Just as I open my mouth to answer again, Park speaks.
“I would say our working relationship is good. We’ve been co-operatives on and off for six years. Our communication and problem-solving skills are exceptional. Just look at what we accomplished the last few days with very little help and resources.”
Oh.
She was asking about ourworkingrelationship.
I completely misread the room on that one.
I shrink into my seat. “What he said.”
“Let me cut to what I’m really getting at.” Director Pickering sits up. “I want to know if the two of you plan on remaining partners while you’re dating.”
Park eyes me. “Oh, we’re not dating.”
Her brows climb. “You’re not?”
“No.” I shake my head. “Ever since Christmas day, we’ve been strictly professional.”
Much to my dismay.
Park turns his head to me. “Well, you made rules and said at the pier that we were sticking to them.”
“No, it was a question.” I glance at him. “Iaskedif you wanted to stick to the rules, and you’re the one who said you did.”
“So,” Park’s brows drop, “are you saying youdon’twant to stick to the rules?”
“I’ll follow them if you are.”
Sharon Pickering interrupts.“Do you see a master's degree certificate on my wall or a leather couch in my office?”
We both shift our gazes to her. To be honest, I forgot she was here.
“No,” we answer in unison.
“That’s because I’m not your counselor or therapist. I don’t talk through people’s love lives or give out relationship advice. I’m the Director of National Intelligence for the United States of America. I don’t have time to listen to you while you figure out your relationship problems.”
I open my mouth to speak. “We—”
Director Pickering holds her hand up, stopping me. “I don’t want to hear anymore.” She leans forward and picks up a pen, signing something on the paper in front of her. “It’s clear you two can’t work together anymore. In fact, I’m surprised you even made it through your poorly planned out, low-budget scheme against Todd Allen.” She glances up, pausing her pen strokes. “And just to remind you both again, using innocent civilians in a CIA mission—especially elderly ones with dementia—is extremely dangerous and inappropriate and should never happen again.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Park nods.
Director Pickering grabs the paper on her desk and hands it to Park. “This isa reassignment notification effective immediately. You’ll no longer work as co-operatives.”
Reassignment notification?
That’s not what I wanted. But Park doesn’t say anything or protest about the change, so I don’t either.
Director Pickering looks down at a file on her desk. “You’re both dismissed.”
I stand, darting my gaze to Park before I turn and walk out of the room.
I haven’t been communicating what I really want. And what I really want ishim,but for some reason, telling him that seems like the scariest thing in my entire life.
Why is rejection more intimidating than staring down the barrel of a gun or being outnumbered in a fight by highly trained assassins?
Maybe it’s because my feelings for Park are more real than anything I’ve ever experienced in my entire life. There isn’t a mission to hide behind or a scheme I’m running.
