“I’m sorry? I must have misheard you, Miss James.”
“No, sir. I love working at the academy and would be honored to continue to do so. But I will not continue to sacrifice as I have been.”
“Then I believe we are at an impasse,” he said, rising from the chair and straightening his tie. I stared at him, watching his gaze dart around the room before landing back on me. The look was disheartening—a mix of pity and pride that left a sour taste in my mouth.
“I suppose so. Thank you for popping by.”
He looked unnerved by that comment, tilting his head before taking his pocket watch out and clicking it open. Perhaps it was a nervous tick, giving him time to come up with a response that was equal parts degrading and snarky.
“Miss James?”
I raised my brows, standing and moving back to behind my desk. My cold black coffee called to me, knowing I should refresh the cup, but the thought of leaving the sanctity of my office and walking to the staff room was as unappealing as a lobotomy.
“Sir?”
“I appreciate your candor.”
“Um, thank you?” I said, framing the response as a question because the change in his demeanor caught me off guard.
“The events are not required, and I’ve been thinking for some time the staff should rotate their attendance.”
“It would be nice to see new faces, I suppose,” I said, shrugging before giving in to the temptation of the cold coffee and taking a sip. The bitterness had me pursing my lips, but the jolt of caffeine made up for the taste.
“I look forward to seeing you tonight for your last required after-hours event.”
“Pardon?” I said, setting the cup down. I placed both hands flat on my desk, peering at where he loomed by the door.
“I like your gumption, Miss James. Consider tonight your last event, until I devise a fairer way of delegating responsibility, that is.”
He didn’t give me a chance to respond, let alone process the words before he was out the door. The only thing missing was a sinister black cape billowing behind him and a permanent scowl etched across his features.
Chapter 22
Who did Ianger in a past life to deserve this kind of déjà vu?
Standing alone at a bar, with my thoughts revolving around a man.
I tapped my nails against the polished wood as I waited for another glass of prosecco. Perhaps I should have bailed on this dinner. That would have saved me from the embarrassment of answering awkward questions and staring down Hopkirk. I methis eyes from across the room, and his frown deepened, but I held his gaze. The fear of losing the job evaporated the second I defended Miller—the only thing I regretted was that it took me so long to stand up for myself—and figure out my feelings.
There were too many anxious thoughts swirling around my mind for tonight to be productive. Why did my pea-sized brain believe the best course of action was to be here instead of under my comforter with Minerva and nineties sitcoms? I scoffed at my stupidity, making the bartender quirk his eyebrow and stare at me like I had three heads.
Don’t mind me. Just keep the prosecco coming.
Nope.
The last thing I needed to do was get drunk at a work event. But seriously? What was Hopkirk thinking? Three events over one long weekend? Doesn’t anybody like to sleep in and go to the beach on Saturday? My social life cannot consist of going from hotel to hotel, re-wearing the same five formal dresses because I refuse to buy any more, and shmoozing people to donate to whatever cause was on his radar.
No, thank you.
I’d find a new hobby like goat yoga, stone skipping, or competitive duck herding before I did this every weekend—at least Hopkirk had agreed and given me an out.
“Here you are, Miss,” The bartender placed the drink on a fresh napkin and turned, ready to help the next customer.
“Excuse me?” I said, tapping my heel against the tile floor in time with the music.
“Yes, ma’am?”
“Do you have elderflower liquor?”
