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I Facetimed Milly during my lunch break—which was a pack of peanut butter crackers I ate at my desk. Milly was rocking a healthy sweat and it looked like she was on some sort of beautiful rooftop tennis court. A pair of handsome guys were volleying in the background behind her while joking about something.
Milly squinted at the phone, leaning a little closer. “Wow. Where are you sitting? Why does it look like you’re sitting in the middle of the room?”
I pulled a face. “Because I am.”
“It’s better than the utility closet though, right? Is he starting to like you?”
“Hardly. I think this is a punishment. I kinda got dirty drunk at the fundraiser. Grant said Damon personally dragged me to the door. That also means he probably saw Luna.”
“You think he put two and two together?”
“No.” Milly knew everything about me, including who Luna’s father was. Even Grant didn’t know that much, and he was nice enough not to pry about it. I lowered my voice a little, even though the majority of the office seemed to prefer to leave work to eat lunch. At least if you didn’t count the peanut muncher from hell, that was. “He thinks he had a condom on, so why would he assume she was his?”
Milly worked her lips to the side, thinking. “Well, what did he say when you came in today?”
“Nothing. I got shown to my fancy new desk and he gave me an assignment that’s going to keep me busy all freaking day.”
“So he’s mad at you.”
“Then he should come say it to my face.”
“Go to his office and ask him about it.”
I popped a cracker in my mouth, then spoke with my mouth partially full. “You’re right. I’m going to give him a piece of my mind.”
“I’ll be expecting the juicy details tonight.” Milly shot me a thumbs up, then ended the call.
I set my phone down, dusted the crumbs off my hands, and headed for Damon’s office.
I opened the door without knocking. His computer was partially visible, and I caught just enough of a glimpse to see him quickly close his internet browser. Before he closed it, I’d seen a picture of myself from my social media page where I was smiling into the camera beside Luna.
“What were you—”
“Knocking. Have you heard of it?”
“That was a picture of me.”
“Congratulations. You can recognize your own face. Do you have any other special talents?”
“Don’t try to bosshole this under the rug. What were you doing?”
Damon turned his chair to face me, then seemed to deflate a little. “Your daughter. I didn’t expect that.”
“And?”
“And you’re my employee. Part of my job is to know my employees. I didn’t want any more surprises.”
“So you stalked my social media.”
“Is her father still in the picture?”
“I’m not obligated to fill you in on my personal life. And the answer is complicated.”
Damon nodded, then motioned to the chair across from his desk. “You can sit, if you like.”
“Oh, I’ve had plenty of sitting for one day. My desk in the center of the office is really comfortable.”
He looked like he was trying not to smile.
“It’s a little sad, you realize that, right? The way you take so much joy in your childish little sleights.”
“When I was a kid,” Damon said. “I used to play this game with Skittles. I’d take out the whole bag and squish them together two at a time. One always squishes the other, while the other stays intact. I’d eat the squished one and test the intact Skittle against the next opponent. Eventually, I’d be left with the strongest Skittle in the bag. I’d save that one and pit it against the next bag I got. Eventually, I found one green Skittle that just wouldn’t break. It tore through everything I threw at it. I became fascinated with trying to crack it. I stopped eating the squished ones and just started getting as many Skittles as I could get my hands on. But it never broke.”
He stopped, as if that was the entire story. “So you were a psychopath when you were a little kid. Is that the moral of the story?”
“No. The moral of the story is that I eventually decided to just eat the green Skittle myself. In the world of Skittles, it was king. But in my world, it was just a snack.”
I frowned at him. “Did you just call me a snack, Mr. Rose?”
If I didn’t know better, I’d say his cheeks took on the faintest shade of red. “I’m…” He swallowed, then waved his hand. “Telling you to get back to work. I expect those figures by tonight. In ascending order. And alphabetized.”
“Your email said descending. And how do I alphabetize a list of numbers, exactly?”
“Do what I say and get back to work, Miss Cross.”
I stood. I was going to kill him. And if he thought he could just squish me until I broke like one of his stupid little Skittles, I’d teach him. And seriously, Skittles? Was a grown ass man really trying to threaten me by comparing me to candy?
