*
I’m still tryingto wrap my head around the events of this morning when Farrah appears at my desk looking as cross as usual. Honestly, I’m surprised she didn’t come harass mesooner. Being in other people’s business is one of her favorite pastimes.
“What, Farrah?” I ask tiredly, rubbing my eyes. My work phone and cell have both been going off nonstop all day, and the only person I’ve willingly spoken to is Kourtney because I know she’d come here if I didn’t.
She sits on the edge of my desk and puts her hands in her lap. “How does it feel to be the favorite? If any of us pulled the shit you did, we’d be gone quicker than you can blink.”
I knew this was coming. “Can we not do this right now?”
“Oh, are you busy?” she asks, studying my blank computer screen. “You’ve been working ononecase, and I’m sure it’s not a hard one considering you’re fucking the only client you have. That’s bound to get you some deadline extensions.”
I swipe my palms down my face and take a deep breath. In my wildest fantasies, where I have no consequences for any of my actions, I kick her really hard. Maybe even borrow one of her pointy heels to do it. But that’s bound to get me a first-class ticket to the unemployment line, so I bury that temptation deep, deep down.
“What? Cat got your tongue?” she muses, pulling out her phone and scrolling through something. She laughs, but it’s dry. Then she shows me an image of me cradling Oreo at the food bank. “This cat, perhaps? Looking a little too cozy, Winter.”
I roll my eyes. “That was at a work event. He brought his cat. You would have done the same thing.”
All she says is, “I hate cats.”
Somehow, that doesn’t surprise me. I’m sure the second she tried reaching out to Oreo, the feline would hiss and bat her hand away just like she did with Kayleigh.
My shoulders slump. Why do I miss Oreo right now? I could use some warm cuddles and rumbling purrs.
“I don’t know what sob story you told to Janel to let her keep you, but it’s not going to work on the rest of us. Your woe-is-me tale doesn’t make you any more important than the rest of us. You aren’t owed opportunities because you were orphaned as a kid.”
I pale at the harsh words spoken to me. “How did you…?” I stop myself, already knowing the answer.
When I pick up my phone, I scroll through all the alerts and images being sent to me. Including the article deep-diving into the life of Thomas Moskins’ new lover.
I’d gag if I had the energy, but I don’t.
My shoulders slump as I scan the article, wincing when I see the timeline some amateur reporter put together. Some of it is painfully accurate, while other pieces are disgustingly wrong. And the worst part of it all? They name my sister.
I slam my phone down onto my desk. “Can you please go? I’m sure you’ve said everything you want to now.”
“Hardly,” Farrah spits. “In fact—”
“Go,” a man says.
My spine tingles at the familiarity of those words spoken so firmly that I can’t help but pick my head up. I have déjà vu, picturing Cody standing where Farrah is while Thomas stands there stick-straight and glaring at my coworker.
And behind him is Ashton.
“Shocking. Your protector has arrived,” Farrah murmurs, standing up and flattening out the wrinkles from her pencil skirt. She gives Thomas a once-over. “It’s a shame, honestly. You’re wasting so much time on someone who doesn’t know the difference between Prada and Walmart.”
Ashton’s hand wraps around Thomas’s arm to stop him from stepping toward the mean girl, who has never really liked me that much. At least she was better at hiding it before.
“It’s best if you walk away,” Ashton suggests dryly. “For your sake.”
Farrah’s eyebrows lift. “Is that a threat?”
“No.” That comes from Thomas. “It’s a promise.”
She scoffs as she starts walking out of my cubicle, purposefully brushing against Thomas’s side in the process. “I guess all men have a savior complex. A real rags-to-riches story.”
Thomas leans down to her and, through gritted teeth, says, “I’m no Prince Charming.”
Farrah snorts. “That much is obvious.”
