Текст книги "Love Hate Relationship"
Автор книги: Jessica Prince
сообщить о нарушении
Текущая страница: 1 (всего у книги 16 страниц)
Copyright © 2015 by Jessica Prince
All rights reserved.
Visit my website at www.authorjessicaprince.com
Cover Designer: Najla Qamber, www.najlaqamberdesigns.com
Editor: www.hottreeediting.com
Interior Designer: Jovana Shirley, Unforeseen Editing, www.unforeseenediting.com
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
OTHER BOOKS BY JESSICA
THE PICKING UP THE PIECES SERIES:
Picking up the Pieces
Rising from the Ashes
Pushing the Boundaries
Worth the Wait
THE COLORS NOVELS:
Scattered Colors
Shrinking Violet
Love Hate Relationship
Wildflower (coming January 2016)
THE LOCKLAINE BOYS (A LOVE HATE RELATIONSHIP SPINOFF):
Fire and Ice – Griffin and Pepper’s story (coming April 2016)
Untitled Book #2 – Richard and Delilah’s story (coming July 2016)
DEADLY LOVE TRILOGY:
Destructive
Addictive
Obsessive (coming soon)
OTHER TITLES:
Nightmares from Within
To Jacob,
Because of the random things you say, Mommy will always have something funny to put in her books. I love you with all of my heart!
Prologue
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-One
Twenty-Two
Twenty-Three
Twenty-Four
Twenty-Five
Twenty-Six
Twenty-Seven
Twenty-Eight
Twenty-Nine
Thirty
Thirty-One
Thirty-Two
Thirty-Three
Thirty-Four
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
Navie sat on the dirty, trash-covered floor in the living room of the rundown apartment she lived in with her mother. Knees pulled tight to her chest, she rocked back and forth as she stared out the grime-covered window. The sun was slowly falling from the sky, making the room darker and darker with every passing minute. She’d tried flicking the switch that was supposed to turn on the ceiling light, but when she flipped it up, nothing happened.
None of the lights in her house would come on.
Tears streaked down her face as she kept her dark eyes trained on the window, hoping and praying her mother would return soon. It wasn’t unusual for her to wander off with the man who stayed with them after they’d snorted that white stuff off the table, or poked their arms with those sharp needles. But she’d never stayed gone for so long. She knew Navie was scared of the dark. She wouldn’t have left her all by herself when nighttime was falling. Something had to be wrong.
The darkness in the room turned to a deep black so heavy she couldn’t see anything at all. It wasn’t until she’d cried her tiny body into exhaustion that she’d finally managed to fall asleep.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Navie jolted awake on the living room floor, her little body quaking in fear as the front door rattled on its rusty hinges.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
She tried her best to keep her sobs quiet, but she was so scared that it was the mean man who always came to see her mother. She hated the mean man. He always broke things and hit her mommy, yelling about money every time he came. She really hoped it wasn’t him. He’d be so mad if he discovered Mommy wasn’t home.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
“Police department,” a deep voice called through the flimsy door. “Open up.”
It wasn’t the bad man. It was the police. Police were supposed to help you. They helped find people and arrested bad guys. With a desperate cry of excitement that she was no longer alone, Navie jumped up from the floor and rushed to open the front door.
“Have you found my mommy?” she shouted as soon as the door swung all the way open. The tall man in a dark blue uniform looked down at her. His smile was kind, but there was something behind his eyes that looked a little sad.
“Hey there, sweetheart,” he spoke as he crouched down to Navie’s level. “I’m Officer Michaels. What’s your name?”
“N-Navie,” she stuttered shyly.
“Navie, like the color?”
She gave a barely discernible nod as she looked at Officer Michaels through her lashes.
“Well that’s a really pretty name.”
“T-thank you. Mommy said it’s ‘cuz my eyes are dark, just like my daddy’s.”
“Is your daddy here, honey?” he asked.
“No. Mommy said he went away before I was born. Do you know where my mommy is? She left a long time ago. She should have come back, but she hasn’t yet. It got dark and I’m scared of the dark, and none of the lights would turn on. Did you find her?”
Officer Michaels stood to his full height and scanned the room before him, his jaw ticking with concealed rage as he took in the disgusting condition of the apartment the poor little girl was obviously living in. Chances were, if the mother had been there right at that moment, he’d have lost complete control of his anger.
