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Wrong type of three-way
MIA
If karma were a dildo, it would be a minimum of fifteen inches long with a girth of at least eight inches and covered in barbed wire. Currently,mykarma dildo is without lube and positioned a centimeter from my sphincter. If I flinch or sneeze, I’m screwed in the worst way.
Oh, who am I kidding? The sneeze is unnecessary at this point.
No amount of digging or, ahem, research will get me out of this mess.
With pep in his step, Tomer leads Klein and me down the hall. It’s quite a change from how he marched to Big Al’s office before the meeting with his shoulders hunched and head down, while he muttered gruffly. I get the feeling that’s his default mode. Sort of like the factory settings for Tomer Stillman.
He’s gotten a mood upgrade today with the news about having a three-person team at his disposal instead of just him and me. At least one of us isthrilledwith Big Al’s grand plan.
Klein and me? Not so much.
He did a semi-decent job of schooling his reaction after Boss called him out on his stunned silence, but when the bomb first dropped, I thought Klein was about to slip into a surprise coma.
As we pass my office door, Tomer pauses abruptly and faces us. “How about you both get your laptops and come to the lair? I want to start immediately.”
With that, he turns on his heel and bebops off. Klein and I stand in silence, watching as our human buffer disappears into his office.
Should I say something to Cal to crack the tension?
It didn’t go well the last time I tried to make peace. The rules of engagement say that it’s his turn to extend the olive branch.
Side note: those rules exist, right? This is a totally normal situation. Happens every day. No doubt other women across the country are standing beside the man they seduced under false pretenses at this very moment. Of those, a minimum of 80 percent— give or take a few— have likely been blindsided with a death sentence. Oops. Did I say death sentence? I mean anassignmentthat consists of working with said sexy man in close quarters indefinitely. Maybe even 90 percent.
Play it cool, Mia. You’ve got this.
Okay, fine. If he isn’t going to speak, I’ll just let him stew some more. At some point, he’ll unload all the ire he’s holding back. And that’s fine.
Really.
I’ll listen and apologize. Then we’ll move on. Easy peasy. Piece of cake.
Mmm. Cake.
I think I’ll have red velvet tonight. Today is a red velvet-level day.
Without a glance in his sexy direction, I grab my laptop and sweater from my office. Tomer is my de facto superior, and he wants me in his office. So off I go.
Why have a confrontation now when we can put it off until… the apocalypse, perhaps? Until a meteor is headed to Earth? Some other natural disaster with planet-destroying potential? Any of the above suits me just fine.
Avoidance, it’s the spice of life.
By the time I’ve gathered my things, Klein has vanished.
Good. But sadly, I missed the view of his retreat. Pity.
Oh, it just hit me. I must be drawn to Cal’s ass because of my affinity for cake. He’s got a double-layer cake that just won’t quit. I want to take abigbite.
No, stop it. No cake for you!
I beat Klein into Tomer’s lair— hilarious name, by the way— which feels like an odd victory to celebrate. Yet I think my conscience did a fist pump. Weird.
As I approach, Tomer’s busy clearing off a portion of the long desk surface in front of a docking station and large monitor.
“Here,” he says, not making eye contact while jabbing a tube of disinfectant wipes at me. “If you’re anything like me, you like a clean space. Not saying the space is dirty, but… well, whatever.”
