Page 7 of Abyss

“We need to find a replacement for you. Put everything else aside and make it top priority. If we can find someone in the next week or so, hopefully you’ll have enough time to train them.”

She walks ahead of me, heels tapping on the tile, and I try to avoid the empty office across the hall from mine. Let me rephrase: I can’t glance at it without balling my fists so tight, I might draw blood from my palms. Even after two years, the stench of betrayal lingers heavily around it, threatening to seep into the walls.

I’ve always run a tight ship, demanding exemplary performanceand unwavering dedication, but after the way shit went down two years ago . . . let’s just say, I’ve taken any hint of leniency completely off the table. Now, I value loyalty as much as hard work.

Belinda speaks over her shoulder. “It’s easy for you to say, but interviews, background checks, HR approvals . . . they all take time. And let’s not even mention your stellar track record with admins—”

“Hey, you’ve stuck around for three years.”

She shoots me a wry look. “Count your blessings.” At the slight lift of my lips, she continues, “You’d already fired three admins before me, and when I took one month off last year to go on my honeymoon, you fired the temp!”

“He started off our staff meeting by asking everyone to express how they felt that day using emojis.”

Belinda presses her lips together like she’s trying not to laugh. “In any case, I need to add ‘emotional resilience’ to the job requirements.”

Something in her words triggers an image in my mind—a face I haven’t been able to erase from my thoughts for three days.

The way a single tear rolled over the bottom of her lid before falling on my hand, burning my skin like it was acid. The fear and uncertainty in her amber-colored eyes. The glint of a tiny diamond on the right side of her upper lip.

Her anxiety was palpable through her shaky hands and her stuttered words. And the asshole in me—the one who failed to acknowledge the fact that she was probably half my age—couldn’t stop myself from homing in on the way her lips trembled, the way they parted when our eyes connected.

And those fucking hands hesitantly trying to mop up the ice water she’d spilled on my lap . . .?

Jesus. There was no reason for the raging boner I had,given my dick was practically frozen inside my pants, but clearly my brain wasn’t in charge of my body.

It wasn’t until my friend Dev’s snickering reached across the table that I snapped out of whatever trance I was in. I noticed her bent over with her face practically in my crotch, her ass inside that short-as-fuck skirt on full display for the entire restaurant.

And I saw red.

I’d already had a hellish workday, and my mood was at an all-time low. My irritation spiked, overshadowing the impending migraine from a damn cork launched at my head.

What I wanted to do was tell her to go put some fucking clothes on, to stop waving her ass in the air for the table of men behind her, who were more than happy to get an eyeful. But what I ended up saying left a bitter taste in my mouth afterward. Like those words shouldn’t have even formed in the first place.

“That’s about all the incompetence this restaurant can handle for one day. Please turn in your badge and clock out. This will be your last day working here.”

A part of me wanted to take them back, especially as I watched her walk away, shoulders deflated. But I couldn’t.

Because who would I be if I couldn’t stand by my words? If I didn’t follow through? If I let things slide, even once?

Isn’t that how I got into my current predicament, by letting things slide? I can’t even look at the damn office that’s been empty for two years.

Belinda’s voice snaps me out of my thoughts. “Hurry up and get out of here before Madison starts blowing up my phone looking for you.”

I’m just about to enter the elevator when Belinda rushes over, making me worry she’s going to topple. “Oh! I wanted to ask, do you need anything for your meeting in Portlandtomorrow? I already have you checked in on your morning flight.”

I shake my head. “I’m all set. Now, will you please stop working?”

She huffs, “I will as soon as you find me a replacement.” Her brows rise, a hopeful look in her eyes. “Who knows, maybe we’ll have the perfect person walking through these elevator doors on Monday.”

Maddy cutsa piece of her salmon before forking it into her mouth and taking the last sip of her Sauvignon Blanc. Both our waters need refilling as well.

My gaze travels around the restaurant, looking for Stella, and I exhale a frustrated breath. She’s been rather inattentive with our table today, and I’m inclined to put her on the spot the next time she comes over. This is not the type of service I expect at my restaur—

“Dad,” Maddy’s voice steals my attention. “It’s a busy Thursday night, and I’m not going to die without a refill on my wine. Stop looking around for Stella; she’ll come by soon enough.” She takes another bite of her salmon before looking at my empty plate. I’d devoured my entire meal ten minutes ago. “Gramps would have loved this place, you know. He would have been proud of everything you and Uncle Jett have accomplished.”

She studies my reaction carefully, surely noticing the way I tense at the mention of my younger brother and co-owner of this restaurant. But because the last thing I want to do is rehash my complicated feelings about my brother and his betrayal, I simply nod.

She’s right; Dad would have been proud.

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