Chapter 18

Mariah

The next day in the office, I (thankfully) don’t have time to worry about what it means that my new boss apparently turns me on. I take the morning to finish my research on the Sanchez project’s situation, and the early afternoon to make a few calls that I’m hoping will salvage the whole thing in one fell swoop.

My plan might just work, if luck and pure desire have any influence in the universe. In other words, it probably won’t… but if I don’t try, what am I even doing here?

After lunch, I make a quick stop at the reception desk to talk with Kristy. She’s on the phone when I get there, and barely spares me a glance until she’s done. Even then, a curt “Yes?” is all I get.

“I think there’s some paperwork here that I need to fill out? I got an email from HR that they were sending up a bundle for me.”

“No problem.” Kristy’s look is anything but happy. She hands me a manila envelope without making eye contact.

“Is something wrong?”

“Not for you, obviously.” Kristy keeps her attention on her laptop screen.

“What do you mean?” I ask, even though I’m pretty sure I already know the answer.

“Look.” Kristy raises her gaze from the screen and fixes it on me. “I put on the same stupid uniform you did. I put up with the same jokes and the same shit. That’s part of the job. But whatever you did to get yourself plucked out of the pool and put at the top of the ladder so fast? It’s pure luck. Or something else, I’m thinking. You didn’t earn it. Unless working on your back counts. But, just know this. The second your fresh pussy dries up you’ll be out of here and I’ll be waiting to take your place.”

I’m almost surprised at this, but to be honest, I’d probably feel the same way if our positions were reversed. Not that I’m going to admit that to her. Almost against my will, I hear my dad’s voice in my head again. “Making enemies isn’t the job, but often it’s a side effect of a job well done.”

“Luck’s got nothing to do with it,” I say, letting cold creep into my voice. “And neither does anything else that you’re…. implying. This job is mine, and I earned it.”

Despite - or maybe because of - the fact that I’ve been assuring myself of the same thing for the last two days, the words sound somehow hollow when I say them out loud. Did I only get this job because the boss likes how I look? Because there’s that electrifying attraction between us? The phone rings, thankfully saving me from the slippery slope in my head, at least for the moment.

“Don’t you need to get that?” I’m being snide and I know it, but I figure I owe myself one in this conversation, all things considered.

Without waiting for a response, I head back down the hallway to my office. Behind me, I hear her say, in a distinctly more professional tone than our conversation had had, “Good afternoon, Drive Realty. How may I direct your call? I’m sorry, he’s in a meeting at the moment; let me put you through to his voicemail.”