What kind of woman raised a child in filth? Better yet, what kind of woman abandoned her child, leaving her scared and alone through the night? If they hadn’t received a call from a concerned neighbor informing them that there was a kid alone in the apartment, who knew how long Navie would have been by herself?
“No, sweetheart,” Officer Michaels spoke in a low, soothing voice. “We haven’t found your mommy. But we’re gonna take really good care of you, okay? You’re not going to have to be alone anymore.”
“Okay.” Navie nodded, taking the big man’s outstretched hand. “I don’t like being alone. Especially in the dark.”
Officer Michaels’ fist clenched tighter around the little girl’s tiny hand. If he could, he would have scooped her up and taken her home with him. That just wasn’t feasible, though. He could only pray that CPS found a decent foster home for the child and that some loving family would come along in the near future to adopt her and give her the life she deserved. He also prayed he never crossed paths with her mother.
It was a good thing to pray for. Those hopes made it easier to hand her off to the social worker a few hours later. As the little girl with the big, navy blue eyes turned to look at him over her shoulder, fear evident in their dark depths as the worker led her away, he found himself rubbing at a dull, lingering ache in the center of his chest.
Closing his eyes after she rounded the corner out of his sight, he offered up his silent words as a lone tear trailed down his cheek.
Dear Lord, please give that little girl a beautiful life.
“I look like a turd.”
My top lip slowly curled up in disgust as I stood in front of the full length mirror in my bedroom, taking in the boxy, ill-fitting skirt suit I was wearing. The ugly brown garment hung from my petite frame in the most unflattering way, making me look at least twenty pounds heavier than I actually was. I wanted to rip the damn suit off and burn it so no other poor, unsuspecting woman would ever have to fall victim to such a crime against fashion ever again.
“You do not!” Harlow insisted passionately from her spot on my bed. A quick glance at my best friend and roommate had me rolling my eyes. She hadn’t even bothered to glance up from her damn magazine long enough to actually look at the monstrosity I was wearing.
“You didn’t even look!” I whined. I even threw in a foot stomp for good measure.
“Oh, my God,” Harlow grumbled dramatically, rolling her eyes. “You look…” As soon as her eyes hit me and she clammed up, I knew it was bad. “Oh, sweet Jesus’s mother, Navie! What the hell is that?!”
“I knew it!” I shouted as I threw myself back onto the bed. “This is awful! I can’t go. I just can’t. There’s no way I can walk into that place dressed like this.”
“What the hell happened to your other outfit?”
As I thought about my sleek, black pencil skirt, I silently mourned its loss, trying my hardest not to openly weep at its demise. “I ripped it on the turnstile,” I sniffled.
I thought back to my first interview with Lauren Brown of Enterprise PR, and how wonderfully it had gone. I’d been on cloud nine the whole way home, when I went through the subway turnstile and ripped a massive hole in the side of my one and only interview outfit. When she called yesterday requesting a second interview, I spent ten minutes doing a happy dance before realizing I didn’t have a single suitable article of clothing in my closet and spiraled into a full blown freak out.
“This was the only thing at the thrift store that even came close to fitting,” I lamented as I stared up at the popcorn ceiling of my bedroom. The tiny Murray Hill apartment wasn’t the best, but it was one of the only places Harlow and I had been able to afford after graduation. We’d been on cloud nine when we signed the lease, convinced we were about to take the world by storm.
Yeah, not so much.
Who’d have thought jobs didn’t just fall into recent college grads’ laps? It was mind boggling when I stopped to think about it. I’d earned a generic business degree for the simple fact that it made job hunting easier. I’d have loved to major in something more creative, but I wanted to ensure that I’d have a way to stand on my own two feet when I was finished. My foster brother, Carson, and his wife, Cassidy, have been fabulous throughout the past four years, but I refused to take another cent from either of them. Cassidy had come into their relationship with a toddler already, and they were expecting another baby in a matter of months. I knew Carson would offer up anything he could to help me out, but he had other things to worry about. I was determined to take that burden off his shoulders once and for all.
Harlow had landed an executive assistant job for some clothing franchise a week back, but had yet to get her first check, while I’d been spending every available hour not spent job hunting, waiting tables at the café I’d been working at since freshman year of college. Needless to say, tips weren’t going to cover my half of the bills much longer.
