Total pages in book: 144
Estimated words: 147415 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 737(@200wpm)___ 590(@250wpm)___ 491(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147415 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 737(@200wpm)___ 590(@250wpm)___ 491(@300wpm)
It’s almost too good.
The way he’s damned himself dawns on his face with a delightful slowness as it slowly sinks in. He’s just shot his own legs off.
“A little friendly advice.” I fold my arms, staring him down. “If you’re going to lose your temper like a ten-year-old, don’t do it in front of people who can bury you alive.”
He’s flushed red and speechless, his mouth moving like a fish out of water.
All that fuckwit righteous anger fades right out of him as he staggers back. “You... you can’t do this. Recording people against their will—”
“Oh, you’re a lawyer now? Did you even read the terms of employment the day you signed on?” I raise my eyebrows and his shoulders slouch. “Go ahead. Remind me of all the ways I’ve infringed your rights, Mark Cantor.”
He says nothing as his face drops.
“Also, for the record, your salary is thirty percent above living wage and includes quarterly bonuses,” I say. “That’s ninety percent above the going rate for interns in the Seatac area. It was, considering your position, incredibly generous. Now, it’s revoked. Consider yourself terminated immediately.”
Goddamn, that feels good.
Hannah nods. “I’ll have the paperwork sorted tonight with HR.”
Mark starts to slink off, but not before I call after him.
“I suggest you plan on a late night finding a lawyer.” I let myself smirk as he turns back to glower at me. “I should probably also thank you for the ironclad evidence you provided against Miss Cerva. This simplifies everything.”
It does, and I should be reveling in it.
But it can’t silence every disgusting whisper online instantly.
It can’t undo the insinuations that make Destiny Lancaster look like a rich girl who traded her body for a leg up.
“Go on,” I snarl, mostly for my benefit before I do something I can’t take back.
The blood drains from his cheeks and his neck goes splotchy.
“You won’t win this,” he flings back. “Y-you can’t. Just wait and see.”
I give him a subzero smile.
Right now, I’m perfectly capable of wringing his scrawny little neck, but that’s not going to help anything.
“I can and I will. I’ll be pressing the highest level criminal charges against you for theft and stalking.”
“What? Criminal? No, I—” His throat bobs as his voice breaks off. He has nothing left to say as fear chokes him. “I’ll... I’ll get a lawyer.”
“Let’s hope it’s a good one,” I growl.
With one last frazzled stare, he turns and starts moving.
I hold up a hand and look at Hannah. “Wait until he’s in the lobby. It’s always the timing that counts.”
With a neat shrug, she leans against the wall, counting in her head.
Approximately thirty seconds later, she taps her phone a few times and holds it up to her ear.
“Hello, security. Hi, this is Hannah Cho from the executive office and I’d like to report a theft on company premises. Yes, he’s still in the building. The police are standing by? Wonderful.”
18
A Little Like Goodbye (Destiny)
It has been a weird, hectic few days.
The whole office is in a flurry, but I can’t get a word out of anyone explaining why.
Carol tells me it’s over her head and above her pay grade. She’s not privy to any details.
Rebecca tells me it’s all very hush-hush, and whatever wheels are moving are known only to executive and legal.
Yes, it involves a major legal case. That’s the only thing anyone seems to know.
And naturally, both Hannah and Shepherd are busy as ever, buried in calls and meetings related to quarterly earnings when they aren’t huddling up with lawyers.
My emails go unanswered.
Fine.
I get it.
If the company is embroiled in some major legal case, then it makes sense they’re both tied down putting out fires. I just wish I could get more than a vague you’ll know everything soon from Shepherd by text.
I have so many questions.
Like why I’m suddenly not sharing the office with Mark and his stuff is gone.
Sure, it’s a mildly pleasant surprise not having him hanging over my shoulder, making inane comments.
But it’s weird.
What happened? Why did he get canned so abruptly? Was he stealing pens by the truckload or hacking the vending machines?
No one seems to know.
A few people give my lonely little office odd looks when they see he’s gone, but I’m thinking they just miss the parade of pastries and bagels he’d always bring.
I try to pick up the slack once or twice, bringing in Regis rolls and boxes of coffee from Sweeter Grind. It can’t hurt to invest in a little goodwill around here.
I also press on alone, tackling the query pile for Corporate Giving, moving through polite rejections and sorting promising candidates for the higher-ups.
Onward and upward.
If I stay busy, maybe I won’t think about the quiet tremors happening under the surface at Home Shepherd, but of course, I still do.
How could I ignore them when I’m sure it relates to our trouble?