Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 86573 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86573 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Gen leans back into my cubicle wall and sighs. “Well, I guess it could have been worse, he could have fired you.”
“He can’t fire me, because I’ve already resigned.” I bite the side of my cheek. “I am actually surprised he didn’t pack up my shit, though. I really thought that was going to happen.”
“Did he say why he didn’t?”
A sly smile passes over my lips. “George.”
Gen claps her hands and laughs. “Oh, freaking incompetent George. He’s going to be so lost without you.”
I do feel bad for George. Such a nice man, but he is going to struggle, big time.
“He might be slightly incompetent, but at least he knows when he has something good, unlike Rome.” I flick my hair over my shoulder causing Gen to laugh, just as my email dings with a message.
My eyes fall to my emails and on a message from Rome.
THE message.
I swivel my chair around, giving my computer my full attention. Whispering, I say, “Gen, it’s him.”
Making a gleeful noise, she scoots forward and quietly claps her hands together. “What does it say?”
Taking a deep breath, a ridiculous smile on my face, I open the email.
Gen and I both read at the same time.
From: RomeBlackburn@RoamInc.com
To: HandsRomingMyBody@RoamInc.com
Do you realize you called the CEO of this company a pompous ass in your last email? Keep slinging the insults. I can’t wait to watch your face fall flat when I catch you, because my pompous ass will be kicking your sorry ass out on the curb.
Enjoy your little emails now. They’re only getting you into more trouble.
RMB
I bite on the tip of my finger, getting a little nervous. “Uh, Gen?”
“Yeah?”
“You don’t think he can do more than fire me? Like, sue me or anything, right?” I nibble a nail.
Gen chuckles and shakes her head. “No way. He wouldn’t do that—it would be bad press. You have to read past his threats and look further into the meaning of this email. He’s testing you. He’s trying to scare you. He wants to see how serious you are. If he was serious about doing anything to truly end this, he would have a task force put together by IT to figure out where the email came from. There has been nothing. Believe me, he’s interested.”
“You think so?”
Gen nods her head and maneuvers my gaze back to the computer. “I know so. Message the bastard back.”
I think about it for a second. Should I really continue? I don’t want to start a new company with Rome Blackburn pissed off at me. I mean, he’s already furious, and if he found out I’m sending the emails, I think he might lose it, especially after what happened today.
He has the power to tarnish my reputation in this business. Is that something I’m willing to risk?
I think back to the intensity in his eyes, the way he vibrated with anger. But what I remember more is the small smirk I caught on his face as I left the boardroom.
I hold on to that image as I type back.
Feeling way too frisky for a Monday, I stand and hand Gen my phone. “Take a picture of my ass.”
“What?” Brow pinch together.
“Just do it. I have a plan.”
“Uh . . . okay.” She holds the phone up to my butt, and I turn sideways, showing its curve, and pop it out just a bit.
“Don’t get much background, just the butt.”
Thinking I’m mental, she takes the picture. I send it to myself through email. I have plans, big plans.
* * *
ROME
It’s been seventeen hours.
SEVENTEEN HOURS with that godforsaken email burning a hole in my inbox. I told myself I wouldn’t open it.
It wasn’t worth my time. And the little clip on the far right side, indicating an attachment, yeah, I don’t care about it either. It’s probably some weird picture of a glittering rose or something. A rose from my secret admirer. Some stupid girly shit like that.
I don’t need a fucking rose. I need to get my head out of my ass and work.
I sip my coffee, drum my fingers on the desk, flip my pen in my hand.
Stare at the email.
Sip my coffee.
Finger hovers over the email.
What if it isn’t some stupid glittering GIF? What if it’s a picture of her? Would she do that? Better yet, maybe it’s something more.
I grind my teeth together, weighing my options.
Goddammit.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I click on the email and plead for a rose.
Please, be a rose; please, be a rose. For the love of God, be a fuckin’ rose.
I peek my left eye open getting ready to be bedazzled by a GIF when at the bottom of the email, I see a preview of a picture.
A picture of a perfectly curvy and covered ass.
Shit.
Dragging my hand over my face, I let out a sharp breath and read her email.