My stomach sinks. Thuds, splatters, dissolves across the polished wood floors.
“Carina.” My voice is too rough. “Please, I already created the design boards.”
Carina announced her effort to land the bid on Sea Wing two months ago. It’s a big project and to fit it in alongside the others the firm already had would equal an enormous payday. Carina was desperate to win it. I was put to work on tentative designs straightaway, and I’ve spent the better part of six weeks organizing and strategizing the order of rooms and how best to utilize the unused space.
“Rina,” Carlos purrs like a Spanish prince. “So harsh, mi amor.”
Does she not have ears? Did she not hear the man speak? The smooth milk chocolate doused in vanilla then wrapped in velvet sound that just filled every crevice of this room? That voice?
Carina is made of stone. No other explanation. She doesn’t even flinch. “Turn over your design boards to Annika. You’ll work on securing new clients.”
“Why not let her take the youth field house, Carina?” James says.
My chest pinches. I only learned of the contract with Burton Field after the blowup at the Marks house. More baseball, more Vegas Kings. I don’t know anything more about the project other than it involves kids.
A definite plus in the favor of baseball.
Carina puffs out her lips. “Gag. The contract is canceled. Thankfully.”
“Why did we cancel again?” James asks.
“Branding.” She waves her hand dismissively. “We specialize in upper class clientele. Naturally, having the police show up to our site is bad branding and bad form. It gave me the perfect excuse.”
Ah. Got it. Now the debacle is for her benefit, but I’m still getting punished for someone else calling the police on me. Fabulous.
“The only reason I even considered it is for Dallas Anderson,” Carina says, wistfully. “He has deep pockets and connections. But . . .” Carina chuckles like a villain in a fairy tale, “so does Matt Hansen of Sea Wing Hotels, but without the jobs involving dirty kids who steal and sell drugs.”
It’s a strike to the face, and she doesn’t even realize it, doesn’t even know how deeply the words ache.
How am I supposed to survive working for this woman any longer? She’s a horrid human, and I’m not sure using her as a steppingstone, no matter how impressive, is worth it as I try to build up my name in the world of design.
I scratch at the vicious itch blossoming across my scalp. A sign of nerves. The heat begins under my hair, then spreads like a thousand creeping things down my neck and spine, until my knees bounce and I try to cross my toes in my shoes.
“Annika.” Carina’s voice snaps me back to the moment. “Rearrange the schedule. Show Ava the ropes around the office.”
“Yes, Ms. Haven.” Annika scowls at me. Resentment for not setting her up with Drake during the summer turned a once amicable working relationship into something steely and cold.
Let her hate me. I’d do it all again. She’s said more than once how much she hates kids. Hard to date a man with a son when you think his offspring is a sticky urchin.
I return the look with a smile and cross my leg over one knee.
Carina leans back in her office chair and smiles. That wicked, evil-stepmother kind of smile. “I think I’ll like having two assistants.”
Her little jab even causes delectable Carlos to snicker. Ha. So,sofunny. She’ll love having a second assistant, no doubt, since one has a salary with a smaller base pay, you know, because I earned commissions offdesignprojects!
Mom and Dad would help, but I’ll never ask. Unfortunately for them, the two kids they raised were already stubbornly independent when we met. They encouraged it and made it worse with all their support and “you’ve got this” attitudes. They have no one to blame but themselves.
That means I’ll handle this financial and professional setback another way. This isn’t a failure. It’s a lesson.
I’ll find another opportunity somehow.
With a dismissive wave, Carina shoos us out of her office.
Out in the hall, James tugs on my elbow. “You okay? That was a little brutal.”
He always acts like he cares. We’ve gone out twice, and I don’t know why I don’t take the plunge with James. He’s handsome, successful, and considerate. Something holds me back and I can’t pinpoint the reason.
Vulnerability is a big ick with people I don’t know. I mean, I know James, but only around five peopleknowme. A handful of people who know all the deepest thoughts, richest emotions, darkest fears in my head. I’ve told James a few basic, need-to-know aspects about my life that I tell anyone by date two, but nothing deeper.