Call me crazy, but I’d grown accustomed to having a roof over my head and four walls surrounding me. I kind of preferred electricity and running water. I felt pretty confident in admitting that I wouldn’t fare well without it. I watched Naked and Afraid. I wasn’t embarrassed to admit my limitations. And homelessness was definitely a limitation.
Why, oh why, did I have to fall in love with a city that was so damn expensive?
Harlow dropped the magazine onto the bed and stood to her full five feet, seven inches. When she propped her hands on her slender hips and appraised me with narrow, assessing eyes, I couldn’t help but feel somewhat inferior. She was absolutely stunning, statuesque… basically any adjective you could come up with to describe tall, slim and gorgeous, that was Harlow.
Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t fat at all, but being cursed to only stand three inches above five feet—all right, so I only stood one and a half inches above five feet, so sue me—made it much easier for a slice of pizza, (or the mac and cheese I just couldn’t resist the night before) to show on my teeny-tiny frame. Not only was I a shorty, but I was curvy as well. It wasn’t exactly easy to go shopping for new clothes with my body type. Being poor, short, and curvy, and having no option but to dress like the plain brown M&M no one ever wants to eat was just another one of God’s cruel jokes.
“You know,” she started, “if you’d just call—”
I cut her off with a wave of my hand. It was the same predictable conversation we’d been having for months. “Don’t even start, Har. I already told you. I’m not calling Carson or Cassidy. They have enough on their plates as it is. I’m not asking them for more money.”
“Jesus, you’re stubborn,” she huffed.
I lifted my head from the mattress and narrowed my eyes at her. “Four years of living together and you’re only just now realizing this?”
“You know they’re going to be pissed if they find out you’ve been keeping this from them. They’re your family and they want to help you out. Hiding the fact that you’re broke from them won’t make the situation go away.”
“You think I don’t know that?” I asked sarcastically as I sat up to look at her. “I tapped the last of the savings Carson had for me to put up my half of the deposit on this place, and I’ve been so damn busy with school and work and looking for a stupid grownup job that I haven’t been able to make any jewelry in months, so there’s no income coming in from that, either. What I need is to nail this interview so I can start pulling my weight around here. You riding my ass about keeping things from my family isn’t all that helpful at this point, Harlow.”
“Okay…” she drew out, a look of determination skating across her stunning face. “Then let’s make sure you nail this interview.”
“Yay!” I shouted, hopping from the bed and holding my arms out. “So? Can you help me?” I asked, turning from side to side, hoping she could somehow make the poo-suit work.
Her eyes scanned up and down my body for several seconds. “Why don’t you just wear something of mine,” she offered casually, earning herself an evil glare.
“Because anything of yours that even comes remotely close to fitting is either at the cleaners, insanely short, or uncomfortably tight.”
She looked me over again in silent contemplation. “It’s really not so bad.” I would have believed her if it weren’t for the small cringe she didn’t do a good enough job of masking. “We can totally make this work.” I couldn’t tell who she was trying to convince more, me or herself.
Thank God for best friends who had fabulous fashion sense. “Strip,” she demanded. Not questioning Harlow’s brilliance when it came to clothes, I quickly divested myself of the hideous outfit so she could work her magic. Ten minutes later—with the help of about a thousand safety pins and some double sided tape—she’d done the best she could do. The outfit was still hideous, but at least it fit a tad bit better. I mixed in a few pieces of gold jewelry I’d made, a chunky necklace and a matching bracelet, and I was set.
“That’s as good as it’s going to get, babe,” Harlow spoke apologetically.
I moved my gaze from my reflection in the mirror to where she was standing behind me. “You can only do so much, sweets. It’s not like you can work miracles.”
“Don’t worry about the outfit, babe. As soon as those people get to know you, you’re as good as in. Everyone who meets you falls in love with you. Just be your usual, charming self.”
“Easier said than done, Harlow,” I muttered as I gazed at my reflection in the mirror. “My usual, charming self doesn’t typically dress like a petrified Tootsie Roll that’s been under the car seat for the past year and a half.”
“You don’t look like a—you know what? I’m not even going to lie to you right now. You totally do. You look like shit… literally, and I mean that in the most loving, sincere way possible. Now, get your ass moving or you’re going to be late.”
