"I do not," I said. "AllIknow is I'm getting a little tired of you telling me that I know things when I don't."
On that note, I also didn't know why we were arguing out here in the hallway. So far, we'd been incredibly lucky that no one had come out to look, but our luck couldn’t last forever, especially given the fiasco from earlier.
I looked past him, into his room. The bed was made, and everything was in pristine condition. The way it looked, he hadn't slept there at all. Either that or he had his own personal maid, which, of course, wasn't out of the realm of possibility.
When his only response was an icy stare, I said, "Seriously, you can't just fire me and not give a reason."
"Wrong," he said. "I can. And I did."
"But—"
"You remember what I told you."
"Yeah. Nothing."
Speaking slowly and deliberately, he said, "Read the fine print.Always."
And there he was, the prick I'd known all along. I muttered, "I should've known."
"Yeah," he said. "You should've."
I glared up at him. "And here's another question. Why do people at work have the impression that we're sleeping together?"
He frowned. "If they do, it's the first I've heard of it."
"Oh come on, at least be honest. Did you – or did you not – give Boris Feldman, that bedding guy from Cincinnati–"
"Iknowwho he is."
"Good," I said. "So why'd you him tell that I'm your mistress?"
"Mistress?"
"You know. Your side-squeeze or whatever you'd call it."
Zane looked down and muttered, "Shit."
"So you did?"
He looked up. "No. I didn't."
There was something he wasn't telling me. That much was obvious. I made a forwarding motion with my hand. "But…?"
He gave a loose shrug. "But yeah, he might've gotten that impression."
"How?"
Zane gave another shrug, but said nothing.
I made a sound of impatience. "Well?"
"The guy's a pig."
This, I believed. I'd participated in exactly one meeting with the guy, and he'd been more focused on my breasts than the paperwork that he was supposed to be signing.
But that wasn't the point. I looked to Zane and said, "So?"
"And married."