Negroni, Please
SLOANE
I’m so over it.
My day had started with a Sausage McMuffin and a shot of Hi-C orange with date-number-five, who’d chosen McDonald’s because he was a recovering addict and liked to stay away from bars. Unfortunately, I’d caught the guy watching porn on his phone when I’d returned from the restroom. I’d hightailed it out of the restaurant and promptly sent a text to Blake to let her know that Lennox could no longer participate in any matchmaking duties. Full stop.
By the time I made it to Starbucks, I was convinced their little Hook Sloane Up Plan was doomed. And I couldn’t understand why I felt happyanddisappointed. While standing in line, I checked my email, pleased when I received a thumbs up for my latest design. I responded with a request for an in-person meeting to go over timelines.
Christmas music played on the overhead speaker, and I found myself swaying to the tune. It wasn’t the first time I’d felt all warm and fuzzy and merry this week either. At my parents, I’d helped my nephew decorate a gingerbread house. Yesterday, I sang along to Boyz II Men’s “Let It Snow” at my office. I even agreed to go to Holiday Nights in Greenfield Village with my family. My first visit to the museum had been quite the experience. We’d spent hours exploring, visiting the historic districts, enjoying the rides. I’d even put on skates and snapped a selfie before I wiped out on the ice.
After I placed my order, I took a seat at a booth near the door. Date-number-six should arrive in the next half an hour. Until then, I decided to work. I’d just put the finishing touches on another floor plan when I heard a familiar voice call my name.
“Sloane?”
I rolled my eyes. The last person I expected or even wanted to see was Hyram Covington. But there he was, standing in front of me. “What the hell do you want?” I asked.
Hyram sighed. “Your assistant told me I could find you here.”
It had been five days since he’d fired me via memo, and I was still salty about it. “What do you want?” I repeated.
He slid into the seat across from me. “We need to talk.”
I sipped my peppermint mocha and waited. When he didn’t say anything, I did. “Well? You said we needed to talk. Say something.”
He cleared his throat. “This isn’t easy for me, but I wanted to apologize to you.”
I leaned back in my chair, crossing my legs at the knee. “What for?”
“I was angry.” His gaze darted from me to the table to my breasts to the wall, then back to me. “Hurt, really. I was wrong for lashing out at you. What happened between us should never affect work.”
I studied him. It was no secret that Hyram wielded power in the Covington Corporation because his father owned the company. People talked and he had a reputation for being a fuck-up, plain and simple. The only thing he had going for him was his name. And he was hot. But that’s it. I hadn’t spent much time with him, but it was clear to me that he was more cocky than sincere. The little display he’d put on, the attempt to show regret, his tone of voice told me he’d done this out of necessity, not because he truly wanted to make things right.
“Your father sent you?” I asked.
He crossed his hands on the table. “He suggested I contact you, yes.”
“Thanks for the apology, but you can kiss my ass.”
“The company would like to offer you the agreed-upon contract. We’re willing to up your fee by ten percent, for your inconvenience.”
My father once told me that all money wasn’t good money. I’d learned that lesson time and again through the years—in my marriage and at work. My ex-husband offered to pay alimony if I allowed him to slip in my bed every once in a while. Inappropriate touches, uncomfortable stares, and even veiled threats had colored my corporate work experience. And when I left my husband, I’d quit my job to start my own company.
I contemplated the offer for a few more minutes. The reasons to take the job outweighed my petty need to tell Hyram to go fuck himself. Still, I couldn’t bring myself to accept. “I don’t think so, Hyram.”
He frowned, scratching his jaw. “What? You’re turning me down?”
“Exactly.”
“Not even for fifteen percent above the proposed amount?”
As tempting as it was, I couldn’t do it. “No. You’ve already proven that you’re an entitled prick. I won’t work with someone who throws temper tantrums when they can’t get their way. I will not let anyone treat me the way you did and get away with it. Period. And don’t worry about telling your father what I said because I’ll tell him myself. It’s better he hears it from me because I don’t trust you to do the right thing.”
He snickered. “Wow. You’re walking away from money and connections because I dumped you?”
“You know I don’t give a damn about you. That’s why you ‘dumped’ me,” I threw up the quote sign because I would never classify what we had as something that had to be dumped, “right? So take that shit somewhere else.”
Hyram’s jaw ticked as annoyance washed over his face. But he knew better than to continue this conversation in the middle of Starbucks. He nearly tipped the chair over in his haste to stand. “I hope you don’t regret this, Sloane.”
