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She would just go home and by Sunday, her biggest concerns would be dealt with.
She took a deep breath and strode past the rows of cubicles on her way back to the elevator. Luckily, most everyone was still in a mid-morning meeting, so nobody was around to spot her.
Yep, the place was totally silent save for the giggling of the secretaries in the break room.
As she walked past, though, she caught a snatch of conversation and froze in her tracks.
"I always suspected with their late nights and their early mornings that something was happening, but it has never been so clear before." One of the girls was whispering.
"Stop it, Millie. Garret isn't Brooks. He'd never sleep with an employee without it actually meaning something."
"Yeah, maybe that explains it. She's hardly here for a year and she's promoted three times? The only people I know who work the ladder that quickly are usually working something else."
She should leave. It couldn’t possibly help to listen to the rest of this petty gossip. And that's exactly what it was. Petty gossip. It didn't mean anything at all.
So why couldn't she move?
"Some women are just like that. They cheat and steal and use their bodies to get what they want. It's a shame for all of us—it makes us
all look like sluts." The voice which apparently belonged to Millie tsked.
A new voice chimed in. "I've been trying to get details out of Natalie for weeks. Even after the memo went out, she hasn’t changed her tune."
"That much I believe." Millie laughed.
"What can you expect? The sluts stick together. It's in their code or something." Another woman hissed.
Anger roiled in Rachael's stomach. That was enough.
It was one thing to talk about her and Garret. They could call her whatever they wanted and disregard all the work she did to get to her place in the company.
But Natalie?
She deserved better than that.
Squaring her shoulders, Rachael stepped around the corner and walked into the break room, trying her best to remain as casual as possible.
"Good morning, ladies." She grinned like they'd all just shouted compliments at her, and then beamed even wider when she spotted the shocked discomfort on their faces.
"How's the coffee today?" she asked, ignoring the pointed silence as she picked up the carafe.
She poured a cup, fixed it, and then took a sip. She could practically hear the gears in their mind whirring, questioning how much she'd heard or if she'd heard anything at all.
"It's a little bitter, I think," she said casually, then poured it down the drain and left her mug in the sink. "Would one of you mind getting that for me? Thanks so much." And with that, she strode from the room, all too aware of their eyes on her retreating back.
It was the perfect exit. So smooth and suave and classy.
Or, at least, it would have been if she hadn’t run straight into Garret’s huge, muscular chest on her way out of the kitchen
He caught her wrist, then released it, his dark eyes widening as he took her in. “Rachael. You were supposed to be—“
“I am. I had a question for you, but it can wait.”
“I have time,” he smiled at her and her stomach twisted.
Wasn’t it bad enough that she had to worry about the contents of that stupid folder? Now he had to look so…so happy to see her in front of all these snide bitches?
“I really have to be going. I’ve got to get to the florist and—“
