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“Rita, come on, be reasonable. It’s not like this is the first time this has happened,” Bryce pleaded.
My eyes darted to him, wondering what he meant by that. Not the first time? Did he mean with Cooper? Or just in general?
“It’s a done deal. Miss Rand, you are excused. Bryce and I have further business so we won’t be able to walk you out. Brittany will be waiting to escort you.”
“Rita, please, you don’t understand. It was a mistake, and trust me, it will not happen again. Not with anyone! Especially not Coop—Mr. Brighton.”
As soon as the outburst escaped from my mouth, I wished I could take it back. Giving that bitch the satisfaction of watching me beg was only adding to my nausea.
“The decision has been made. You’re done here,” she answered.
I got up and stalked from the room, shooting a final sympathetic glance at Bryce before turning to leave. All I could do was hope that it wasn’t too late for him, and that Rita was just bluffing to get rid of me and hopefully stifle any tantrum.
Brittany was waiting for me outside the door with a stupid smirk on her face. “Please follow me.”
I spun on my heel and glared at her. “Don’t speak to me. I know all about you and Cooper and I have half a mind to go back in there and spill your dirty little secrets. Leave me alone.”
She laughed in my face. “It wouldn’t matter even if you did. I was never stupid enough to get caught on camera,” she hissed back at me.
I was stunned. For a moment it seemed like I had my answer as to who sent the pictures in the first place. It had to be her. How else would she have known of their existence? But then again, she was Rita’s closest assistant, always half a step behind her and probably had access to all of her files and paperwork. She’d probably seen them on Rita’s desk prior to the meeting. I also realized that if she’d been the one trying to get me fired, she wouldn’t have gone out of her way to warn Cooper of what was going on here in the first place. Unless she was just trying to get on his good side. Possibly she wasn’t over him. Maybe she wanted him back.
“Ugh, whatever!” I said out loud, more to myself and my insane mental argument than to her.
She backed off of me and picked up her phone. “Get me security.”
I rolled my eyes. “I’m leaving. You don’t need to call security.”
I couldn’t tell if she was pretending or not, so to be safe, I stormed off to round up my few belonging from my cubicle and then made my way out of the building, openly glaring at anyone who dared to look my way as I flew through the office. There was absolutely no point in trying to blend in, not make waves, or stay inconspicuous anymore. Let them talk. I no longer cared.
Chapter Thirteen
Thirteen hours of sleep—helped along greatly by a bottle of Merlot—started to repair my frayed nerves and I woke up Saturday afternoon feeling a little better. Free, almost. Sure, it sucked that I now had no source of income, but the knot in my stomach feeling that used to hit me every morning before leaving for work was gone. I rolled over in bed and snuggled up closer to the fuzzy ball of Sam next to me. He started purring and I smiled. It was a simple smile but it felt so good. It was the first time I’d felt relaxed in weeks. Just content to be.
My happy bubble popped a few hours later when I finally got out of bed and went into the kitchen to get some breakfast. I was met by the stack of unopened envelopes I had shoved into the corner of my old school, roll top desk. I had repainted it a few years back to match my shabby chic décor. It turned out really nice, but was covered by so much junk mail and scrap papers that you couldn’t really tell anymore.
I ignored it for the time being and grabbed a bagel out of my pantry, and after properly dressing it up with a glob of vegan cream cheese, I parked my ass in front of my laptop to start looking for new jobs. I first went to my email and saw the statement from my final paycheck.
“Ouch,” I said out loud, looking at the small bump it made in my checking account. I had already been overdrawn, so a partial check wasn’t enough to make much difference. I slowly exhaled and clicked out of the website.
Sam came over and hopped into the chair next to me. I reached out my free hand and scratched the top of his head. “Don’t worry, we can still afford kibble.”
He meowed at me in understanding.
I clicked around,
browsing a few popular job search websites. Nothing really stuck out and I started to feel defeated before even really getting started. The only thing on my resume was my coffee shop job, which was great, if that is what I wanted to do. But I knew I wanted more. The opportunity with Spotlight had been a total lucky strike, simply by meeting Bryce and building a friendship over time. I knew that most people wouldn’t take a chance on someone like me, not for something real and important, with skills but no experience.
I remembered Cooper’s job offer. I had been tempted to call him last night. To tell him about the horrible meeting with Rita, and getting fired. I had come close to a good, old-fashioned drunk dial, but had resisted. Or maybe that was around the time I passed out. Either way, I was just glad I hadn’t gone through with it. Although, I had to admit, I was curious at what kind of job he would offer me. Brighton Enterprises was a huge company with branches in all kinds of industries. The possibilities would be endless and there was a good chance I could get stuck in some obscure department with little to no contact with him. Surely he didn’t make the rounds on a daily basis. Then again, I wasn’t really sure what he did all day.
I started to wonder what he was doing right now. I wondered if he slept in on the weekends or if he just worked right through, not stopping to rest. Did he play golf with his richy-rich buddies? Did he cook himself breakfast? Order out for every meal? Have a hot maid catering to his every need?
My mind flooded with images of him, imagining all the scenarios as they popped into my head, adding myself into whatever the situation was. There was no denying that with a man like that—life could become quite the adventure. Traveling, fancy parties, anything and everything you wanted right at your fingertips.
I shook my head. “Stop obsessing,” I ordered myself.
I forced myself to return my attention back to the computer screen and continue to live in reality, where I needed a new job if I wanted to buy groceries and pay rent. I couldn’t keep visiting fantasy land where I was a billionaire’s mistress, living in a dream world.
In the middle of my job hunt, I got distracted by a nagging thought in the back of my head. A memory. I kept replaying the image of Rita handing me the print-out in her office last night. Something about it was catching in my mind. My fingernails tapped along the keyboard as I tried to sort it out.
