Page 67 of Fauxmance in the City

“What’s the matter?” Natalie asks.

“They’re not here.” I sink into the white leather sofa.

I think of where else they might be in the building, but nothing comes to me. I text Max, telling him to contact Charles and ask where they are.

If this fails, I won’t be allowed back into my office to collect my belongings. Some lackey will pack up my things. I shudder to think about what’ll get damaged in the process.

My feet drag as I make my way down several floors to the Simply Chic offices, awaiting Max’s response. I grab a filing box, dump out the papers inside, and Natalie and I fill it up with my items. I stare longingly at my Marjorie Skouras beaded light fixture in the ceiling, but I don’t have time to get an electrician in to disconnect it and bring it home. It’ll have to stay behind, along with my Mark Albrecht desk chair.

Two familiar voices are arguing down the hallway, and I pop my head out.

“Our car’s here.” Gillian walks down the hallway with Charles.

A text from Max comes in. Charles is bringing her to you.

I duck back into my office, bouncing on my toes. Oh God, oh God, oh God.

“Why did you drag me down here? I—”

“Shut up and go into Mrs. Bloom’s office,” Charles says.

My door flings open, and Gillian stands in the frame. “What the hell are you doing here? I fired you.”

“I—” All the arguments I had fly out of my head.

“You fired the poor girl?” Charles asks, feigning surprise. This is all part of the plan.

“She’s a fraud, Charles. Samuel Harding isn’t her husband. My God, look at this office. She’s meant to be tidier than Marie Kondo, and it’s a horse’s sty.”

Gillian sweeps her hand toward the mess of papers on my desk, the overturned garbage can, and the piles of books, magazines, and boxes all over the floor.

“Pigsty,” Charles corrects, and Gillian glares. “So she’s out of her contract?”

“Yes. She’s fraudulent.”

“Wonderful. Catie, since you’re available, I’d like to offer you a permanent position on the morning show.” Charles smiles placidly, but there’s a glint in his eyes. He’s enjoying punishing Gillian. My instincts were right.

“How can you even consider hiring her?” Gillian roars, her full attention on Charles.

“I don’t have the same scruples as you, Saint Gillian. I was impressed with Catie during the shoot.” Charles winks at me. “I spoke to the network last night, and they want me to snatch her up before another network snags her first. You’ve done me a favor,” he says with a smug smile.

“I’ve been begging you to take one of my people on for years. Of course, you offer the job to the one person I just fired.” Gillian glowers, and her gaze narrows into daggers. “Maybe I won’t fire her.”

“You can’t go back on your word,” Charles says, sounding alarmed.

“Watch me,” Gillian says, then flings her weaponized gaze at me. “You’re not fired. But there will be tight rules, young lady.”

“I can’t accept,” I say, my voice calm but my stomach sick, terrified this last play will be too much.

“What?” Natalie asks from her perch on the sofa arm, where she’s been watching the interaction. “Catie, don’t be stupid.”

I hold back a smile. Natalie is very convincing.

“I’m being smart,” I say. “The offer from Charles sounds much more lucrative.”

She exhales loudly. “What will it take? More money? Because that’s not happening.”

“No. Patrick and Sam keep their jobs.”

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