Page 48 of Ruthless Serenade

"Okay!" she declares, then looks over her shoulder.

Her young nanny approaches, her eyes shifting between Sharon and me. She’s an attractive woman in her early twenties, with luscious dark hair and a kind face. But as she approaches us, there’s caution in her demeanor.

"There you are, sweetie," she addresses Sharon before glancing at me. "I hope she wasn’t bothering you, sir."

"Not at all." I stand up, towering over the two of them. "We were just discussing her story. She’s one brave little storyteller."

The woman seems taken aback. "She was… talking to you?" She gazes down at Sharon, who has suddenly become shyagain and is hiding behind the woman. "That’s… unusual. She only speaks to a select few people. Right Sharon?"

Sharon nods and looks up at me from behind her nanny.

"Well, we should be on our way now," the nanny says. "Say goodbye, Sharon."

"Bye, Mister," Sharon whispers.

"Bye, Sharon," I reply, pushing down an inexplicable emotion in my voice.

As I watch them walk away, my eyes remain fixed on the little girl for some unknown reason. Before they turn a corner and disappear for good, she turns back one last time to give me a small smile. A moment later, they’re gone.

And me?

I’m left here with a feeling of emptiness I don’t quite understand.

Chapter Eighteen

Mindy

I pull into the parking lot of Visionary Media.

I kill the engine, lean back in the driver’s seat, and stay like that for ten minutes. I can’t, for the life of me, bring myself to get out of my car. Not yet.

It’s the morning after I so spectacularly murdered my own career by projecting my nudes onto my company’s boardroom screen. I know what awaits me inside the office and my stomach is in knots. I’m here to get fired. I can already picture Christine’s icy stare as she hands me my walking papers. And that’s the best case scenario. I’m lucky if she doesn’t report me to the police for public indecency.

After gathering my strength, I take a deep breath, grab my purse, and force myself out of the car. Each step toward the building feels like I’m marching to my own execution.

To my surprise, my key card still works. Unlike at Global Media seven years ago. Christ, it’s like déjà vu - the same damn nudes coming back to haunt me seven years later.

It feels like a lifetime ago. Back then, my only concern was spicing up my love life with Maurice. Now, the only thing I can spice up are the meals I make for me and Sharon every day. It's like I’m a whole different person – in just seven years, I went from carefree chick to struggling single momma.

I push open the office door, bracing for impact, but the first thing I notice is Christine’s conspicuous absence. Instead, there’s Albert. He’s parked behind his wife’s desk, typing away on his computer.

"Good morning," I manage to croak out, but it’s like I’m invisible. Everyone’s got their heads down, furiously working like their lives depend on it. The only sounds are the hum of the air conditioner and the clacking of keyboards.

Something’s off. And seeing Albert in Christine's seat just adds to the weirdness of it all.

Of course, something’s off, Mindy.

Your presentation was off.

The entire company is off.

Maybe the Thompsons already decided to close down the whole operation.

For a moment, my mind imagines the meeting they must have had after my ‘presentation’. First, Mr. and Mrs. Thompson’s stare would have settled on Albert. "Mr. Solomon," Mr. Thompson would have said with an awkward cough. Then, he’d have turned his face toward Christine. "Mrs. Solomon." Another awkward cough. "I trust that no explanation is needed as to why this is unacceptable behavior for our company." Yet another awkward cough. "I’m afraid we cannot have employees publicly sharing risqué photos of themselves in the boardroom."

And with that, they’d have given us a deadline of thirty days to vacate the building. Or something along those lines.

Stop overthinking, Mindy.

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