Fink

Chapter 1

Sydney Cassidy

Spiders made of pipe cleaners, carved pumpkins, and fake bats were everywhere in the conference room.

Purple, green, and black plastic tablecloths were layered over the main table.

The smaller ones were lined up on the wall where the caterers had set up the buffet.

Sydney stood in the corner, sipping from her warm apple cider with only a hint of bourbon in it.

She surveyed her coworkers dressed in a variety of costumes laughing, mingling, and having a good time while “Monster Mash” played softly in the background.

She congratulated herself on a job well done.

This was a fantastic office Halloween party.

Nancy, the office manager, dressed as Mary Poppins, bopped into the room and scanned it.

Sydney knew that look. She was a woman on a mission.

Had something gone wrong in a different room?

Oh no! The photo station. What had her coworkers done with the props?

She knew giving them access to toys and a designated spot to take pictures was a bad idea, but Nancy insisted.

They were mature adults, she had said. Except she seemed to forget what happened when people got access to alcohol and fake mustaches.

Eventually, her boss met her gaze, nodded, and practically charged toward her.

Shit.

What broke? The caterer must not have brought the vegan option. Sydney was sure she triple-checked everything. What could it be?

At her side, Nancy glanced down into the orange-and-black paper cup Sydney held. “What’s in that?”

“Cider,” Sydney said.

Nancy arched her brow and tilted her head. “That’s it?”

With a smile, Sydney lifted one shoulder. “With half a shot of bourbon.”

Nancy reached for it, took it from Sydney’s hand, and tossed it back.

What had gone awry?

“Watch out for Mitchell,” she said, offering the empty cup back to Sydney. “He’s on the warpath.”

Sydney rolled her eyes and accepted Nancy’s trash. “What else is new?”

“We aren’t supposed to be working. This is about morale. For once, I wish he’d slow down and enjoy life.” Nancy wrung her hands.

Sydney snorted.

She’d seen the yacht photos, golf trophies, and she’d ordered the flowers for the multitude of mistresses. If there was one thing Mitchell did well, it was enjoying life. He worked hard and played even harder.

“Honestly, I kind of like that he’s locked himself in his office and is leaving us alone.”

Nancy balked. “You say that now, but if he’s doing his thing, it means he’s going to come in here and start delegating.”

Would she prefer the CEO of the company attend their Halloween bash? He was kind of a cocky dickwad with the personality of a damp dishrag. If Sydney had her way, he’d stay in the office forever.

The longer they stood there, Nancy fretting and Sydney considering alternatives, the more Nancy’s intentions became abundantly clear.

As Mitchell’s personal assistant or secretary, everyone thought Sydney had an in with him.

They figured that as his go-to person, she could talk sense into him.

Which couldn’t be further from the truth. The guy was an utter asshole.

Tight-lipped, Nancy kept her focus on Sydney.

The pressure was too much. Her people-pleasing nature busted out again, and she cracked. If the celebration went tits up, she didn’t want it to be her fault. Not that she steered Mitchell off course if he got a stupid idea about productivity. He was a big fan of corporate buzzwords.

Rolling her eyes, Sydney groaned. “Fine. I’ll talk to him.”

“Thank you.” Nancy rubbed Sydney’s arm. “You always know what to say and do to get him in a better mood.”

When she winked, Sydney recoiled. There was far too much innuendo in that statement.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Sydney asked.

Nancy pursed her lips, stepped back, and lowered her eyes. Guilt was written all over her.

“No. Seriously.” Sydney placed her hands on her hips. She wasn’t going anywhere until Nancy came clean.

Her coworker opened her mouth and closed it quickly. She glanced around as though someone who hadn’t been in on the conversation would rescue her.

When no one came to her aid, her throat bobbed with a swallow, and she met Sydney’s eyes. “There are rumors…”

Folding her arms over her chest, Sydney widened her eyes expectantly and waited for the older woman to continue.

“I don’t believe them.”

Nancy lied through her teeth. Which only irritated Sydney more.

“But some think…”

“Spit it out.”

“I’m not one to gossip.”

Another lie.

“What you do on your own time is your business.” Nancy waved her hand as though she were wiping crumbs off a table. “I respect you for keeping it out of the office.”

Sydney furrowed her brows. “What are you even talking about?”

Nancy bit her bottom lip and once again searched for help.

The stalling got to Sydney. She didn’t have the patience for the bullshit. “Just say it.”

“We all know about your ‘relationship’ with Mitchell.” She had the audacity to use air quotes around the word “relationship.”

“What—” Then the realization hit her, and Sydney blinked repeatedly. She must have misheard her coworker. The woman had to have meant something else.

Nancy picked at her nails and cowered slightly.

“You think I’m sleeping with Mitchell?” Sydney whispered.

“Not me,” Nancy said but apparently rethought it. “He’s done it before. You’re pretty, young—”

“I’m thirty-one years old,” Sydney interrupted. “I’m not some coed he hired because I have big tits.”

Shaking her head, Sydney rolled her eyes in disgust. Dignifying the rumor with a denial would fall on deaf ears. Nancy, and apparently the rest of her office, believed she was some stupid bimbo who slept her way into her position.

With rage boiling in her veins and smoke practically pluming from her ears, she walked away, crumpling the cup in her hand. There wasn’t enough bourbon at the party for her to deal with this effectively.

She was better than that. How dare they reduce her to merely another piece of ass in Mitchell’s rotation. Well, she wouldn’t stand for it. Fuck all of them. She was a damn good personal assistant. She didn’t need Mitchell or his company.

Her search for new employment had already begun. The pay sucked anyway. Why should she stick around if her colleagues thought so little of her? She could do without them.

She tossed her mangled cup into the trash, exited the conference room, and marched through the hall. Should she type a resignation or just walk out? Fuming, she continued toward the offices.