Page 63 of One Bad Idea
For her, that is.
As for Jaden, he stalked back into his office and shut the door behind him.
I watched that door for a long moment, debating what to do next.
Should I barge in and demand to know if he was, in fact, trying to replace me?
Or should I wait and see how it played out?
My goal was to keep this job for at least a year. Today was only my second day.
I wasn't a gambling person, but it wasn't hard to figure out that my odds of keeping the job were a whole lot greater if I kept my head down and mouth shut.
Yes, I decided. That's exactly what I was going to do – nothing. Well, nothing except for my job.
I gave a slow nod.
Yup. That was definitely the way to play it. Nice and cool.
There was only one problem – Jaden.
What he did just a couple of hours later only added to my confusion.
Chapter 25
It was five o'clock, and I was standing in the building's main lobby, staring at my unexpected visitor. With a confused shake of my head, I asked, "What are you doing here?"
He gave me a toothy grin. "You can't guess?"
No. I couldn’t.
My visitor was Bryce Rogers, my old boss. His mane of silver hair was perfectly coiffed, and he was wearing a black business suit, along with a white shirt and black Texas tie.
I glanced around, wondering what I should do. It was the end of the business day, and all around me, employees were filing out, heading toward the main doors.
My visitor gave a hearty chuckle. "What's the matter?" he drawled in that country way of his. "Cat got your tongue?"
Funny, he hadn't been chuckling thelasttime I'd seen him. Rather, he'd been red-faced and yelling, telling me that if I actually walked out of his office, I shouldn’t bother walking back in, because my ass would be fired.
He hadn't cared that Cassidy was in trouble.
He hadn't cared that I'd worked three weeks straight without a single day off.
He hadn't even cared that I promised to make up the time – for free – if only he'd give me a day off to bring Cassidy back home.
No.Allhe'dcared about was his dry cleaning. And his correspondence. And the dinner party he'd been planning for the following Thursday.
Bryce was a country music producer who specialized in artists that were up-and-coming – mostly because a shocking number of them were too naïve to realize what a turd he was behind that big ol' smile of his.
Funny to think, I'd been just as naïve as the rest of them. Like an idiot, I'd actually believed that working for him would be my ultimate dream job. I loved country music. I loved the thought of meeting the artists up close and personal. Cripes, I even loved that smile of his, until I realized that he only used it when he wanted something.
I felt my gaze narrow. "No, the catdoesn'thave my tongue. I'm just wondering what you want."
He gave another chuckle. "Who says I want anything?"
"Well, you're here, aren't you?" I glanced toward the nearby bank of elevators. When the building's receptionist had called to inform me that I had a visitor, I'd been skeptical right from the get-go.
I'd been living in Florida for only two weeks, and I had no local friends other than Cassidy. Plus, I hadn't been working here long to have any appointments.
