Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 66323 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 332(@200wpm)___ 265(@250wpm)___ 221(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66323 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 332(@200wpm)___ 265(@250wpm)___ 221(@300wpm)
“Exactly, so the world can see how fucked-up Florence Paddington is.”
Camille shakes her head. “No, honey. Florence is a billionaire who hired you to do a job, and you missed the mark twice.”
“I paid out of my pocket to correct it,” I remind her. “I asked her directly if she liked the new designs, and she approved them. I’m being thrown under the bus here, Camille.”
“Listen, I’m not happy about this, okay? I like you, and you’ve done some beautiful work in the past.”
“In the past? That design is beautiful. You saw it. I assume you were watching the live stream.”
“I was, and I agree. It’s beautiful. But the client doesn’t like it, and their opinion is the only one that counts. You messed up, and I can’t have that in this firm. Our name can no longer be linked to yours.”
I shake my head but stand to leave her office.
“You have fifteen minutes to clear out,” she calls after me.
I don’t reply.
I walk to my office and gesture for Liz to follow me.
“She fired me,” I tell her quickly.
“What?”
“I don’t have much time.” I start to gather the few personal things I keep in my space. Danny’s out in the field, so I’ll call him later. “This probably means that she won’t keep you on. I mean, she might reassign you. But I’ll be starting my own firm.”
Liz’s eyes go wide.
“I’ll be in touch.”
“Please do,” Liz says with a nod and reaches for my hand. “I’ll go with you when the time is right.”
And with that, she walks back to her desk and sits down so no one suspects a thing.
I’m completely dry-eyed as I walk through the office to the elevator. I can feel eyes on me, and I don’t care.
I didn’t do anything wrong, goddamn it.
And I won’t give anyone the satisfaction of seeing me upset.
Because fuck them all.
Chapter 16
Gray
I see the light blink on my phone but ignore it because I have clients sitting at my desk.
“I think this all makes sense,” the woman says. “But I’ll run it past my client and be in touch.”
“Sounds good,” I reply as I stand and walk her and her partner to the door. “I look forward to hearing what your client has to say. Have a good day.”
When I get back to my desk, my mobile is ringing.
“Gray,” I say.
“It’s me,” Stella says in my ear. “It didn’t go well today. I’m headed to your place if that’s okay.”
“Of course, it is,” I say softly. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”
“I’m okay.” I hear her swallow. “It’s going to be okay. I’ll find another job.”
“Wait. They fired you?”
“Oh, yeah. Big time. I’ll tell you all about it later when you get home.”
“I’m on my way.”
“You don’t have to leave early for this, Gray.”
“Yes. I do. I’m on my way.”
I hang up and grab my things, then lock up my office and walk out to talk to Mrs. Hadfield.
“You’re leaving already? But it’s only noon.”
“I had an emergency come up,” I reply brusquely. “Please reschedule my afternoon. I can work from home if anything urgent comes in via email.”
“I’ll take care of it,” she says, immediately picking up the phone. “I hope your mother’s okay?”
I stop and smile at the older woman. “She’s fine. Thank you.”
I can walk to and from work because my condo is only a few blocks from my office, but today, I regret that I didn’t drive. I hate that it takes me twenty minutes to get home.
When I finally walk into the condo, I can tell that Stella’s already here.
Her shoes are by the door, and a box of her office things is on the floor by the couch.
I hurry through to the bedroom but don’t find her.
Instead, I can hear the shower running in the bathroom. So, I return to the kitchen, fill the kettle with water, and put it on the stove to boil.
Ten minutes later, when I walk into the bedroom with a steaming cup of tea, Stella is just climbing onto the bed, dressed in my old gray sweatpants and a college sweatshirt.
Comfort clothes.
She has her face scrubbed free of makeup and her hair up in a messy bun on the top of her head.
“Hi,” she says softly as she sits cross-legged on the bed.
“Hey.” I offer her the tea. She takes it, but she doesn’t sip it. She just stares down into it. “Wanna tell me what happened?”
“Oh, there’s a video of it,” she says and sips the tea. “It was live-streamed. It got so nasty, they stopped filming toward the end because it was just humiliating for all parties involved.”
I kick out of my shoes and sit across from her on the bed. “I take it she still didn’t like it.”
“Not only that, but she tore the new wallpaper right off the wall, smashed a Tiffany vase on the floor, and managed to blatantly accuse me of having sex in her bedroom.”