Page 8 of Serving the CEO

“I just got fired,” she said in a quavering voice. She eased away and shot me an apologetic smile. “No hugs. I’m already about to fall apart and don’t want to do it here.”

“You gotfired?” I gaped at her, not wanting to believe what I was hearing. I glanced around, glad to see that no one else seemed to pay any attention to us. “Is this over that thing we talked about on the subway?”

“Yeah. Apparently, I didn’t catch my mistake fast enough. I might not have cost the company money, but I cost us time.” Bitterness tinged the words, and she shook her head, anger flashing alongside the hurt in her eyes. “I have to get out of here before I scream.”

“This isn’t fair.” Even as I said it, I knew it sounded foolish. Life wasn’t fair. But damn it, she’d caught the mistake, and still got fired. “I’m going to say something. This just isn’t right.”

“No.” She caught my hands, shaking her head. “I’ll find something…you can’t involve yourself with this, Jess, not with your parents’ situation. They’re going to need you now more than ever.”

I glared at her. “You weren’t the only person who worked on that project. Other people had eyes on that, and they didn’t discover the mistake.Youdid, and you’re the one who’s getting kicked to the curb?”

“I know.” Her eyes pleaded with me. “But this came from the top. There’s no way around it.”

“The top…?” I clenched my jaw as I realized what she meant. “You mean Thomas.”

I couldn’t believe it. Derrick Thomas, the owner and CEO of our publishing house, had fired my best friend, himself.

Mother. Fucking. Bastard.

She nodded jerkily and looked around, as if expecting him to suddenly appear and demand to know why she was still here.

I wouldn’t have put it past the asshole, but no one was nearby.

“You can’t risk jeopardizing your job over me,” she repeated. “I can’t have you worrying about me.”

Anger burned in me, and I squeezed her hands. Damn it, she was right. As much as I wanted to help her, I could only spread myself so thin. “Fine. We’ll talk about this later. We’ll do happy hour at home so we can vent and drink as much as we want.”

“Get ice cream,” she said. “I’m going to need it, and there’s no way I can handle a conversation with Mrs. Yen if I try to swing into the store right now.”

Mrs. Yen rang the little grocery store where we did most of our light shopping, and she was a sweetheart, but she was also a gossip who could talk your ear off—definitely not who I wanted to see on a crappy day.

“Chips and salsa from our favorite place,” I said. “Then tequila for the margaritas and three kinds of ice cream. We’ll make ourselves sick. Sounds like fun. You go home. Take a bath. Sleep. Cry.” I hugged her, furious but not knowing how we’d fix this. “We’ll figure out something.”

She nodded, turned to her desk, and continued putting her things in a box methodically. I felt awful. I wanted to stay with her, but I had the cover conference, which was happening…now. Shit. I was already running behind, and after this meeting, I was supposed to meet with the agent representing Bristol Hayden, the author I hoped to sign soon. Even if I didn’t care about my job, other people were relying on me, and I couldn’t let them down.

With one last worried look at Jami, I slipped into the elevator to head to the conference room one floor up. Thankful that the elevator was empty, I used the short ride to regain my composure. My reflection in the elevator door was warped, but I smoothed down my shoulder-length curls and checked my dress for wrinkles. I was fair enough that my cheeks were still noticeably flushed, but I still looked presentable.

Hopefully, Derrick Thomas wouldn’t be around to make assumptions or fire me for not being early to a meeting. I was only being half-sarcastic. Jami was right, after all. I needed to hold on to my job.

But I wasn’t sure I could avoid glaring a hole through Derrick––the dick––right now. If he appeared at this meeting, I didn’t know if the consequences would be enough to keep me from doing or saying something I’d regret.

I’d never liked Derrick Thomas, exactly, but this was the first time I felt actual hatred toward the man.

Gorgeous, scary,andan exacting prick who didn’t tolerate asinglemistake. The sort of man who would pick a scapegoat to fire rather than addressing an entire group of people to determine how to prevent a future mistake. I sighed and shook my head as the elevator doors dinged open.

* * *

“Do you think Bristol could write several books in a similar vein?”

Imani Anders, a tall, statuesque woman with a laugh as bold and bright as her smile, beamed at me, looking delighted that I’d asked.

“Ms. Ellis, not onlycouldshe—my client is dying to dojustthat. She has outlines for two more books and notes for at least one more.”

“Ohhhh…” Excited, I leaned forward. “Care to elaborate?”

Imani pursed her lips and echoed my posture. “Absolutely…once we have a contract offer.”

I laughed. “I completely understand.”

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