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To find Vittorio Zanetti’s filmy blue eyes fixed on me.
“It seems silly to ask if I’m interrupting when I so clearly am.”
Shit. I was so riled up that I didn’t even hear him enter. How much did he overhear? Is there any conceivable way to make a conversation about spanking sound like it’s work-related? Just how fucked am I?
I’m sweating head to toe as Dmitri rises to his feet behind his desk. “You’re not interrupting a thing, Vittorio,” he says smoothly. “In fact, I’m just cleaning up in here.”
I turn back to Dmitri, wondering what on earth he’s talking about. Then I catch his expression.
Oh.
“Ms. Turner, you seem to be under the impression that your friendship with my future wife guarantees you immunity within Egorov Industries. Let me clarify one thing for you: you are not indispensable. You are not important. And you are not in any position to talk back to me.” I want to look away from those dark silver eyes but I can’t. “You have exactly ten minutes to pack your things and get out of my sight.”
I flinch back as my jaw drops open. “Y-you’re firing me?”
I probably should have seen this coming, but the truth is, I honestly didn’t. I’m waiting for the wink. Surely there’s a “gotcha” moment coming up, right?
Right?
Dmitri walks around to his desk and throws me a flippant glance. “You thought you could talk to me like that and everything would be fine?”
I swallow hard, trying not to look at the sneering Vittorio, who seems to be getting off on this exchange. “I-I need this job.”
“You have a strange way of showing it.” His voice is devoid of all emotion. Just like his eyes. He dials in a number and picks up his phone. “Aleks, get up here now. I need you to escort Ms. Turner off the property. Make sure you reclaim her lanyard and her security badge before she leaves.”
I take a step towards his desk, but he stops me with nothing but a stare. “Save the pleading for someone it’ll work on. You don’t get second chances with me. Now, get out.”
I bite down on my tongue to keep the tears away. I wish that I could turn back time and demand a do-over. Quite apart from needing the money, this job is the only reason I get out of the penthouse. Without it, I’m doomed to house arrest for… I don’t even know how long.
I walk out of the office with my head held as high as I can manage. Vittorio’s gaze follows me the whole time. He doesn’t even try to make a secret of it.
I’m practically hyperventilating by the time I reach my desk. I grab my stapler and a box of paper clips before I realize how dumb I’m being.
“Fuck,” I mutter, trying to breathe through the panic.
Dmitri had to have been joking. He was just putting on a show for Vittorio. This firing isn’t actually going to stick.
“Wren?” Aleksandr appears from around the corner, looking concerned. “Everything alright?”
“Um…” My lips quiver and the tongue biting isn’t helping anymore. A tear springs free. “He f-fired me.”
He looks just as shocked as I feel. He glances at the door and exhales sharply. “Let’s just get you home, okay?”
“V-V-Vittorio is in there with him.”
He nods. “I know. I saw him enter the building. Come on.” He gestures for me to walk over to him, but I just look at my desk helplessly. “My things… He told me to clear out my… my…”
“I’ll handle that for you later, don’t you worry.” His tone is just gentle enough that I set down the office supplies, grab my purse, and follow him down the hall towards the elevators.
Spanked and fired in the same week. This has to be some kind of a joke.
As we ride down to the ground floor, Aleksandr eyes me warily. “It was just a fight,” I whisper in a small voice.
He sighs. “Wren, no one fights with the boss.”
I used to believe that. But that was before. Before I knew that he liked classical music and vodka. Before I knew he liked to wake up at the crack of dawn to use the gym. Before I knew he was a great chef who made the butteriest French toast I’ve ever put in my mouth.
For me, life is now divided into two swaths of time. B.D.—before Dmitri, when he was just my bosshole. And A.D.—after Dmitri, when he transformed into my nightmare of a baby daddy.
