by Amity Cross
Two weeks and one day after Ryan had kicked me out, I was sitting in my office staring over the city when Juliette came skipping in for our morning power hour. The power hour consisted of working out our game plan for the week, right down to the last detail, and had been a great way to dive back into work after the chaos.
“Hey,” she said, sitting on the chair opposite mine.
Pushing my feet on the ground, my chair swung around, the view of the city disappearing. I’d been having a lovely daydream about hot air ballooning with a handsome fighter…
“Are you feeling okay?” Juliette asked. “You look tired.”
My soul was exhausted. Jade Forsyth, high-flying marketing executive, had resorted to eating two-dollar cheeseburgers—paid for with the last of the change in her purse—and scabbing biscuits from the office kitchen to survive. Then she went home to a budget hotel room that she was certain had mice living in the walls. I just had to ride it out another week, then I would get paid, and I would have a little bit of money to tide me over until Hunter came home, and then I’d get back on track.
“I’m fine,” I replied.
Just as we were about to begin, there was a knock at the door. Seeing it was the CEO of Slattery Press, Charles, my heart did a double backflip, then a fancy twist in the air before a perfect landing. It scored tens across the board.
“Jade,” he said, leaning against the doorjamb. He was in his fifties, had salt-and-pepper hair, broad shoulders, and an air of superiority that had everything to do with him being a man in a suit.
“Charles.”
“When you have a moment, could you come see me?” he asked.
“Once we’re done here, I’ll be right over,” I replied, attempting to sound cheery. “We’ll be about five minutes.”
He nodded once, smiled at Juliette, and then walked away. I watched his retreating back through the glass window as he crossed the office, and my blood began to chill. In all the time I’d worked here, he’d never personally sought me out for a meeting. One of two things was about to happen. I was getting a promotion, or I was getting fired.
“It’ll be fine,” Juliette said, picking up on my distress. “I’m sure it’s just about our video channel. That idea is killer.”
I loved her enthusiasm, but deep down, I knew things were about to end. It was like karma was coming around to bite me in the ass. Karma didn’t know the difference between being blind to your mistakes or knowing what you’d been doing all along. Karma didn’t discriminate. Bitch-slaps for all!
“The top priorities for the week are making sure the cover art is in progress for the Chandler book and the press release is finalized. We need to get it out ASAP so we can get shelf placement in all the big box stores for release week.”
Juliette nodded, scribbling down notes in her journal. “I can call the artist as soon as I get back to my desk and see if he has the final concepts ready for the focus group.”
“Good. We need to get it approved as soon as yesterday.” I glanced across the office, my stomach churning. “After that, you know what to do?”
“Of course.” Her brow furrowed. “But you’ll be here to see it finished. Then we have another release in a fortnight.”
“Sure…” I muttered, rising to my feet.
“Jade—”
“Can you call the artist?” I interrupted. “I better not keep Charles waiting. You know he’s a grump.”
Juliette scurried from my office and returned to her desk, picking up the phone. As I crossed the floor, it felt like I was taking my last walk on the way to the executioner’s block in medieval England. Except, I wasn’t a queen or noble fighting for a just cause—I was a poor little girl who’d lost her way. Now it looked like I was about to lose the last thing that mattered to me.
Peering into the CEO of Slattery Press’s office, I swallowed the vomit that was building in the back of my throat. Where had the ballsy Jade of days gone by disappeared to? The foul-mouthed, confident woman who’d risen to the top of her game at the age of twenty-eight. The woman who’d had inspirational articles written about her in magazines, and who her assistant looked up to as a professional role model. Where had she pissed off to? I needed her right now. I needed her to help me fight.
I knocked softly at the door. “Charles?”
He glanced up from his laptop. When he saw me, his expression gave away nothing.
“Ah, Jade. Have a seat,” he said, gesturing to the empty chair. “How are you feeling?”
Perching gingerly on the plush leather, I raised my eyebrows. “I’m sorry?”
“I thought a break might’ve done you good, so that’s why I bent so easily when you demanded a week to sort out your affairs.” He glanced at me the same way a school principle glanced at a delinquent child. “I’m terribly sorry about your engagement, Jade, but it’s not an excuse.”
“An excuse for what?” I asked, dread beginning to settle in my bones. I practically shook with it, my teeth rattling in my head.
“Things have changed drastically since you came back to work,” he explained. “Quite frankly, I’m disappointed.”
“Disappointed?” I asked, racking my brains to figure out the point where I’d let him down. My work was still impeccable as ever, and last week’s focus group had the best ratings in years. I wasn’t following. “About what?”
“You’re always late, your numbers are down, your attitude leaves a lot to be desired… You’ve changed, Jade, and it’s not for the better.”
His words slammed into me like a freight train, and I felt like throwing up in his wastepaper basket. Always late? I think he meant, always on time. Jackass. Seriously, he was giving me a dressing down for not overworking myself into an early grave? I did more work than anyone here, and my numbers weren’t that dire. Since the whole mess with Ryan, I’d thrown myself into things even more in an attempt to better myself. To become more balanced. I might’ve scaled back to the hours I was paid for, but I hadn’t slowed down.
