Who?
Chapter Seven
LOLA
I think about buying booze,but really, I'm not a good drinker. Two drinks and I'm wasted. Besides, I turned down drinks with Ruby because I can't afford two nights out. Even if I didn't buy my drink, and Ruby had my second one last night, I still put money down as a tip.
So, buying a bottle of something means I might as well have gone out with Ruby.
Instead, I sit on my bed in the dark, sipping water, and as the streetlight filters through and a siren fills the night, I sigh and rest my chin on my knees. I let myself finally soak in the events of the day.
It is not the fact that the CEO changed, I'm aware these things happen.
I just still can't believe the new CEO is Enzo flipping Marino, and he is back in my life.
The more I think of it, and of him, the more certain I am that it is no coincidence.
Because what else would he be but an extension of his father's arm?
Enzo stirs up a storm in me.
As a kid, he was my everything: prince, friend, the boy who protected me until...
Until he didn't.
Until our parents fell out and he vanished from my life.
His father was vindictive, and I know he is still alive, so it makes sense he sent his son looking for me.
But why? To wipe me off the planet, too, I imagine. After all, I don't have money. I don't have anything to do with what Dad did for work. I wouldn't even know where to start. And even if I did, I wouldn't want to.
Maybe I should quit. Now that I know how to keep my real name off things, I could do that, couldn't I? The only people who know all my real details are HR. And that stuff is private.
If I quit, I will get something else.
I put my glass on the side table and hug my knees.
The thing is, it took so long to get this job, and I studied for it. New York is big, the perfect place to not be seen.
But he has seen me. So...
I grit my teeth.
So, nothing. I'm not going to quit.
Being unemployed with a degree I don't have much experience with is frightening, and Barwon is a good place.
I'm not letting Enzo Marino chase me away.
Besides, the idea of being unemployed again makes me want to throw up. The market is tight, and I'm untried. So, I need to stick with this job for at least six months.
My breath shudders out of me as I fight the burning pressure in my eyes.
I'm not going to cry.
I refuse to let self-pity take me.
Or grief.