“Best pep-talk ever, Harlow,” I deadpanned as she shoved me toward the front door.
“You know I’m always there for ya, babe. Now, go knock ‘em dead,” she said, giving me a hard slap on the ass. “I’ll have a pitcher of sangria ready for you when you get home.”
I turned to yell over my shoulder as I scurried down the hall. “And that, right there, is why I love you. If va-jay-jays didn’t scare the living hell outta me, I’d totally wife you.”
“And if I wasn’t terrified of suffocating to death in your cleavage, I’d totally wife you, too,” she called back down the hall just as our neighbor, Donald, opened his front door.
“You know what’s worse than living across the hall from two hot chicks?” he asked, his eyes bouncing back and forth between Harlow and me. “Living across the hall from two hot chicks who joke about having lesbian tendencies. It’s wrong to toy with a man’s emotions like that, ladies. Just plain wrong.”
With a loud laugh and a wave over my shoulder, I bolted down the hall, bypassing the elevator, which had been broken since we moved in four months ago, and pushed open the door to the stairwell. A sense of excitement began to build in my chest as I made my way down the five flights of stairs toward the street below. Despite the fashion mishap, I had a good feeling about my interview. Maybe things were finally starting to look up for me. The past four years had been eye opening for me. The culture shock of New York City after living in BFE, Texas, had been overwhelming, to say the least. It had taken some serious adjusting, but with Carson and Cassidy’s support, and the quick friendship I’d developed with Harlow, I’d managed to pave my way.
I’d changed since leaving Willow Ranch. I was a different person. The timid, frightened girl who used to be bullied and picked on in high school was gone. Cassidy had been instrumental in helping me find my self-confidence. Having someone so amazing at my back gave me strength. There was more steel in my spine than there had ever been before. Life had given me thick skin, but I’d managed to build up my self-confidence in a way that made me stronger than I’d ever been before. I was no longer afraid to stand up for myself and what I believed in. I’d grown up. I’d overcome all the bad in my past, and I was finally ready to take on the world.
And nothing was going to hold me back.
“This is bullshit,” I grumbled as I collapsed against the back of my chair.
“Well, too damn bad, Rowan,” Lauren said from across the wide expanse of her desk. If she hadn’t been the best goddamned publicist in New York, I swear to God, I’d fire her simply for being a raging pain in my ass. Lauren casually leaned back in her chair, twirling a pen back and forth through her fingers. She appeared almost bored as she looked over at me. “The last personal assistant you were in charge of hiring was gone within the first month. You’ve left me no choice. I can’t trust you with the hiring process, so now I get to take time out of my hectic schedule to babysit you through the interviews so I can guarantee we get a PA who's worth what they’re being paid. And this time, he or she will be employed by Enterprise, not you. So you can’t fire them for no good reason.”
“I didn’t fire Veronica for no good reason,” I argued. “My reason was totally valid.”
“First of all,” Lauren said, sitting tall in her chair. “Her name was Victoria. And second, you fired her because you slept with her—”
“And she got clingy!” I interrupted. “She turned into a grade-A psycho, Lauren. The woman should have been committed, for Christ’s sake.”
“If you wouldn’t go around New York sticking your dick in every willing female then maybe you wouldn’t have this problem, Rowan. Ever think of that?!”
“Aww, baby,” I crooned, knowing I was risking the well-being of my nuts, but I was unable to control my desire to push her buttons. I’d worked with Lauren for nearly a decade, and her bark was most certainly as bad as her bite. The woman was a shark, and although teetering in her mid-fifties, she still looked good for her age… damn good. I respected the hell out of her as a publicist, but that didn’t mean I didn’t get a kick out of pissing her off every now and then. “You feeling left out? Just say the word and I’ll bend you over that desk and fuck the tension right out of you.”
“Oh, for the love of God,” she huffed with a dramatic roll of her eyes. “This is exactly what I’m talking about. You’re a goddamned PR nightmare, Rowan!”
“I think that’s a bit of an exaggeration,” I muttered as I crossed my arms over my chest, feeling somewhat insulted.
“It’s not, Rowan, believe me. I wish I were exaggerating. You were photographed having sex in public with a married woman…”
“In my defense, I didn’t know she was married,” I responded.