Slattery Press had been taking advantage of my obsessive work ethic all these years, and now Charles was telling me I wasn’t doing enough? Seriously?
Snorting, I knew if I were a man, I wouldn’t be sitting in this office being told off like I was about to be handed detention. Some way to treat your staff.
“Publishing is cutthroat,” Charles went on, not even noticing how distraught I was becoming. “Any slip could cost us thousands or even millions in the long run. In the current climate, we just cannot afford to lose any momentum.” He picked up the report in front of him and ran his gaze over the numbers.
Fuck his momentum.
“Is this because I refuse to work overtime anymore?” I asked straight up. “If you want me to, you’ll just have to start paying me for it.”
He glanced at me, his eyebrow raising. “This is a prime example in regards to the issue of your attitude, Jade.”
“I do good work here. Some might even say brilliant,” I said, snarling. “And now you’re telling me I need an attitude readjustment? My numbers are down? Don’t you care about your employees’ health and safety?”
“I care a great deal about all those things,” Charles said, giving me a look that said he thought I was just another woman suffering PMS. “Which is why I’m terminating your employment. Effective immediately.”
“You can’t do that,” I exclaimed. “It’s unfair dismissal!”
“I can,” he replied, stone-faced. “It’s in your contract.”
My mouth flapped uselessly. As a wide-eyed University graduate, I would’ve signed just about anything if it meant landing my dream job, and I had.
“Clear out your desk, and hand your security pass to Annabel on the way out.” He pursed his lips and looked down his nose at me. “I hope you find whatever it is you’re looking for.”
20
Ryan
My feet pounded on the treadmill, sweat poured down my back, and my breath came in ragged gasps.
“Dude, you need
to slow down,” Cole said beside me.
“You’re running just as fast,” I replied, my words coming out stilted.
“Yeah, because I’m tryin’ to keep up with you.” He wheezed, then slapped his hand on the controls, easing up on the speed. “You’re going to run yourself into early retirement.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not, and you know it.” He jumped off the end of the treadmill and grabbed his towel. “Fuck, I’m dying.”
“Maybe, maybe not, but training is the only thing that keeps my mind focused,” I said, slowing down to a jog, then to a walk before finally stepping off the end.
“There’s training, and there’s breaking point,” Cole said, slapping me on the shoulder. “I should’ve been able to keep up with you, but you were going at it too hard. Ease up, mate.”
Wiping the sweat from my face, I turned and immediately saw a head of blonde hair across the gym. Great. Just what I fucking needed. I was training hard so I could keep my mind focused and off the fact I was still hard for Jade. Jacking off every night had done nothing to ease the tension in my balls, especially when I always ended up thinking about her. Running, lifting weights, cycling, sparring, and punching the shit out of Cole were just about the only things that keep my mind off the inevitable. The inevitable being me going home alone to a place where I’d feasted on my greatest desire.
“What are you rolling your eyes at?” Cole asked, his lip curling with a sneer.
Nodding across the gym, I drew his attention to where Margaret was lingering. Unfortunately, the motion also attracted her hawk-like gaze toward us like a heat-seeking missile. She never missed a beat, but self-obsessed people never passed an opportunity to be in the spotlight, did they?
“Margaret,” I said. “Remember her from school?”
“That’s Margaret Anastas?” Cole asked, his mouth dropping open. “She got her tits done.”
“Is that all you think about?”
“Tits and pussy,” he replied.
I groaned and shook my head. “She turned up the other day, sniffing around after…”
Cole snorted. “After Jade fucked and ran?”
Narrowing my eyes in warning, I glanced over my shoulder and saw Margaret was approaching for round two.
“Does she think she’s slumming it or something?” Cole went on, talking as loudly as possible. “Is putting a poor man’s dick in her golden vagina the in thing with these people nowadays?”
“Nice to see you again, Alphonso,” Margaret said sweetly. “Still a raging asshole, I see.”
“Still a raging bitch,” he replied, much to my amusement. “If you’re looking for some gold to dig, Toorak is thataway.”
“Please,” she declared. “I know how much professional fighters make, Alphie.”
“Cole,” he said. “My name is Cole. C-o-l-e.”
“If you say so.” Turning to me, she flashed a flirty smile and puffed her tits toward my face. “Hey, Ry.”
“Pfft,” Cole said, hightailing it. “Good luck, mate. Don’t let her golden vagina fool you. There’s barbed wire in there, I’m positive.”
Margaret watched him cross the gym and shook her head. “I can see nothing’s changed where Cole is concerned. He’s still rattling cages?”
“Yeah, though they’re no longer metaphoric ones.”
“He’s training professionally, as well?” Her eyebrows rose.
“Yep.” I reached for my water bottle, popped the lid, and took a swig.
Margaret’s gaze fell to my mouth, and she licked her lips. She wanted a taste, that much was obvious, but I wasn’t really interested in giving it to her. I would probably bend her over, force her ass into the air, and thrust my cock into her pussy from behind just so I didn’t have to look her in the eye. Knowing her, she would film it, then ‘accidentally’ forward the footage to Jade.
Anyway, I wasn’t into empty ejaculation.
