Sensing that everyone is seated, I pick up a cup in each hand, plaster on a fake smile, and turn to the table when I catch sight of who is sitting beside Graham.
I’m so shocked I stumble, tripping over my own feet and watch in horrified slow motion as the cups fly through the air, dousing both Graham and Asher in hot coffee.
I land hard on my hands and knees to the cacophony of shouting and curse words. I risk looking up, my eyes clashing with the indigo blue ones that had previously stared into mine with lust as he moved inside me.
Now they hold nothing but anger and frustration. What they don’t show is an apology. Even more soul-destroying is that there is no flicker of recognition either.
“Get your stuff and get the fuck out of my building. You’re fired,” Graham’s voice spits angrily from beside him, drawing my attention away from Asher.
I drop my head in defeat.
A hand appears in front of me belonging to an older man with a frown on his face that’s aimed at the two assholes, not me. I take it gratefully, offering him a shaky smile and allow him to help me stand.
My knees throb and my palms sting, but I ignore it, thanking the only man in the room who showed me some kindness and head toward the door. I pull it open and then close it behind me, without looking back. I take a deep breath and wait for everything to hit me, because at the moment, all I feel is utter relief.
I move on autopilot toward my desk. Collecting my things, I turn to leave when a thought occurs to me. I sit in the office chair for what will be the last time and write a note titled Dear future secretary and hide it in the memo list that only the secretaries access.
Standing again, this time with a smile, I grab my jacket and my bag and head back toward the elevators, mulling over the words I left for the unlucky soul that comes after me.
Dear future secretary,
It's not you; it's 100% him. Hold your head up high and smile, then pick up your bag, stride out in your fabulous shoes, and treat yourself to a cocktail. You deserve better than to be treated like a nobody. Life is way too short to be treated as one by a man who will never appreciate you, whether that man is your boss, your father, or your partner.
Stand tall in those fabulous shoes and walk the fuck away.
I smile as the elevator doors slide open, feeling lighter somehow, freer. I walk over to the receptionist who never smiles and wait until she looks up at me.
“Can you send a message to Mr. Morgan, please?”
She nods, taking out a pen and paper. “What do you need me to tell him?” she questions, ever efficient.
“Tell him, Linda says, fuck you.” I smile, turn on my heel, and leave Morgan Financial Holdings for the last time.
I don’t look back, but as the glass door closes behind me and I turn to walk away, I catch sight of the receptionist's lip twitch before a broad smile splits her face.
Four
Asher
After a rocky start, the meeting runs smoothly and all the contracts are signed.
“You still want to grab breakfast?” Graham asks when the last person leaves.
“I’m going to have to take a raincheck. I need to head back home and get changed now before the meeting I have downtown this afternoon.”
“I’m sorry about Laura. I swear I should have just fired her weeks ago.”
I shake my head at him. The number of secretaries Graham goes through is legendary.
“Call me later and we’ll set something up for next week,” I tell him as we shake hands and I leave him to it.
Making my way to the elevators, I whistle quietly while I wait and think about what I have on my calendar for the rest of the day. I ride down to the lobby somewhat distractedly, smiling at the brunette who passes me as I leave the elevator.
A flash of heat washes over me, not because of the woman at my back, but at the memory of one who fucked me stupid back in Vegas. Shaking my head to clear it before my dick starts saluting people, I look toward the reception desk as I pass, catching a snippet of the conversation.
“She said, sir, and I quote, fuck you. Am I right in assuming you’ll need me to contact the agency about a replacement secretary?” the woman asks sweetly, making me chuckle.
Pushing the doors open, I stop for a moment and inhale deeply. The air is damp today after last night's rainfall. I fill my lungs before turning and heading home to change. Nothing, not even spilled coffee, is going to mess with my mood today. At least it only burned my legs not my dick, right?
Of course, I really shouldn't have tempted fate because when I pull up to my office building an hour and a half later, I immediately notice the Audi parked out front.
“Fuck,” I gripe, climbing from my car and heading inside.
I can’t even sneak past because the receptionist clocks me the second I walk through the door.
“Good morning, Mr. Sloan. Your 11:30 called. They are running a little late and Beatrice from Carter and Johnsons called to make an appointment for next week.”
“Thank you, Clara,” I tell her, grabbing the note from her hand when she offers it to me.
“Your…stepmother is also here to see you,” she says awkwardly. Her reaction isn’t surprising given that the stepmother in question is younger than me.
I offer her a nod and a tight smile before turning to face the woman I have no desire to see.
It's barely lunchtime, yet Dawn is wearing a skin-tight, short black dress with matching high heels, looking as if she’s ready to go clubbing. She makes her way over to me, flicking her long, bleached-blonde hair over her shoulder as her red-stained lips stretch into a predatory smile.
“Asher,” she greets in an exaggerated way that grates on my nerves.
“Dawn,” I clip out in return.
Not wanting to cause a scene in the lobby, I escort her upstairs to my office, tuning her out as she chatters on about inconsequential shit that I don't give one single fuck about. Shutting the door behind her, I sit in my chair and talk right over her, knowing if I wait for her to get to the point on her own, I’ll be here all week.
“Dawn, what are you doing here?” I ask her bluntly, feeling the beginnings of a headache pressing against my temple.
“I signed the divorce papers this morning and your father informed me he's getting married?” Her voice turns shrill at the end.
“Yes, and?” I question, wondering what the fuck I did to deserve this.
“And? And? Jesus, Asher, the ink isn’t even dry and he’s picked out his next bride. What will people think?”
“Honestly, Dawn, they’ll think the same as they did last time. You know, when he divorced Carina before marrying you. You didn’t seem so bothered by it then,” I point out.
“I was blinded by love,” she huffs, making me roll my eyes.
More like blinded by dollar signs.
“Regardless, I still don't understand what you’re doing here,” I reply impatiently.
“It's just…everything is so expensive here….” She drifts off.
“Guess it's time you thought about moving back home then.” I stand to show her out, but she walks forward and places a hand on my chest, the other dragging red-tipped nails up my arm seductively.
“Maybe you could take me out to dinner and we could…talk some more.” She says the word talk like she would say fuck.