Page 72 of Catfish

Red.

Fuck. My. Life.

"Great talk, gentlemen." I gesture for Viola. "Do you mind if I talk to you about the rest of tonight's plans?" Viola hesitates for a moment at my curt change of subject before both hillbillies glance back at each other.

“Of course, Governor.”

I walk away from Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum, letting Viola follow me as instructed.

Finding the kitchen, I wait for her to walk in, for the two swinging doors to come to a halt before I open my mouth to tell her my next plan for the future.

“You’re fired,” I divulge before pivoting on my feet to face her.

“What?” Her eyes are already bulging out of her head, making her crow’s feet deepen as she stands aghast in front of me.

I’m already nodding for the security I gestured in to follow us take her the hell out of here.

“Wait—” She raises her hand in silent surrender. “—I’ve worked for this family for decades. You can’t just fire me.” Two pairs of beefy hands grab each one of her arms to lead her out. “Get your hands off me.”

"I'm keeping the donkey," I call out after her while her voice squelches the more she talks and bitches about being manhandled and assaulted.

The aluminum kitchen doors swing open before Emmy appears only moments later—frazzled, out of breath, like she just ran a mile in heels.

My brows dip. “What the hell happened to you?”

She lets out a harsh breath. “What happened to you? Are you seriously trying to leave already?”

“No.”

She expands her arms as she strides toward me. “Then what are you doing in the kitchen?”

“I promised I would behave and didn’t want to make a scene. I fired Viola, so, you’re welcome.”

Her eyes widen. “You fired Viola?” I nod. “Seriously?”

“Yes, Em, do you want me to show you what the word means?” Her arms suddenly flare around me as she squeezes me in a hug.

“You are the best, and I don't care if this is breaking an employee-boss rule. I'm so freaking happy."

I let her have two more seconds before I’m shrugging her off. “Alright, get off me before I have your friend in HR file a sexual assault suit on your ass.”

Em lifts off her toes and claps her hands together. “Does that mean I get Reagan Shelton?”

Oh fuck.

“No.” I want to add in “absolutely fucking not” but resist the urge.

I’m restraining from a lot of urges now that Em mentioned the woman’s name that I would like nothing more than to work with, touch, kiss, and fuck.

Not happening for the millionth time.

Em furrows her brows, casting a displeased expression in my direction like I give a fuck. “No, that’s who I want.”

“Fully aware.”

“Let me at least interview her.” Her shoulders slump next like a snotty kid.

“Don’t be a pain in my ass,” I deadpan.

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