Page 23 of Ruthless Boss

Whenever it's Zenovia's birthday, I give her cold, hard cash or an extremely generous gift card. I can't give Lucia cash after sleeping with her—it wouldn't go over well. A gift card isn't as dangerous, but I need to know what stores she prefers first.

Still, a part of me insists that's not enough. She's spending every moment with AJ, and she deserves better.

They join us, followed by the doctor, and I buy time.

By the end of the day, I'll make it special for her so that she won't forget.

13

Gia

"Thanks for helping me," Zenovia says as I unload the last dish from the dishwasher and put it in the cupboard.

"Anytime," I say.

"You're a lot better than the old broad who broke her hip," she says in her heavy Russian accent. She wears deep red lipstick, contrasting her pale white skin and lustrous black hair. Everything about her is iconic. She's a confident, grumpy, and attractive woman in her thirties.

Zenovia doesn't mince words and isn't into the whole sprinkle kindness-like glitter mentality. Well, that's an understatement. But she's authentic, and I appreciate that.

I wish I could say the same about myself.

You're a lot better than the old broad who broke her hip.That isn't necessarily what I want to hear on my birthday. When I was at the pediatrician's office earlier, and the nurse wore a birthday button, I foolishly told her it was my birthday. It felt good to say that to someone. No one cared, but she smiled and wished me well. That's the extent of my celebration.

My mom always baked a cake for me.

Then she died, and I simply bought a cake. Ciro didn’t give a shit.

I never made friends after my marriage or kept the ones I had prior because I didn't want anyone to witness my misery or be dragged into it. I hate when people feel sorry for me—my pride is one of the few things I have left.

"Is Dante home?" I toss the rag on the counter. "I haven't seen him."

"Not yet," Zenovia says. "I wonder if he's out with women again."

A rush of jealousy runs through me. When I worked for him, I didn't hear any conversation about him seeing anyone. Thankfully, he never brought any girl over. But he goes out, works, whatever. He can meet them anywhere. "Did that happen a lot?"

"He doesn't usually bring women home, but he used to go out a lot more. Before AJ came along."

"I guess I can't blame him. He's rich and hot," I say in a voice that doesn't show much interest.

She whistles. "Yeah. That's what I say… Kids ruin your life."

Harsh. I try to lighten the mood. "Aw. Don't you love little AJ, though? She's so cute."

"Yeah, she's cute, but I can't deal with kids," she says, and I could have guessed that. Since I started this job, Zenovia has never offered to help me with AJ. She smiles at her, and that's the extent of it. "I like my space. Came from a tough childhood and fought for everything. I'm not willing to give it all away, you know?"

"I fully understand." I lie. Besides not having a father, I had everything when I grew up. A loving mom, a good school, and friends. I never had to fight for these things—even though they were taken away much later in life when I became an adult.

I shake my head. I'm sure Zenovia had it much worse, though—going through trials at such a young age.

"I know you do," she says, her eyes fixed on me. "In a way, we're more similar than you think."

"How so?" I take a step back, and my breath catches in my throat. Does she know who I am? She can't. She would have said something or told me to Dante.

"I'm a survivor. Takes one to know one."

I smooth my hands over my cotton shirt. Oh. That's what she means.

Since I've not had female friends for so long, I've become bad at reading clues.

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