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What?
“I’m sorry, I don’t understand.” I lean forward, like an old lady who’s not sure she heard right. “If you’ll be doing less and be away from the office a lot, won’t you need me to help you more? Handle some of your tasks? Expand my role?”
“I’ll be passing off some work to the COO, CFO, CMO. So there won’t be as much for you to do.”
My burning excitement turns to freezing fear. This is the exact opposite of what I wanted. Am I about to be fired?
“But you’ll still need me, though, right? If you’re working from upstate more, you’ll need me to take care of at least some things here for you.” I grip the undersides of my thighs. Never mind weeping with joy, I now need to stop myself from just generally weeping. “You’ll still have meetings that need scheduling, contracts to deal with, people who need fending off.”
Christ, I’ve gone from the brink of promotion to scrambling to keep the job I already have.
“I will still need you, yes.”
I blow out a breath louder than I intended. The last thing I want is for Max to see me as desperate.
It’s hard to hide, though. I don’t only want to climb the corporate ladder and eventually become an executive. I want to do it here. The last thing I want is to leave Harvest—even if I could find a company to buy out my tuition. This place has more opportunities for me to grow than anywhere I could wish to work.
Max picks up one of the instant-drying rollerball gel pens I make him use to sign documents and jiggles it between his index and middle fingers. “But I’ll need to scale back your hours.”
My hands fly out from under my legs. “You’re making me part-time? No, Max, no. Please, no.”
Pleading is not very professional. Or becoming. Or a sign I’d be an awesome project manager.
“Oh, you’ll still be full-time. You’d just work only half your hours for me.” He leans back, now rolling the pen between his palms. “I’ll loan you out for the rest of them. Your salary won’t change, nor your benefits. Don’t worry. I appreciate your hard work and dedication.”
That’s all well and good but my brain is stuck on just one part of all that. “Loan me out?”
“Yes.” Max sits up straight again, brighter, more animated, and smiling like he’s had the most fantastic idea. “And let’s start with Elliot. You were right about him. He’s in a bit of a state. No one needs your skills more right now than he does.”
My body heats as a swirl of conflicting emotions rises within me, each one trying to race to the top. It’s hard to tell which is winning—disappointment, insult, hurt, or the dozen others I can’t quite identify.
“You’re going to lend me to Elliot? Like I’m a…” I cast my eyes around his desk. “A pen or a mug or a… a…” I point at the thing I’m sitting on. “A chair?”
“No. Like you’re one of my most vital and valuable resources. You’re the most efficient and organized person any of us has ever met. And if anyone can help him pull the First Byte launch together on time it’s you.”
I suppose that’s something of a compliment. “He did seem a bit frazzled.”
“Hardly surprising. If the launch isn’t ready to happen on the day Netto demanded, they’ll lose the sponsorship. Greta was coordinating it with the center manager. But Greta’s out now with some broken limbs.”
“With what?” I have no right to self-pity if Greta’s injured and needs help. “Broken limbs? Plural? Like she’s broken more than one of them?”
“Yes. Elliot did tell me which ones, but I forgot. Something to do with a mountain and Colorado.”
“Shit, Max. Is she okay?”
“Well, not as okay as if none of her limbs were broken, but Elliot says she’ll be fine. She just can’t work for a few weeks. So he needs extra help.”
“Did he say that? Did he specifically ask for me to help him?” I have no idea where that question came from. It just blurted out, as if Elliot saying he needed me was important. Like it might make this whole situation a little less bad.
“No. Didn’t mention it at all. It’s my idea. You are my gift to my little brother.”
Okay, now he’s crossed a line. The line that cranks up the gas and sends my blood from simmering to boiling.
“Well, why don’t you wrap me up with a ribbon and stick a bow on my head while you’re at it?” Tears prickle behind my eyelids. “I’m not a possession to be passed around your family. It’s not even the same company. Two Coast Tech is an entirely different business. A smaller business.” I dig my nails into my palms to stave off the embarrassment of crying. “This isn’t only not the promotion I wanted, that I deserve, it’s not even a lateral move. It’s a step backward.”
“It’s temporary, Charlotte.” Now there’s a hint of impatience in his voice. “Just for a few weeks.” He shrugs in a what’s-the-big-deal kind of way. “We’ll sort out something else after that.”
“Find someone else to gift me to, you mean?”
