“Yes. And whatever she says goes. She’s amazing. You’ll never meet anyone like her. She’s a genius.”
A sick feeling weaves its way through me. Hearing that Mr. Lancaster’s wife is perfect brings back old feelings I don’t want. The idea of him comparing me to her makes bile rise in my mouth. Is that why he stopped us? Did he kiss me because he was drunk and then realized I wasn’t as perfect as his wife? I feel ill, but I don’t want Paige noticing, so I give a tight smile and nod before changing the topic. “Can I get my work card? It’s time for lunch.”
“Of course. I can’t believe I forgot. Let me print one out for you. It has a special barcode so you can’t get them reprinted outside. Yours will be unique to everyone else’s. They scan it at the staff restaurant to make sure you only use it once a day. It has a price limit, but it’s quite high, so I doubt you’ll ever reach it.”
Perks. At least working for this asshole has some perks. “You don’t know how much I like to eat,” I force out.
Paige laughs, and my sour mood starts to lighten. “A woman after my own heart.” She presses some buttons and stands. “Okay, here we go. If you’re looking for suggestions, the pulled pork toasted sandwich is a winner.”
“Thank you. I’ll give it a try.” I smile while walking backward out the door, finally feeling more like myself. “See you around.”
I make my way downstairs to the restaurant that’s designated for the staff and place my bag down on an unoccupied table. The place is busy. It’s a cafeteria-style restaurant, so I head to the counter and order the pulled pork sandwich and a cappuccino. Once it’s placed on my tray, I head back over to my table and sit down to watch the crowd around me. I’ve always been a bit of a people watcher. I love to concoct my own stories of what’s going on in other people’s lives. Also, not knowing anyone who works here, it’s a great way to pass the time. As I go to take a bite of my sandwich, a familiar figure smiles and walks up to me. It’s good to see Jared, and I relax into my seat at the idea of not being alone.
“Mind if I join you?”
I smile. “Of course not.”
He places his own tray down and smiles. “So, first day. What did you order?” He glances over at my food.
“The pulled pork sandwich. Paige said it’s amazing.”
“Paige is right.” He winks, and I peek at his tray.
I laugh. “We ordered the same thing.”
“We clearly have good taste.”
I take a bite and grin. “Whoa. This is amazing.”
“This place has one of the best chefs in the city. His name is Porter Brown, but everyone calls him Portobello. They like to fuck with him.”
I giggle. “Nice, I won’t forget that one.”
“So, how’s the first day going?”
“It’s . . . going.” I wish it was flying. Or better yet—over.
He tilts his head. “Where did you end up?”
“I actually ended up in corporate. I’m with Mr. Lancaster.”
“No shit.” He chuckles. “I’ve never even met him. Word around town is he’s impossible to work for. He’s been through three assistants this month alone. Apparently, he’s very private. Never shows up to anything. Likes to sit in his penthouse office looking down his nose at us commoners.” He shakes his head.
“Yeah . . . he’s a peach,” I groan. “Can’t say the rumors aren’t true.”
“Wow, that sucks. It’ll be excellent experience, though.”
I reach for my mug and take a sip of my cappuccino, which is delicious, and shake my head. “If I can tolerate him long enough. He’s not the friendliest guy in the world.”
Jared laughs. “Yeah, I’ve heard stories. In business, he’s a shark, and in his personal life . . . well, talking about his personal life will get you fired.”
“Are people scared of him?”
“Absolutely. But that doesn’t mean you have to be.”
“Oh, I’m not scared of him. I just don’t particularly like him.”
Jared laughs. “Stick it out, and you’ll have your pick of jobs.”
“I’ll do my best.”
We spend the rest of lunch talking about all other aspects of The L. Jared seems to genuinely like his job, which is something.
After lunch, I return to the office in a better mood. Jared is a good guy, and I enjoyed his company. I’m feeling light and happy for a change until the moment I see Grant again. My bad mood returns instantly. He looks up at me, his gaze steely, then he looks down at his watch. I wasn’t even gone an hour. I place my hand on my hip and wait for him to say something.
“Good lunch?” The sarcastic bite isn’t lost on me. He acts as if going to lunch is something I shouldn’t be doing.
“Yeah, it was delicious. Did you eat?” My retort is heavy on my tongue.
“I’m too busy.”
“I would’ve brought you something. I can go now.” I desperately want to get away from here and his temper.
“No, we have work to do,” he says. “I can’t have you sitting there all day. I’m going to set you up in the office across the hall with your own computer. I’ll have a list of work for you to get through.”
I’m relieved. I’ve been scared I’d somehow end up in his office, right in front of him. That would have been horrific.
The goddamn weekend is finally here. I barely made it through the week with having Bridget as my assistant. Lucky for me, I gave her so much work she barely had time to breathe, let alone seek me out. You’d think after the hell I’ve been through, I’d be excited to be home, but right now thinking about seeing Chelsea I dread it even more than I dread seeing Bridget at work. But I’m home, so I should probably walk in instead of dragging my feet. There’s no way around it. Seeing Chelsea is a necessary evil. Isabella is in there, and she needs her father as much as I need her.
“Baby, you’re making me hot,” Chelsea’s voice croons into her phone. “Say it again.”
I peak around the corner to see Chelsea laid back on the couch picking at her nails. If her head were turned toward me, I’d probably see her rolling her eyes at whoever is on the other line. Chelsea hates phone sex or any sort of foreplay at all. She’s just a big fucking tease, and my guess is she’s got the poor sucker on the other line eating out of the palm of her hand. I know too well how easily one can be taken by Chelsea’s games. Poor bastard. I’m just glad she’s not my problem anymore.
She’s your biggest problem.
I cringe at the truth in those words.
Striding toward my whore of a wife, I stop dead in my tracks when I see our daughter playing at her feet, listening to every fucking horrible word her mother utters. My blood heats in anger.
“You want me, come get me,” Chelsea says, scrunching her nose in disgust at her own words. She looks up at me, unfazed at being caught in the act. “Baby, I’ve got to run,” she says while looking me straight in the eye.
The fucking nerve of this woman.
“I’m sorry. You go take care of that and think of me.” She grins at me as though I give a shit about her games. I don’t. I couldn’t care less about whatever guy she’s fucking behind my back now. It’s the fact that she’s doing it in front of our daughter that has me livid.