Page 7 of #Bossholes

Are you momming me?

He simply shrugs and rolls his eyes.Just pointing out the obvious.

I resist the urge to roll my eyes right back, barely, but I do.How was school?

It was school.Another shrug.Homework is done. History sucks.

And that girl from class you like?

A third shrug, but this time the tips of his ears are pink, and he doesn’t quite meet my eyes.She gave me her number. It’s no big deal. Don’t make it a thing.

Oh, I’m totally going to make this a thing.

I bust out the jazz hands and dance my way around the kitchen. And by dance, I mean flap my arms around like a demented chicken while kicking my legs in the air like I’m a Rockette. The more I move my legs, the more my hands flap around, the redder Colin’s face gets. It’s the most fun I’ve had all day.

You’re ridiculous. There’s another eye roll, but this time he has a smile stretched across his face. He tosses me one last look, shaking his head, before jumping off the barstool and disappearing into his room.

As soon as he leaves, I lay across the island with a groan, fully intent on grabbing another spoon and devouring the rest of the ice cream before starting dinner when my phone chimes with another notification. I expect it to be the email from the doctor’s office, but no. The email is from the HR manager at the firm.

Every ounce of levity I had talking to my brother drains from my body as I frantically click it open.

Of course she wants to see me in her office first thing tomorrow morning.

Fuck my life.

I’m so fired.

FIVE

Kinsley

“Good morning, Miss Rhodes.”Mrs. Monroe, the head of human resources, picks up a folder from her desk, tapping it twice and stands. “No need to sit down. We won’t be long.”

Yeah, sure, no need to sit because I’m going to be fired within the next five minutes. There’s no apology in the world that will change my fate here today. I was up all night thinking about it, staring at the email.Miss Rhodes, please report to HR first thing in the morning.

It was short, not so sweet, and definitely code for “you’re fired.”

She peers at me over her thick framed red glasses, her entire presence intimidating despite her short stature. I linger in the doorway, shifting my purse from one shoulder to the other, and give her a tentative smile.

Her answering frown is all the confirmation I need. If I didn’t have bad luck, I wouldn't have any at all.

There was a small part of me that hoped I was wrong, that I’d been overreacting for nothing. That there was a chance, even a tiny one, the bosses had a sense of humor and would forget all about little old me.

But the longer I stand here, the quicker my heart beats, and I know that’s not the case. I’m done.

Her withering stare cuts right through me. As she stalks past me, she shoves the manila folder in my hands. “This is your amended contract which includes your new salary and an NDA which is required when you’re working directly with the senior partners.”

Wait.

What?

New salary?

Workingwiththe senior partners?

To be fair, this lady doesn’t look like she’s one to play games, but surely I heard her wrong, right?

I scramble to follow her out of the office and down the hallway toward the elevators, her heels clicking loudly off the floor. “New salary? What is?—”

---