“Too bad the roof deck on our building is condemned. Otherwise we could go up there and have a picnic.”
“We’ll drink on the fire escape.”
“We should just go drink on Mr. Richmond’s terrace.” I spat the name out. “The nerve of him.”
“That’s how men like him are. The beauty is only skin deep.”
I glared across the minimalist office, through the sheet of glass separating his office from us peons.
The coward was on the phone pretending to talk to someone. I knew what he was doing. He couldn’t fool me. When Mr. Richmond was actually talking to someone he paced in front of the window, not stood cross-armed at his desk.
Those green eyes flicked up and met mine.
I stuck my tongue out at him.
He recoiled.
If I had a fairy godmother, I’d, one, ask her for a job where I didn’t have to wear pantyhose, and two, ask her to turn Grayson Richmond into a pumpkin.
Anthym strutted into his office to show him the bust.
“I feel so bad you took the fall for me,” McKenna said as we watched the exchange.
“You can make it up to me by tasting the wine first,” I joked.
Heels clicking on the floor, Anthym headed over to us and handed me the bag.
“You better not be planning on leaving early today.”
“Never,” I said, widening my eyes in what I hoped was an innocent look. “We were just planning on leaving on time.”
“You need to take this to Mr. Richmond’s penthouse. Put it in his study. Then you need to clean.”
“The cleaners were there this morning, and they’re coming tomorrow,” I argued.
“They didn’t do a good enough job. I did a spot check earlier today while I was out,” Anthym replied, nose turned up. “They’re there listening to music while they work. I saw several missedspots on the baseboards. You’re going to fire them tomorrow morning and hire new cleaners.”
I blinked at her. “I can’t fire Mrs. Ortega. She’s going to be heartbroken.” If she knew I was going to be around when she was cleaning, she would bring me extratres lechescakes or other goodies, and she always asked how my parents were doing. “We’re friends; she’s practically my grandmother. I can’t fire my grandmother.” My voice was rising.
“Not my problem. Mr. Richmond wants her gone. Now hurry up. You need to be done before he gets home.”
I’d thought I hated Grayson Richmond before. Now I loathed him.
“He’s a total beast, and he doesn’t even have an enchanted castle or dancing silverware to make him appealing,” I snapped as I packed up. “Fire Mrs. Ortega, who is the sweetest person ever? Mr. Richmond is a villain. He’s Maleficent and Gaston and the evil stepsisters all wrapped up into one horrible package.”
“What are you going to do?” McKenna asked.
I scowled.
“I’m not firing Mrs. Ortega. He can fire me first.”
12
GRAYSON
Iregarded the Marcus Aurelius bust in my study.
The father of Stoicism gazed past me imperiously.
