Chapter Nineteen #2
I knew who was the likely suspect that told someone about me and Liam.
Or, more to the point, I hadn’t figured out how I
was going to tell him.
That and the fact Miss Dorothea and Mom were going
head-to-head about who was going to host Thanksgiving this year.
I had a feeling Miss Dorothea was going to win. Danni and
Gabby were now kitting out the last bedroom in our house. This was because
everyone on Darius’s side was descending on Denver, mostly to meet Liam and
look me over, and we were going to have a full house.
“You told me you had this covered!”
I jumped when I heard these words shouted somewhere in the
office. I glanced at my two colleagues, then looked over my shoulder through
the wall of windows into the bustle of the office, across from which, through
another wall of windows, Carrie, the junior associate Jeffrey (it was now in no
doubt) was sleeping with was shoving Jeffrey in the chest.
“Easy for you!” she screeched. “But shit like
this can derail my whole fucking career!”
She probably should have thought of that before she climbed
into a partner’s bed and fucked over his wife.
With that, she flounced out of his office, slamming the door
behind her.
I kept staring, because, Lord, I couldn’t help it. That was a
scene.
Everyone in the office was staring.
But Jeffrey was glowering at the door.
Until his eyes moved to the window. I could see from all the
way across the office his face was red, probably with anger and embarrassment,
but unfortunately, as his eyes scanned the space, they eventually locked on me.
Oh hell.
I didn’t know what to do, but turning my head quickly like I
was guilty of something I didn’t think was smart. So I held his gaze for a
beat, before shifting my attention back to my work.
“We knew that was gonna happen,” Samantha, one of
the other two paralegals in the conference room with me, said under her breath.
“Fuck around and find out,” Robin, the other paralegal,
replied.
“Literally,” Samantha added.
The door opened and we all looked that way.
Jeffrey was in it.
“Malia. My office. Now.”
He turned on his heel and stormed through the cubbies toward
his office.
With Samantha and Robin staring at me, I got up and followed
him.
“Close the door,” he snapped when I made it to his office.
I closed the door and stood in front of it.
“Did you defy my direct orders about our client, Remostros?” he asked.
“Sorry?” I asked back.
“Remostros. I told you to let that
lie and keep it confidential. Did you speak to anyone about it?”
“I…” I faked confusion. “Wait, you mean that empty file?”
“Yes,” he said through his teeth.
“Honestly, I didn’t think anything about it. I mean, it was
empty, and you said you’d handle it and I’ve been busy with other things.” I
looked to the door behind me, still faking it, then back to him. “Did I mess
up? Is something wrong? Did you need my assistance with something on that?”
He visibly ground his teeth before he kept talking through
them. “No. It’s fine. Get back to that discovery.”
I nodded, but still faking it, I asked with concern, “Are
you okay?”
“I’m fine,” he forced out. “Thank you. But that discovery
needs your attention.”
“Of course,” I murmured, then lit out of there trying not to
look like I was lighting out of there.
Samantha gave it some time after I
returned before she asked, “What was that?”
“My guess, he fucked around and found out,” I told her.
She smiled.
I got to work.
I’d learned to keep the Bluetooth bud in my ear when I was
in the car, considering I was a Rock Chick now, and they knew I didn’t have
time at work to field calls, but they were rabid communicators. And it wasn’t
all just invitations. It was also that they needed style advice, or to complain
about their hot guys and how their overabundance of testosterone made them
behave, or just to shoot the shit.
I liked it.
I’d missed it.
I’d had a big posse in high school, and I loved having that
back.
But this time, on my way home that evening, it was me who
called Ally.
“Yo, chickie,”
she answered.
“The shit hit the fan today at work.”
Now she was faking it. “Did it?”
“Ally, after Carrie, the woman he’s cheating on his wife
with, shouted at him in his office, he came right to me and asked about Remostros.”
“What’d you say?”
“I pretended I forgot all about it.”
“Good.”
“But he latched right onto me,” I told her.
“Assholes like him need someone to blame, considering, in
their minds, they can do no wrong. He’s looking for someone to blame.”
“Should I be worried?”
“It’s impossible for this to blow back on you.”
“He can fire me, Ally.”
“He has to have cause, Malia.”
“It’s an employment-at-will state.”
“That’s bullshit, and you above everyone knows it. That
protects an employer only so far. And when you’re lashing out because you got
caught with your dick in a woman not your wife at the same time you’re moving
marital assets to hide them from said wife, you best not be firing a valued
employee in retaliation for some slight you have zero evidence she gave you.”
I blew out a breath.
Because she was right.
“Just be cool. He’ll turn his attention to someone else,”
Ally advised.
“All right.”
“See you at Liam’s game on Friday. Ren and I are coming.”
“Great, see you then.”
We hung up and I’d almost made it home without another RC
interaction before my phone rang.
Tod.
I smiled and answered, “Hey, Tod.”
“Fuchsia, tea rose and lilac blue,” he replied.
I thought about it.
“Don’t answer now,” he said into my thoughts. “I found a
bouquet. It…is…life. I’m inspired. I’ll text you a picture. Byeeeeee.” With that, he hung up.
I smiled again, and as I was pulling into the garage, I got
a bing on my phone that I had a text.
Once I parked, I pulled it out and looked at it.
Tod was right.
That bouquet was life.
Now I was inspired.
And excited.
My fluffy happy-goodness cloud grew even fluffier.
I texted, Roll with it.
Then I texted, Does it have Toni’s approval?
I hit the remote to lower the garage door, grabbed my purse
and headed to the house.
Halfway there, I got a return text from Tod that read, Of
course it does! You’ll be a goddess. I swear. It’s perfect!
I’d seen some of the pictures of the other RCHB weddings.
I trusted him.
I hit the back door, the laundry room, but stopped dead in
the doorway to the kitchen.
Because Darius wasn’t cooking.
Darius wasn’t doing anything but sitting at a stool by the
island, a full wineglass and an open bottle beside him, staring at me like he
wanted to murder me.