Page 20 of Abyss

I would have handed it to him right after the mortifying conference room experience, but I figured I’d take the day to think about it—weigh it out before making a rash decision.

I waited for him all day to give me some semblance of a genuine apology, especially after he hurled his‘I’m sorry’at me like a worn-out, two-word script, before storming off like a petulant child. But when he raged at me, looking like an angry tomato, no less, after finding me in the restricted office for a routine maintenance issue, I decided enough was enough.

Yes, my family needed this money—fucking big time—but Mom would be appalled if she found out I was trading in my dignity and peace of mind for it.

Hadn’t I learned my lesson in high school to not let the bullies win?

Hadn’t I already lost so much?

Why put myself through something like that again? Why let my self-worth be determined by someone else’s impossiblestandards? Isn’t that exactly what I used to preach tohimwhen we were younger?

Sure, I’d have to find another job quickly. And if that meant scouring the job boards and doing something for a fraction of the pay, I’d rather do that than sit here all summer, shredding the little self-confidence I’ve worked so hard to hold on to.

With my heart knocking against my chest, I walk to the elevator with a sense of urgency and determination, trying to keep my feet from tripping on themselves. Every step shoots tremors through my body; every cell revolting, unsure of who I really am.

This isn’t me—this bold, self-assured imposter I’m pretending to be—but fuck, I don’t want to let her go just yet.

Taking in shuddered breaths, I step into the open elevator and press the button for the lobby when hurried footsteps come to a stop in front of the doors, and Mr. Case joins me inside.

Eyes widened, I try to find my words. “Wh—”

“I don’t accept.” With one hand in his pocket, he holds up the paper I’d left on his desk, now crumpled.

My mind goes blank and I blink. “I’m sorry? What do you mean, you don’t accept?”

The elevator doors close, and I’m trapped as we start descending the forty-two floors.

His nostrils flare as if it’s beneath him to have to repeat himself. The jackass. “I mean, I don’t accept. You’ve only been here two days. You haven’t even given this a real chance.”

I stare at him in complete bewilderment. Just hours ago, he was concocting situations for me to quit, yelling at me every chance he got, and now he claims I didn’t give the job areal chance?

“Are you on drugs?” I ask, because the question warrants asking.

He huffs out an exasperated breath. Exasperated! Ha! Like he should have anything to be exasperated about! “Drugs might be a good solution at this point.”

“What?” I lean in as if to glean some meaning behind his words.

“Never mind,” he says with a resigned shake of his head. “Like I said, I won’t accept your resignation.”

I squint, first at the floor and then at him. “Why? You can barely stand me. Notwithstanding your threat to fire me just earlier today, you’ve made it abundantly clear that you don’t want me here.”

He rakes a hand down his face. “We’re one final signature away from getting the RCS deal. Apparently, their CEO saw your updates and was impressed. He wants to meet the person who will be replacing Belinda for the next few months.”

My mouth falls open in a soft, “Ah,” as understanding settles my whirring thoughts. “Of course, that’s what it is . . . Youneedme to save this deal. Because what would your clients think if youstilldidn’t have a replacement for your admin after knowing all these months that she’d eventually take maternity leave?” I chuckle mirthlessly. “Well, good luck with that, Mr. Case.”

He doesn’t deign me with a response, both his hands now in his pockets as he stares up at the digital counter displaying each floor we’re passing.

And since he doesn’t have the courtesy of providing me with more than his silence, I don’t say anything, either. Until he glances down at me standing next to him. “So, will you stay?”

I bark out a laugh again. The balls on this guy!

“Perhaps you’re incapable of reading the room, or ablatantly clear resignation in this case, or maybe you’re being purposefully obtuse. Either way, let me state it in no uncertain terms. No, Mr. Case, I will not be staying.”

I’m jolted back a second later, my hands flying up as I try to find my balance when a warm hand wraps around my elbow, keeping me steady. I blink rapidly, realizing he’s pressed the emergency stop button. “Wha . . . what are you doing?”

Aren’t there cameras in here? Won’t that button set off an alarm or something?

Don’t people get murdered like this?

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