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It’s one thing for Casey to accuse Zoey of not doing her job, or not supporting her employee as she tries for advancement, but even I know that’s not true, having heard Zoey’s version of this story. I know Casey doesn’t know this, because she isn’t privy to the fact that Zoey and I share more than anyone here realizes.
But knowing what I also know about how Casey was gossiping about Zoey and me, how she was slandering Zoey’s name behind her back because of what shethinksis happening between Zoey and me, well that changes everything.
And I don’t really give a fuck if what Casey thought was happening, is what’s actually happening, she has no fucking right to talk about it. No fucking right to eventhinkabout it.
“What makes you think you were qualified for the new position?” I ask, my voice calm.
Casey huffs out a breath, the action telling me what I already know. “I’m not saying I am,” she protests, her gaze hardening. “But I’m a fast learner, Mr. Morrison and I work hard, so I don’t see why—”
“I’ll tell you what I think, Casey,” I say, interrupting her as I hold up a hand. “I think you’re the kind of employee that doesn’t work hard because you think you should get something simply because you’re here. You think that talking shit about your boss, someone whose opinion you should respect and listen to, is an okay thing to do. And if you think for one minute that I’m going to tolerate that kind of behavior in my workplace, you are sadly mistaken. Consider yourself fired, Casey. You can pack your things and leave immediately. I trust the four weeks salary I’m giving you should more than make up for the notice.”
I push off from my desk, walking toward the door and opening it without waiting for her to respond. When I look back at Casey, she’s looking at me like she cannot believe what she’s hearing. With my hand on the door, I gesture with my other hand that she should leave. Now.
“You can’t…you can’t be, you can’t be serious?” she stammers.
I offer her a smile. “Oh, I’m very serious, Casey. Pack your things and leave. Cameron will escort you out.”
At the mention of his name, my PA jumps up from his desk and is at the door before I can blink, his face stern as he looks at Casey, waiting for her to join him. Her cheeks are pink now, her gaze once more on the floor as she slowly walks toward the door.
When she reaches me, she slows and I can’t resist leaning in and whispering, “And if I find out you had anything to do with what happened to Zoey, trust me when I say there will be hell to pay.”
I watch as her cheeks heat, the pink turning to red, her eyes blinking rapidly as she walks quickly out of the door.
I close it behind her, letting out a long exhale as I lean back against it.
“Well fuck, I wasn’t expecting that,” Brandon says, standing and walking toward me.
I look over to find him grinning at me and I can’t help but shake my head at him. “Yeah, probably not the best move, but she was fucking talking shit about Zoey. A lot of shit.”
“She knows about you two?” Brandon asks, arms crossed over his chest.
“No, I mean not that we know of. She’s just, I don’t know…”
“Jealous?” Brandon suggests, raising a brow.
I push off the door, walking back to my desk where a pile of unopened mail sits. “Fuck knows. I don’t care,” I say, picking up the stack of envelopes as I shuffle through them, my fingers stalling out on a large manilla envelope that’s been hand addressed to me. “What’s this?”
Brandon walks over, taking the envelope from me as he turns it over in his hands. “No idea. Cameron dropped all this off this morning.”
I take it from him, opening the flap before pulling the contents from inside. My blood turning to ice the second I see what’s inside.
“Jesus, fuck,” Brandon breathes out, as he stands beside me.
My eyes flick over the photo I’m holding. It’s of me and Zoey, taken the day we walked out of the police station after talking to Detective Simmons about the CCTV footage from the hotel where the car had been stolen.
We’re holding hands, neither of us smiling, even though we are clearly deep in conversation as we make our way to my car. I flip the photo over, my eyes scanning the five words that are handwritten on the back.
“Cameron dropped these off?” I ask, my eyes never leaving the words, even as I gesture to the stack of mail that was sitting on my desk.
“Yeah,” Brandon breathes out, his hand moving to my shoulder and squeezing. “Fucking hell, Ethan.”
My eyes close for a second as I draw in a long breath, knowing that whatever is going on here, it is far from over. Because this isn’t just a photo, this is a threat. A threat that is very fucking real and very fucking serious.
“You gonna tell her?” Brandon asks, his hand still resting on my shoulder.
I have no fucking idea what I’m going to do. I know I need to call Detective Simmons and I know I need to go and see Zoey right now. Because even though I upped the security and even though I have a guy watching her office and her every fucking move, I cannot risk something happening to her again. Not when this message tells me that is a very real possibility.
And you think she’s safe…
