Confrontation?
Disappointing my father?
Failing?
All of the above.
“No, thank you, sir.” I stirred the tea, careful not to touch the spoon to the side of the teacup before setting it aside and raising it to my lips. For once, I didn’t grimace with the taste, havingadded enough sugar to make my back teeth ache. I watched as he prepared his cup—a dash of cream and one lemon—and sat behind the heavy wooden desk.
The large grandfather clock loomed in the corner of the office, the afternoon light reflecting on the glass from between the thin, sage curtains. With each second that ticked by, my pulse raced, and I crossed and uncrossed my legs, finally putting one ankle over the other. The silence was maddening, deafening, and I wanted to scream at him to just put me out of my misery and fire me so I could go crawling back to my parents, reminding them of what a failure I’d become.
“I suppose I should be the one to tell you the rumors are true, Miss James,” he began, skipping all pleasantries and jumping straight to the point. I appreciated his candidness—if I were to get reprimanded, I’d prefer not to waste time discussing the weather. Unluckily for me, I had no clue what he was talking about.
“The rumors, sir?” I placed the teacup on the saucer and tilted my head, hoping he’d give me at least one more clue so I wouldn’t flounder. He adjusted the cufflinks on each wrist, adorned with the school’s crest, and ran a hand through his artfully styled short, dark hair. My hands went reflexively to my rumpled curls, trying in vain to smooth the untamed frizz since I forwent my diffuser this morning in favor of riding Miller’s dick.
Crass—sure, but making that comment in my head gave me a tiny measure of control over the uncontrollable situation I found myself in. I hated this feeling—the disheartened emotion of not having adequate time to prepare intelligent answers to asked question.
“Yes, the rumors. Mrs. Dawlish is retiring at the end of the year, leaving us with an open Director of Communication position to fill.”
Oh. I wasn’t aware of that rumor, but aside from giving me menial tasks and busywork, Mrs. Dawlish and I barely spoke. Her style had more judging looks and pursed lips than warm, inviting afternoon gab sessions.
“I wasn’t aware of her upcoming plans.”
“No?” he said, arching an eyebrow and sipping his tea.
He gracefully set the cup on the saucer and straightened his Windsor knot, arching a brow as I smoothed down my blouse and felt a light sheen of sweat on my neck.
Was I projecting my dirty thoughts of Miller across his ornately large desk that was,of course,not compensating for anything lacking on his person?Surely, not.
“Well, regardless of whether you are participating in water cooler chatter, she’s leaving, giving you a much sought-after opportunity to obtain a permanent position here at Cresswell.”
If my job as a gopher to every department, running around making copies and fetching tea, was the way to a permanent position, I’d eat his tie.
“The board of directors has brought to my attention that the staff needs an infusion of young blood to keep up with current trends. You’d be an asset to the school with your willingness to assist in all departments and degrees. Everything you’ve done here has not gone unnoticed. Provided you adhere to our moral guidelines, of course.”
Young blood?Moral guidelines?
The way he emphasized those words had my brain working overtime to process the rest of his sentence, and when it managed to catch up, my eyes flicked to his. He smiled, the emotion looking strange but not unpleasant before he tilted his head.
“Is that something you’ve considered, Miss James?”
“Of course, sir,” I stuttered, not reaching for my tea so he wouldn’t see the slight tremble in my fingers. “I’d be honored tobe chosen for a full-time position. I didn’t think an opportunity for continued employment was something I could achieve at this stage.”
“I thought you might say that, but your work ethic reflects your dedication. Don’t sell yourself short, Miss James. However, here at Cresswell, we want a professionally and personally well-rounded staff.”
I nodded, furrowing my eyebrows and hoping he’d explain so I wouldn’t have to vocalize that I had no clue what he was talking about.
“What I mean, of course, Miss James, is we want our staff to thrive outside the classroom by participating in volunteer opportunities—”
“Oh. Yes. I see,” I said, determined to save face from my stuttering and half-finished thoughts. “I help relocate sea turtle eggs during mating season and also—”
He held up his hand, cutting off my sentence as I wiped my hands on my slacks, then reached for the tea to keep from fidgeting, shaking hands be damned.
“Yes. I have no doubt your volunteer efforts are worthwhile. Your father would not have recommended you otherwise. However, Miss James, I was referring to your personal life. Are you currently in a committed relationship?”
Relationship? What does that have to do with my work ethic?
“You must think I’m terribly old-fashioned.”
