My whole body tenses, and my face flushes at the same time my hands grow clammy. I sit there, frozen, unable to do or say anything.
Jamie glances around and then leans in close, lowering her voice. "The Wellerton is under new ownership."
"What?" I breathe a sigh of relief that she didn't bring up my dead boss but consider what this new information might mean.
Jamie presses her finger to her lips. "Yeah. It's not public yet, but I wasn't sure if you heard. You know, since you're lead on the job and all."
"How did you find out?" I ask her.
She winks and grins. "You know I find out everything."
"Then who bought it? Who's the new owner?"
"Now that…that I haven't figured out yet. Rumor is it's some rich bachelor, but the details have been hard to come by."
"I don't understand. Mr. Wellerton was so excited about this property...why would he sell it?"
Jamie shrugs, her dark hair moving as she does. She leans in again. "Maybe he was having financial trouble."
I scoff. "Unlikely. The dude is super loaded."
"Never know." She breathes in and exhales dramatically. "Anyway, just wanted to give you a heads up."
"Yeah, thanks," I tell her. "I appreciate it."
Jamie returns the same way she arrived, rolling herself from my cubicle to hers and turning her back to me.
With The Wellerton under new ownership, I'm not sure what that means for me. I was hired by Mr. Wellerton, but I don't know if that contract remains with whoever bought the place. They could easily restructure things, hire an in-house designer, pause or halt the project completely. There are countless possibilities, along with the very big one of them finding out I killed someone in one of their units.
It's only a matter of time until the truth comes out, and I'm somehow in worse of a situation than I already am.
The rest of the workday doesn't lessen my worries about the situation at all. No, my mind spends two seconds thinking about the herringbone pattern I'm considering for a bathroom and then twice as much considering what the fuck is going to happen. This cycle repeats for hours and not only disallows me from making any progress at work, but distracts me from the fact that I haven't eaten or drank anything all day.
My stomach growling is the only thing that brings me back to reality, the loud grumble catching me off-guard and reddening my cheeks. I place my hand on my belly and look around, hoping no one heard the intrusion, and reach for the bottle of water that's been sitting there since a couple days ago. My jaw aches as I take a long swig of the water. My body might be hungry, but it's hard to have much of an appetite when so many things are uncertain. I don't want to eat anything, but if I stand any chance of continuing work without my stomach betraying me, I need to consumesomething.
I stand from my desk, stretch my sore body, and walk a few feet to the break room. At least one perk of being tucked away in the back corner cubicles is being close to the break room. It's fewer people you have to walk by, and because of where I'm located, no one goes near my desk on their way to the room, either. The only downside is having to go past everyone on my way in and out of work, but usually I'm here earlier and stay later, so I can bypass that awkwardness. There are only so many fake smiles and forced pleasantries I can make on a daily basis.
The half-full coffee pot draws my attention first, and I pour myself a cup of the no-doubt-burnt java. I don't even bother tasting it before I dump in two little things of French vanilla creamer and give it a quick stir. Eyeing the box of donuts on the break table, I go over and check out the remaining selection. Only the regular glazed are left, and they're probably stale, but I take one anyway, bite off a chunk, and swallow it down with the coffee.
There, body, are you happy?
I eat the rest of the donut in record speed, but then remain in the quiet room and sip on my coffee. My thoughts wander, and I do nothing to reel them in. Instead, I let them run free, hoping that if I allow this, maybe I can shut them off and get back to work. I'll feel better if I can dosomethingproductive.
But my rampant mind is interrupted a short moment later by a commotion in the office.
"Excuse me, sir, you can't go back there," our receptionist says so loudly I can hear her all the way in here.
Has Ricardo shown up at my work in order to prove some point that he's in charge? That he calls the shots and if I don't follow along, he'll disrupt my life until I do?
I hold my breath and wonder if I stay still enough, maybe I will turn invisible, and no one will find me. But that never worked when I was a kid, so I don't know why it would now, either.
A large figure barrels into the break room, and his sights immediately lock onto me.
"Cora," Silver breathes, his shoulders relaxing a bit.
I kick off the wall I was leaning against. "Silver, hey, what are you doing here?"
He rushes over, his hands finding both of my shoulders and his gaze trailing over me. "I got home and was worried something happened. I thought you'd still be there."