“You never used my number,” Margaret said with a pout.
“You were a complete bitch to me in high school,” I shot back. “Why would I ever use your number?”
“That was a long time ago, Ry,” she replied, putting her hands on her hips. “People change.”
Thinking about Jade, I knew not everyone did or wanted to. She had the potential to grow, but I hadn’t seen her want to be a better person. That was the difference between me pursuing her after that night and me walking away for good.
“So?” Margaret asked. “Do you want to hang out sometime?”
“If by hang out you mean, cheat on your husband, then no. I’m not your guy.”
She laughed and shook her head, her blonde ponytail flicking side to side. “You’re hilarious!” she cried. “Justin and I are in an open marriage. I know it might be a foreign concept for some people, but when it comes to him and me, as long as we’re safe, then neither of us has a problem with the other sleeping with whoever they choose.”
I narrowed my eyes, feeling slightly dirty…and not in a good way. “You’re right. It is a foreign concept.”
“Justin and I were forced into our marriage by our families,” she explained. “We don’t love one another, but we take comfort in the fact we have a solid friendship. We give each other security. Financially and emotionally with the pressure from our parents.”
“Wow, the trials and tribulations of rich, trust fund fuckers,” I drawled. “The travesty.”
“That’s a big word,” she retorted. “Know any more? Like cunnilingus?”
“Lick your own pussy, Margaret.”
“I’d much rather you did.” She prowled closer, placing her hand on my chest. “You have my number.”
“You keep reminding me.” I wanted to push her away, but for some reason, I didn’t.
“Call me, anytime. I’ll do anything you want.”
My dick twitched, a couple of compromising positions came to mind, and I immediately hated myself for being tempted by a poor excuse for a human being. Especially when my heart was still tied up in Jade.
“You’re tempted,” Margaret said. Taking out her phone, she opened the camera and held it up. Pouting, she took a selfie with me in the background looking stony faced. If she was going to dip her finger in and get off, it wasn’t a very good picture to do it with.
“Did you fuck Jade?” she asked out of the blue.
“What Jade and I did or did not do is not really any of your business,” I drawled.
“Ugh. I knew it.” She looked me over with unmasked jealousy.
“Listen, I’ve got to go,” I said, backing away. “I’ve got someplace to be.” Total lie but anywhere else was better than right here.
“Remember,” Margaret said, practically purring as I walked away. “Any way you like.”
21
Jade
Sitting across the table from Margaret Anastas, I resisted the urge to hurl.
Saturday brunch at the Langham Hotel was in full swing, and I was currently counting all the places I would rather be than having overpriced high tea with the likes of her. Scraping human excrement off the sides of a treatment pond at the shit farm. Actually, that was the most disgusting thing I could think of, and it still sounded light years better than getting a passive-aggressive grilling from a rich Melbourne socialite.
Imagine what they would say if they found out I’d been fired from Slattery and I was on the verge of financial ruin. Hunting season would be well and truly open for business.
Picking up a pink macaroon from the display in front of me, I squashed the entire thing into my mouth and chewed. Loudly. I was totally skipping out on the bill this week.
“How’s work, Jade?” Margaret asked, flashing me a million megawatt smile.
“Fine,” I said, my voice muffled by meringue. She knew something was off. She could smell chaos and drama like a bloodhound. Her eyes were all twitchy…kind of like mine were right now. Or it could be the sugar. Yeah, it was the sugar.
“Weren’t you wearing
that dress last week?” she asked sweetly, looking me over.
I had on a black and silver Camilla dress I’d bought a few months ago. It was full lace with flesh-colored lining and had a demure and casual look to it but still looked sexy on my figure. It was only five hundred dollars, costing nowhere near the price tag on Margaret’s revolving closet full of Valentino, Dior, and Gucci, but it was still up there.
Why was I even competing? Clothes didn’t mean anything if the person wearing them was vapid.
“It’s a great dress,” I replied. “I feel good in it.”
“How empowering for you,” she declared, her smile never reaching her eyes. To the others, she said, “Did you see what Nancy Longridge put on her Instagram account yesterday? Oh, my God. Everyone knows the only reason she got that job was because she gamed the system.”
I sank back into my seat, retreating into my battered shell as the latest target got dragged across the coals. Nancy Longridge, swimwear designer, had landed a deal of a lifetime with her business. The business that she built and ran herself for years before the other day when someone sat up, took notice, and chose to invest.
“Her designs look like a rip-off of last summer’s Seafolly collection,” Heather said, her lip curling.
“Don’t they?” Margaret said in agreement.
Like a one-piece bathing suit was infringing on someone’s copyright. Nancy’s designs were her own, and her success was well deserved. Jealous rats.
Glancing out the window, that job at the sewerage farm was looking mighty fine. At this rate, I might even supply my own toothbrush so I could get into all those tight little nooks and crannies.
“Can I tell you a secret?” Margaret asked, keeping her voice hushed. “It’s a little naughty…”
“Of course,” Belinda said. “You can tell us anything.”
“No judgment here,” Heather chimed in.
I rolled my eyes, but no one was paying any attention. No judgment? Please, this place was rife with it.
