Her coworker opened her mouth and closed it quickly.She glanced around as though someone who hadn’t been in on the conversation would rescue her.
When no one came to her aid, her throat bobbed with a swallow, and she met Sydney’s eyes.“There are rumors…”
Folding her arms over her chest, Sydney widened her eyes expectantly and waited for the older woman to continue.
“I don’t believe them.”
Nancy lied through her teeth.Which only irritated Sydney more.
“But some think…”
“Spit it out.”
“I’m not one to gossip.”
Another lie.
“What you do on your own time is your business.”Nancy waved her hand as though she were wiping crumbs off a table.“I respect you for keeping it out of the office.”
Sydney furrowed her brows.“What are you even talking about?”
Nancy bit her bottom lip and once again searched for help.
The stalling got to Sydney.She didn’t have the patience for the bullshit.“Just say it.”
“We all know about your ‘relationship’ with Mitchell.”She had the audacity to use air quotes around the word “relationship.”
“What—” Then the realization hit her, and Sydney blinked repeatedly.She must have misheard her coworker.The woman had to have meant something else.
Nancy picked at her nails and cowered slightly.
“You think I’msleeping withMitchell?”Sydney whispered.
“Not me,” Nancy said but apparently rethought it.“He’s done it before.You’re pretty, young—”
“I’m thirty-one years old,” Sydney interrupted.“I’m not some coed he hired because I have big tits.”
Shaking her head, Sydney rolled her eyes in disgust.Dignifying the rumor with a denial would fall on deaf ears.Nancy, and apparently the rest of her office, believed she was some stupid bimbo who slept her way into her position.
With rage boiling in her veins and smoke practically pluming from her ears, she walked away, crumpling the cup in her hand.There wasn’t enough bourbon at the party for her to deal with this effectively.
She was better than that.How dare they reduce her to merely another piece of ass in Mitchell’s rotation.Well, she wouldn’t stand for it.Fuck all of them.She was a damn good personal assistant.She didn’t need Mitchellor his company.
Her search for new employment had already begun.The pay sucked anyway.Why should she stick around if her colleagues thought so little of her?She could do without them.
She tossed her mangled cup into the trash, exited the conference room, and marched through the hall.Should she type a resignation or just walk out?Fuming, she continued toward the offices.
2
Callum “Fink” Rafferty
MitchellLeonardGrantJr.,the chief executive officer of the worst healthcare company on the planet, was a notorious philanderer, an average golfer, and a cheapskate.He was worth multiple millions of dollars but didn’t pay his bills.
Whether he owed money to the contractors who remodeled his summer home on Long Beach Island or the people whom he denied medical care, Mitchell didn’t give a shit.He hoarded all his bonuses and made partial payments for the drugs he consumed far too frequently.He’d pissed off enough people that his time living high on the hog without consequences had come to its end.
Enter Fink.
A professional in every sense of the word, Fink wore his signature charcoal suit, crisp white-collared shirt, and a narrow black tie as he moseyed his way through the Halloween party.For once, his white Mehron face paint with the large blue ovals around his eyes, the dot on his nose, and the exaggerated smile he’d donned weren’t out of place.Using wash-out blue hair dye, he slicked the hair on the top of his head back.His black contacts matched the microfiber gloves he wore and the paint covering the tattoo on his neck to complete his clownish appearance.