“I saw the pictures, Rowan,” Lauran said dryly. “There isn’t enough brain bleach in the world to un-see what I saw. There was no missing the three-carat ring on her finger.”
“Hey, she came on to me. I was too distracted by her tongue down my throat to notice a wedding ring.”
Continuing on as though she hadn’t heard me, she said, “You got into a pissing match with one of your readers on Twitter that went viral!”
“Well, that reader was obviously a moron.”
“He gave you a bad review so you called him an 'inbred, uneducated, backwoods hillbilly'. Christ, Rowan, you hashtagged 'uncle fucker'. What were you thinking?”
I thought back to that particular incident and couldn’t help but cringe. “Okay, so that might not have been one of my finest moments…”
“You have no fine moments. You’ve shown a side of yourself on social media that your readers don’t like. And when your readers don’t like you as a person, they’re not going to buy your books. Broken Shadows was your worst release to date, which is a damn shame because it’s the best book you’ve ever written, but you’ve turned people off, Rowan. They don’t like you. Trademark is talking about dropping you at the end of your contract. And there’s not a publishing house in this state who will pick you up if that happens. Your agent is scrambling to keep them calm, but your image is shot to shit. If there’s the slightest possibility I can pull you out of the cesspool you’ve created, I need to make sure you don’t ruin it.
“You’re a self-centered, narcissistic asshole who needs an assistant who can put up with your bullshit without running away screaming, or spreading her legs. That’s why I’m in charge of hiring. The only reason you’re here is because I decided to grant you the courtesy of meeting the person I decided to hire, which is more than you deserve. So, I suggest you sit back, shut the hell up, and let me do the job you pay me for, which, as of right now, is nowhere near enough money.”
I opened my mouth to throw back some smart-ass—undoubtedly witty—comeback, only to be interrupted by a faint knock on her office door.
“Okay, that’s her. Please, for the love of God, just behave.”
Throwing her my most winning smile, I replied, “No worries, Lauren. I’ll be my usual, charming self.”
“No! No, do not be yourself. Be anyone but yourself. You know what? Just don’t talk. That would be smart. Just sit there and play mute.”
Before I had a chance to act properly offended, she called for the person on the other side to come in. The door opened slowly and I caught my first glimpse of shining, honey blonde hair that had me holding out serious hope for the rest of what was hidden behind the door. I had a serious thing for blondes with mile-long legs that I could wrap around my waist—or shoulders—with ease. However, all my hopes were dashed as she stepped into the office, my visions of wrapping my fist in that long, thick mane of hair went up in a puff of smoke with the snick of the door closing behind her.
Don’t get me wrong, she was cute… but I didn’t do cute. I did hot, I did sexy, I did exotic. Never cute. Cute got clingy. Cute wore their hearts on their sleeves and could never differentiate between love and really good sex. Cute was a pain in my ass. And the woman—more aptly, the girl, because that’s exactly what she looked like—standing before me in an ill-fitting, shit colored suit didn’t have an exotic bone in her barely five-foot-tall body. For Christ’s sake, she looked like one of those damn china dolls. She might as well have hung a sign from her neck that read, Warning, Extremely Fragile. Handle with Care.
I hadn’t the first clue how to handle anything with care. And I certainly didn’t do anything in the bedroom with care. I couldn’t fathom what my publicist had been thinking when she brought this girl in for an interview. No way in hell would she last two seconds as my personal assistant. She’d probably break down in tears within the first week.
Yep, it was official. Lauren had just fucked me… and in none of the ways I enjoyed.
You got this. You got this. You got this.
The internal pep talk, along with the mental fist bump I was giving myself, went a long way in calming my nerves as I lifted my hand to knock on the heavy wooden door. When the feminine voice called out to come in, I shook out my slightly sweaty hands, squared my shoulders and lifted my chin.
I’ve so got this, I thought as I pushed the door open and stepped into the large, expensively decorated office of Lauren Brown at Enterprise PR.
My eyes quickly scanned the huge expanse of the office before landing on the most handsome man I’d ever seen up close. I took in his nearly jet black hair and penetrating ice blue eyes. Oh, hell, I so don’t got this.
