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Not exactly? I remove my feet from his desk. “You hired someone without my counsel?” I sound as hurt as I’m feeling. He’s broken a cardinal rule of our business practice. What the fuck is he playing at? I’m not buying his lame-arse excuse—the crap about it being his PA, so my input isn’t needed. Fuck that. “When I hired Gina, I had you by my side throughout the whole process. I didn’t make a decision without consulting you first. What the fuck, Sal?”
“That’s only because you needed someone to tell you what her qualities were past her great tits.”
I shoot forward in my chair, offended. “She’s the best PA out there. The tits are just a bonus.” I try to talk my tense muscles down. “As are the arse and hips. Besides, she’s loyal to a fault.” I literally couldn’t live without that woman, and part of me knows she couldn’t live without me. She loves mothering me. Takes great satisfaction in feeling so needed. She’s one hundred percent committed to her job, sometimes to a fault, but I’ve always looked after her financially, and looked out for her, too. She’s single, though I have no idea why. Or maybe I do. My Gina’s a catch, but she has fire in her belly. Most men can’t handle her. Most men, except me. I handle her, just as well as she handles me. We’re made for each other, in a platonic way, of course. In fact, I would go as far as to say she’s probably one of my best friends. There’s not many people out there that know me as well as she does. “Gina is attentive, prompt, and thorough. She’s the best PA out there.”
“We didn’t know all of that when we hired her,” Sal says.
“Exactly.” I raise and point an accusing finger at him. “We. When we hired her.”
“Stop overreacting. I’ve hired a new PA. That’s all. She was assistant to some political bloke. Did a stellar job according to her reference. If I didn’t move fast, someone else would have snapped her up in no time.”
“What, before you took an hour to consult with me on it? I thought patience was one of your best qualities.”
“My best quality is my talent and how it gets us new business.”
“I get new business, too.” I sound as indignant as I feel.
“Yeah, on your sexual talent.”
“It’s still a talent, and it still gets us business. Are you saying I’m the dick behind Christianson Walker, and you’re the brains?”
“Not at all,” Sal argues. “You have a brain, Ty. But you keep it in your dick and do all the thinking from there.”
I scoff and get up from my chair. “I’m pissed off with you,” I grumble, storming away.
“Does that mean no play time?” Sal calls.
“I have some thinking to do,” I quip, turning at the door and grabbing my crotch, giving Sal an eyeful as I thrust it on a snarl. “Join me and watch the talent unfold.” I slam the door behind me and run my hands through my hair in frustration. “He hired someone without me,” I bark at a temp as she wanders past with a tray of teas, making her startle and spill some. I growl under my breath. “Sorry,” I grumble, heading back to my office. Gina gives me wary eyes when she clocks me stamping toward her. “Did you know about this?” I snap.
She doesn’t even flinch. “About what?” she asks tiredly.
I huff and let myself into my office. Of course she didn’t know. I meant what I said earlier; she’s loyal to a fault. There’s no way she’d keep me in the dark if she knew anything, and Gina knows a lot. Which means Sal has slipped under her radar with this, too, the sly son of a bitch.I stroll into The Savoy, still seething from my confrontation with Sal earlier. I’ve hardly done a thing since that meeting, not being able to focus on anything except the fact that he made a decision without me. In all the years of business together, it’s never happened. It doesn’t matter that I trust him, or that I know he’s been drowning for three months without a PA. He’s broken one of our only rules, gone behind my back, and I can’t for the life of me figure out why he’d do that.
My phone dings, and I pull it out as I pass through the foyer on my way to the restaurant.
Are you still taking me out? Sal xxx
I have a half-smile around a curled lip as I reply.
Yes, you fucker. Long Bar at 8. You can swig beer while I kick your short, bald arse. Ty. No love.
“Tyler, my darling.” Mum’s shrill greeting hits me from the side, and I turn to find her virtually running at me. I bend to catch her and brace myself for impact, being winded when her tiny frame crashes into my not-so-tiny frame. “Oh, I’ve missed you so.”
