Page 43 of Vas

Vas clenched his jaw as a ball of anger settled in his gut. The motherfucker better not havetouchedher.

She stood then, poured herself another glass of champagne, and took a swig. She didn’t sit back down but started pacing. “I’d been working there for about six months when he asked me out.” She glanced at him and grimaced. “I knew what that meant. Hell, all the women who worked there knew what that meant. Of course, I said no. I’d thought I’d done it tactfully, explaining how he was my boss and that it didn’t feel like a good idea, but he didn’t take my rejection well. He made my life hell after that. Giving me the shittiest jobs. Making me work overtime. Thankfully, he drew the line at physical contact, but that was a double-edged sword because it left me with no excuse to report him to HR—connections or not.”

Vas sat very still, not daring to move a muscle for fear he’d explode.

“A few months passed in that fashion when he approached me again. Only that time he didn’t sugarcoat his proposition. He said he could make all the bad go away if I had sex with him.”

Vas’s hands fisted as he gritted, “That’s when you went to HR, correct?”

A loud clang filled the otherwise silent room as she forcefully set her glass down. She didn’t seem to notice the noise, anger now riding her emotions. “Yes. What little good that did.” She snorted. “I can only speculate, but it was apparentMarchad them in his back pocket. It would be arrogant to assume I’ve been the only employee he’s gone after over the years.”

It didn’t take a genius to figure out Marc had been her boss. Vas locked his facial muscles, curtailing the feral smile that wanted to make an appearance.

He now had the prick’s name.

“After my second rejection and the complaint to HR, that’s when the trouble really started. A large sum of money supposedly went missing, and Marc pointed the finger at me. I won’t go into detail about the days that followed. I don’t like thinking about it, much less talking about it. I’ll just say, by the end, the people who I thought were my friends turned their backs on me, and the job I had once loved was gone.” She started pacing again as if trying to expel her pent-up frustration. “I felt so betrayed after that.” She crossed her arms, hugging herself. “I still do.”

Vas stood and crossed the room to her, capturing her face in his hands. “You did nothing wrong.”

She blinked up at him a few times before her lids drifted closed and she dropped her forehead to his chest, speaking into it. “I know.”

He dove his fingers into her hair, bringing her closer and felt her arms wrap around his waist, holding on to him.

“It was weeks before I found another job, and with no reference, that’s how I ended up at Red’s.”

Vas wasn’t accustomed to comforting people, but running his fingers through the silky strands of Anya’s hair came naturally. She seemed to take solace in the action, snuggling closer into him. They stayed like that until the opening door broke them apart.

If their server sensed anything amiss, he didn’t show it, just went about setting the table with food.

“You okay?” Vas asked, studying her face.

“Yeah. I can’t say I’m over it, but I’m learning to move on.”

Vas gave her a short nod. He hoped that was true, and if not, he’d find a way to make it so.

“Everything looks and smells wonderful,” Anya said as she sat in the chair the waiter had pulled out for her.

“Herb-crusted roasted rack of lamb, sautéed scallops, and a tomato and feta salad,” the server announced before departing.

They ate their meal, picking up the thread of small talk they’d started in the car. Vas participated but his mind was preoccupied, mulling over what Anya had revealed.

“Everything okay? You seem distracted,” she said, sometime into their meal, calling him out on his bad behavior.

Vas looked down at his plate and noticed most of his meal was gone. He didn’t even remember eating it. “Sorry.” He pulled the napkin from his lap then wiped his mouth. He gave Anya a smile. “Are you ready for dessert?”

Tossing her napkin on the table, she sat back in her chair. “I don’t think I could eat another bite.”

“How about a walk on the beach then?”

“That sounds nice.”

He stood, helped her from her chair, then collected their jackets, helping her on with hers.

“Don’t we need to pay?” she asked as he led her from the restaurant.

“I already did, earlier when I picked out our meal.”

“You made a good choice, everything was delicious.”

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