It took all of five seconds to scan the entirety of his face—full, dark brows tipped down; strong, defined jawline covered in a bit of scruff; full, deliciously pouty lips pulled down into a frown that did absolutely nothing to take away from his stunning good looks. Jesus Christ on a cracker, the man looked like he belonged on the cover of a magazine…all of them. As his chilly gaze trained on me, seeping through my skin and causing me to shiver, it took everything in me not to melt into a puddle of goo on the carpet. The man sitting before me was what every female fantasy was made of, and there was no doubt, whatsoever, he was going in my spank bank.
But then, because luck was a fickle bitch who hated me for some apparent reason, he opened his mouth and all that hot, rugged, manly man-ness went right out the window.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Lauren. You’ve got to be kidding me!”
“Excuse me?” I asked, my forehead creasing in confusion as my gaze bounced between Sir Hotness McPotty-Mouth and Lauren.
“Rowan, I’ll kindly ask that you keep your comments to yourself for the duration of this meeting,” Lauren told the man with a scowl so fierce it looked like it could melt paint off the walls. As she turned back to me her smile was genuine. “Ms. Collins, please come in and have a seat.”
I took the last few steps toward the empty chair next to the man, who was currently staring daggers at me for some unknown reason, and sat down, rubbing my damp palms on my skirt anxiously.
“Ms. Collins, this is Rowan Locklaine. I apologize in advance for his… demeanor. I was just telling him what a valuable asset you’re going to be as his personal assistant.”
The sound of brakes screeching to a halt echoed through my head for more reasons than one.
“Personal assistant? But, I thought the position was for a senior administrative assistant with the company.”
Rowan let out a rough, gravelly sound, something between a snort and a scoff, as Lauren fidgeted just slightly behind her desk. “Yes, well, that was the original position you applied for. However, after meeting with you, I was convinced you’d be a perfect fit as Mr. Locklaine’s assistant. You’ll still be employed by Enterprise as a part of my team, but you’ll be working directly with Rowan as opposed to me.”
“Wait…” I shook my head in an attempt to clear the cobwebs. I was having trouble keeping up. “So, I already have the job? I thought I was coming in today for my second interview.”
“After our initial interview, I saw no need to drag out the process any further. I think you’ll make a wonderful addition to the Enterprise team. And I feel confident that you’re exactly what Mr. Locklaine needs.”
While the words were complimentary, the narrow-eyed glare she shot to the man next to me as she spoke them caused my hackles to rise.
“Now, here is all the paperwork. You’ll need to fill that out so we can get it to HR. Your salary and benefits package is enclosed, as well. This position pays more than we had originally discussed, so please take a chance to look that over. If you have any questions at all, please don’t hesitate to call me. I’m here if you need anything at all.”
I’d just walked into The Twilight Zone. I came prepared for a second interview, only to find out I’d already been given the job. Granted, it wasn’t the job I’d originally applied for, but it was still a job, nonetheless. As I looked down at the packet in my hands, my eyes grew wide at the dollar amount listed on the page. That couldn’t have been right. There was no way a personal assistant made that kind of money.
I felt like I was missing something really important. With the looks Lauren kept giving that Rowan guy, his obvious bad mood, and the dream salary, I couldn’t help but think I was being left out of the loop on something important.
Quit your bitching, Navie. You need the job and the money!
Despite my reservations, there was no arguing with the pushy voice in my head. No matter what hurdles came with the job, I was determined to be the best damn personal assistant who had ever existed.
“Thank you so much, Lauren. Mr. Locklaine,” I said with a nod to the frowning yet insanely handsome man. “I look forward to working with you.”
That comment earned me another snort/scoff, but Lauren was too quick to jump in before I could question whether or not something was wrong.
“The pleasure is all ours, I assure you,” she responded as I stood and came around the desk to shake my hand. “I’m sure Rowan is just as excited as you are…” I doubt that, I thought, but she wasn’t finished. “…and if you have any issues… any issues at all…” she continued with a side glance at Rowan. “You don’t hesitate to come to me.”
Well, that was rather cryptic. Before I could fully grasp the meaning behind her statement, I was being graciously, if not somewhat hastily, pushed from the office, the door clicking behind me with resounding finality.
“Well,” I said to myself as I headed toward the elevators, “a job’s a job. It can’t be that bad.”
Famous last words.
