Page 38 of The Enemy

Marie stepped in, managing my department and her own, meaning she relied heavily on me to do the heavy work. She did that for about a year until I could do it all on my own. Things at work didn’t get better, but I had stopped trying to win over people. I didn’t need them to like me, I needed them to respect me if I wanted to be head of this company one day.

No one ever bothered to like the men they worked for as long as they got paid. Why the hell was there such a double standard for women? A strict male boss was responsible, he cared about his job. On the other hand, I was a frigid bitch.

Marie walked down into my office right before noon.

“You ready for lunch, darling?”

“Yes, let me just finish attaching these files so I can send these reports,” I said without looking up at her. “You wantto know something? I always thought I would end up in accounting, maybe business relations because marketing was the last thing on my mind, but now I can’t picture myself in any other department.”

“You’re brilliant when it comes to marketing. Standing against your grandfather and shifting to the market while still keeping things classy was genius.”

“Tell that to my seven-percent margin increase,” I mumbled bitterly.

Marie scoffed.

“Those old men will make any of your accomplishments taste like ash if you let them.”

She wasn’t wrong.

“Okay, all sent, let’s go. I’m starving.”

“Did you forget to grocery shop again?”

She gave me a stern look. Marie was known for sending grocery delivery services to my apartment one or twice a month to make sure I was eating more than just takeout.

“Hey, my girl dinner wasn’t all that bad.”

She shook her head.

“If your mother were here, she would have scolded you already.”

The first time she had mentioned my mother so casually, my eyes had watered. We had been working late, one month after Neo had left, and I guess my feelings were so fresh and raw that I couldn’t hold my emotions in.

Now, when she did it I couldn’t help but smile at how bittersweet it felt. My mother passed on, but her memory lived in those who loved her.

“She would have. Actually, she might have chewed us both a new one, at how much we have been eating atThe Parrilla.All that lard can’t be good for our cholesterol.”

“Honey, I watch what I eat all week so I can let go when I’m there.”

“Okay, done,” I said.

We grabbed an Uber since parking on that side of town was a bitch, and our cars were so flashy they called for attention. But if you wanted good, authentic Mexican food, that was the side of town you went to get it.

I was used to my mom’s cooking, so whenever someone gave me a taco, and it had a hard shell, I judged. If it had a flour tortilla, I judged. And if the corn tortilla was undercooked, you bet your ass I judged that too.

Now, if you gave me tacos and the tortilla was fried just right, well, I practically fell in love. La Parilla had all that and more, and they were highly authentic in how they cooked their food.

I grabbed my purse and then walked out of my office, noticing most of my department had already disappeared for lunch.

Days when I didn’t run into Priscilla were always the best.

The food was tasty, and because it was Friday and I had kicked ass for another week, I allowed myself a paloma. I was mid-sip, enjoying my happy hour, when Marie casually let a bomb drop.

“Do you think the meeting we have scheduled for Monday morning is because your brother is back?”

I choked on my drink.

“W-what brother?” I wheezed.

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