Page 57 of Fake Out

With that, he dismisses me with a wave of his hand.

“I’m not letting Charlie go,” I say, not moving.

This isn’t about Charlie. If Isaac had never seen that video, I’m sure he would have found some way to deny my advancement in the company.

Isaac’s upper lip curls. “Have it your way, then. You?—”

“I quit,” I spit out before he can say another word.

His eyes widen momentarily, before the cool, collected facade returns.

“You what?” he asks, almost amused.

“I said I quit. You don’t own me, Isaac.” I spin around and walk away, my pulse thundering in my ears.

Isaac’s voice follows me out the door. “You’ll regret this, Marissa!”

I don’t look back.

I step out of the building, my heart thudding against my chest as if it wants to escape. My cheeks are hot and flushed from the confrontation.

I want to feel relief. I just left a job where I would only be held back.

I feel nothing of the sort, though. Instead, I feel lost.

Confused.

Alone.

It doesn’t matter that I’m not with the agency anymore. Isaac can still just give Charlie to Darren.

Which leaves me not only without an employer but also without a single client.

I might as well have just stepped five years back in time.

Getting into my car, I sink into the seat and close my eyes. I either just made the best decision of my life… or the worst.

CHAPTER 25

CHARLIE

It’s been hours since I last spoke with Marissa, and I can’t stop staring at my silent phone. She hasn’t responded to any of my messages, which is unsettling because she’s usually so punctual.

I’ve sent her texts asking what she would like for dinner, what time to expect her, and how she is doing. No responses. I’ve called her several times, but she hasn’t answered. At this point, my gut is churning with worry.

“Come on, Marissa,” I mutter under my breath as I pace by the window. “Where are you?”

I pace the hardwood floor, my sneakers tapping out a rhythm that does nothing to ease my worry. It’s not like Marissa to just ignore me like this. Something must be wrong, and every possible worst-case scenario is hammering away in my head.

As if on cue, my phone rings. My heart leaps into my throat, but when I glance down at the screen, it’s Isaac’s name staring back at me.

“Hey, Isaac,” I answer hesitantly, hoping he has some news about Marissa.

“Charlie,” he says curtly. “I’m calling to inform you that you’ll be working with a different agent from now on.”

I frown, confusion momentarily overtaking my concern for Marissa. “Wait, what? Why?”

He sighs, clearly annoyed. “It’s not up for discussion. You’ll receive more information tomorrow.”

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