I reach to grab her phone, my eyes dropping to the screen. Email after email written by me to my agent and vice versafloods the screen. Details about my contracts, my future projects and my ongoing complaints about my editor and my contact at the publisher are on full display.
"What the hell?" I mutter under my breath. "Who the fuck is doing this?"
"You know who." Cheyenne yanks her phone from my hands. "I'm not pushing the meeting with the attorney back again, Nick. We're going down there now. Your lover is determined to ruin your life and if you don't put a stop to it, I will."
I curse under my breath. "Fine. I'll meet with him but Sophia's not responsible for these emails. There's no way in hell she'd do this. She didn't do any of this. She's not the one trying to ruin my life."
I absorb my own words as I grab my coat. I'm the one who ruined the best thing that ever happened to me and right now I don't give a shit about anything but talking to Sophia.
CHAPTER FOUR
Sophia
I exitthe elevator and I'm instantly taken aback by what my old desk looks like. It's covered in file folders, one stained with what looks like coffee. Mr. Foster's temp has called me more than a dozen times already today. It's obvious that she's overwhelmed with the job.
"Nancy," I call out to her as I approach since she's bent over retrieving something from the floor. "Tell me what you need from me."
She jumps in surprise, smashing the back of her head on the corner of the desk.
I cringe as I lunge forward to help, but she's already on her feet, her hand rubbing what must be a tender spot hidden under her red hair. "Sophia, you came."
Of course, I did. Sasha told me that until I sign my contract, I’m technically still Mr. Foster’s assistant, so I’m on call for whatever Nancy needs until the permanent replacement starts next week.
When Nancy called my cell less than five minutes ago to tell me she urgently needed to see me, I tucked my sketchbook into a drawer on my new workstation, and I headed straight for the elevator.
"What can I do for you?" I ask cheerily. She's probably had to deal with Mr. Foster's less than friendly demeanor all day. I know he's frustrated. He said as much in a text message he sent me yesterday telling me he was considering asking Sasha to fire me so he could rehire me.
"It's not me this time." She smiles. "Mr. Foster asked me to find you so he could talk to you."
I glance at the closed door of his office. "He wants to see me?"
"As soon as possible." She pushes on my shoulder. "That means now, Sophia, so get in there."
I laugh nervously. He's already asked me once if I'll be signing the contract for my new position with the design department. I told him I was waiting to get it back from my attorney, which I am. If he brings it up again today, I may need to ask Zoe Beck to put my file at the top of her priority list. I haven't given it as much thought as I should have. I've been replaying what happened with Nicholas in my mind over and over again. I still haven't heard from him or the attorney he threatened me with. I don't know whether that's a good or bad sign.
"Did he say what it was about?"
"Like he'd tell me," she jokes. "All I hear about all day is what a great assistant he had. If I had to wager a guess, it would be that he's going to offer you your old job back. If he does, I think you should take it and start right now."
"Funny." My grin is wide. "I'll go talk to him but you should know that you're stuck here until your replacement shows up next week."
"Damn." She winks. "In that case, it's time for my coffee break."
"Hasyour attorney had a chance to look over the contract yet, Sophia?" Mr. Foster asks as I take a seat. "I'm impressed that you didn't sign it on the spot. It's always prudent to have a professional go over any legal document line-by-line."
I can't argue that point. The wording of the contract went right over my head. It's much more complicated than the standard salary based contract I signed when I started working as his executive assistant. The design contract has strict stipulations regarding how I share my designs and an allowance for travel in the event my pieces are featured in a fashion show.
"I think I should have it back soon, sir. I'll sign it then."
"I'd rather you didn't." He taps his fingers on a large yellow envelope in the center of his desk. "I had a new contract drawn up earlier today. This offer replaces the original one."
Shit.I took too long to sign and now Mr. Foster is pulling back on his offer. That has to be what this is. He may be a great boss, but the man is still a ruthless shark.
"The other contract seemed very fair." I scratch the back of my head. "I'll call my attorney today and see if I can have it signed by tomorrow."
"No." He opens the envelope and draws out a stack of papers. "That offer is no longer on the table. I think you'll find this one benefits you more."
Benefits me more? I hope I get a meal allowance like Sasha does. That woman wasn't the same today when she returned from her two hour long lunch. One of the other designers told me that Sasha dines on the company's dime, which alwaysincludes a substantial amount just for several glasses of a good red wine. I could go for a glass or two myself right at this moment.
