Page 35 of Rhet

I pick up my watch and slap it on my wrist. “She’s late and I don’t do excuses.”

He laughs. “She’s fired before she even starts.”

“She sure fucking is.” I bend to take my phone off my bed.

There’s a tightness in my chest from the thought of firing her. I smooth my tie and take a final look in the mirror before I leave my room and walk down the stairs to the kitchen.

“I told the guards not to open the gate if she comes,” I admit as I go.

“You really fired the team you found sleeping on the job?” Dax questions with humor in his voice.

“Yup, I hired a new team. They should be out there. If they aren’t, I’ll fire them too.”

I run down my stairs and take an immediate left.

There’s a pause, which usually means Dax is thinking. “Do what you must. We know I’ve fired more for less. However, I get this feeling you’re not going to fire her.”

“Do you know who you’re talking to?”

“A fucking twat, but what’s new?” he replies.

“Your mom wants this twat. Remember that,” I reply enjoying the banter with my old friend.

“Fuck you, Rhet. We both know it’s more like your mom wants me.”

I go to the fridge to take out the milk. A scream carries over the heavy rain fall.

“Fuck. Dax, I’ll call you back.” I hang up the phone, put down the milk, and rush to the front door.

As I open it, a wet body pushes passes me and dives inside onto my marble floors like an NFL player going in for a touchdown.

My dogs stop when they see me. Then bend to see through my legs, looking for their prey, while growling softly. I turn to look for their target too.

She’s currently drenched, with one shoe missing. Hell, her whole body looks like she has been dunked into a pool. She holds a cup tightly against her chest.

“Pinky, Muffin, stop. Come. Sit.” I open the door wide and my dogs trot in, their eyes remaining on the hot mess on my floor. They stand at each of my sides. I pet the top of both their heads. “You’re such good girls.”

Zeeta sits up slowly and comes to a full stance, holding her chest as she breathes hard.

“You named your satanic, blood thirsty, murderous dogs Pinky and Muffin? Are you fucking insane?”

I stare down at her while my dogs lick my fingers.

“Is that going to be a problem?” I ask.

“The dogs or your insanity?” she inquires

The words are barely out when I see something that causes me great annoyance. She kicks off her shoe as I approach her. I snatch the white and pink cup out of her hand and sniff it.

I instantly want to gag. Cheap coffee. She messed up my coffee. No, she has to go.

“You’re fucking fired. Get out.” I turn and walk away.

Footsteps slap against my floor as she walks behind me into the kitchen.

“No, you can’t fire me,” she screeches.

“I just did.”

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