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“Gloating? Perish the thought, Mr. Foster.” Her smugness remains.
“I only agreed to this because it’s the right thing to do. Also, I maintain we could have easily replaced her with someone equally suitable.”
Someone less pretty and considerably less intrusive.
Even alittle lesspretty would do.
A girl with big ears or missing teeth, or a Wyoming farm boy with a nose fatter than a carrot.
“Of all the applications we received with the criteria we set, Miss Lancaster’s brand was the best fit, Mr. Foster. That isn’t just coming from me. I put together an eight-person committee who—”
A raised hand signals that I’ve already heard enough.
The best.
I’m starting to believe it.
I don’t fucking want to.
Just like I don’t dare give Hannah Cho any response that makes her head bigger than a hot air balloon as I turn and stalk back toward the elevator.
4
A Little War (Destiny)
Istand there fuming for several minutes.
Miss Cho asked me to wait, but I don’t know how long she expects me to stay in the office of a man who insulted me and rushed out like I caused an allergic reaction. I’m not even sure I still have a role at Home Shepherd.
What the hell is his deal?
Okay, so he probably didn’t know who was picked for the program. But am I really so toxic, one past screaming match over the world’s dumbest kayaking trip aside?
I made the effort today. I got dressed up.
I nailed the application process and the endless PR sessions.
I did everything a good employee should on her very first day, never mind a glorified intern for a nonprofit program.
This is a freakingcharity program. No one pays me to be here beyond the pile of prize money. I’m far more okay with that than anyone who actually needs an income.
Whatever.
I’ll wait twenty minutes, I decide, eyeballing the empty chair in front of his desk.
Do I dare sit? Or would that burn another bridge for touching his property?
He’s probably a total wacko about that too.
Do I evencarewhat impression I’m giving now?
Yes, unfortunately.
Although if he’s behaving this erratically, maybe the tabloid stuff wasn’t the pointless gossip I figured. Maybe I should have paid more attention.
But screw it.
I drop down in the seat in front of his desk—which is almost comically vast. His enormous leather swivel chair behind it makes me think of a throne as I pull up the story.
