselves open to accusations of discrimination. By putting her name forward, they cleared that suspicion.”
My mouth drops open, unable to believe the absolute drivel running from this man’s mouth, especially when he lifts his glass in a toast to his promotion. Marisa doesn’t join, her expression sour, and neither do I. Dillon picks up his glass, and the urge to thrust an elbow into his side is almost irresistible.
“Hey,” I whisper into his ear, and he looks at me, his eyes heavy and smile crooked.
“Hey, Angel,” he croons, and I hear a giggle from further in the booth. Ignoring it, I tell him, “I’m just going to the bathroom. Be right back.”
He goes to press a kiss to my mouth. I turn my head at the last minute, and it glances off my cheek. He frowns in bemusement, but I’m already scooting out of the booth and striding away, feeling like a thick layer of slime coats my skin. My stomach churns uncomfortably, and I don’t know if it’s the conversation or the way the alcohol in my stomach sits heavily.
