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Punk turns in the doorway to face me. “Double?”
“I fibbed, so sue me. I wanted to hurt his ego, not crush it.”
Trent doesn’t need to know it’s triple. I reopen the client file, with Punk chuckling behind me.
CHAPTERFORTY-ONE
SIMONE
This morning’s altercation with Trent fortunately didn’t derail my focus from my work. I made a big dent, finishing the client files from the previous year. Tomorrow, I hope to attack the current year’s files in the firm’s archives, located in document control.
Regrettably, it means having to work directly with Cynthia. After the look she gave me this morning, I can guess it’ll be a less than friendly interaction.
It’s late. The bulk of the firm’s employees left long before our team called it quits. Only a few staff members remain, looking as exhausted as I feel and finishing their tasks for the evening.
Punk and I make our way down the empty hallway toward the elevators when I decide to make a pit stop in the bathroom. All the caffeine I drank to keep me running during the day has finally reached max capacity.
“I’ll be a minute.”
Punk opens the bathroom door. “Sure thing. Let me clear the restroom first.”
My bladder spasms. Unable to wait a second longer, I push past my bodyguard into the white marble bathroom. “Outta the way. I need to go.”
“Fine. Make it quick, or I’m coming in after you,” he grumbles as the door swings closed.
After holding my bladder all day, I nearly sigh with relief when I enter the stall. I quickly finish my business and wash my hands in the sink.
One of the stall doors creaks open on the far side of the bathroom. I think nothing of it as I look up in the mirror to see who it is. My stomach clenches with unease as Cynthia emerges from the stall.
Great.I can already sense the hostility vibrate through the air between us. All I need is a confrontation with her this late in the evening in an empty bathroom.
She says nothing as she comes to the sink next to mine. Instead of washing her hands, she grips the sink counter. It’s as if she needs the extra support as she clears her throat to speak. “Can I ask you something, Simone?”
In a hurry to make a quick getaway, I rush with scrubbing my hands while I say, “Sure.”
Cynthia’s eyes meet mine in the mirror, with shrewd conviction. “It’s understandable if you still have lingering feelings for Trent.”
An unattractive snort escapes me. “I don’t.”
She ignores me as if I said nothing. “But I don’t understand why you’re here after nearly a year.”
“You know why I’m here. I’m auditing the firm. There’s no ulterior motive behind my presence.”
“Have you returned to win Trent back?”
“What?” I shake my hands dry before placing them on my hips. It’s my defense pose, and right now I need to be on the defense. “Absolutely not.”
She closes her eyes a moment, huffing. “I don’t believe you.”
“Okay. Whatever.” Cynthia has made her assumptions, and I’m too tired to give a damn what she thinks or attempt to change her perspective.
“Whatever?” Cynthia’s body shakes, her eyes snapping open to pierce me with a glare in the mirror. “WHATEVER?!”
“Yeah, whatever. Believe it or not, I want nothing to do with Trent. He’s all yours.”
Cynthia’s lips curl. “Then why is he always reaching out to you? Why does he text you late at night when he thinks I don’t know? Why does he take off at odd hours since you returned to the city?”
Jesus fucking Christ.Why am I getting pulled into their relationship drama? It’s not my fault Trent calls or texts me. I don’t respond. Why am I the guilty party in this mess when it’s all Trent’s doing?
