Page 24 of Game Change

He takes a step back and runs a hand through his hair. It all makes sense now. Well, no, it doesn’t. It will never make sense, but I knew he was well off. I never thought he’d be connected to my job. And eventually, take it from me.

“I’ve always been Milton’s nephew, and you admitted not too long ago that he has talked about me. Look, I don’t want to take your job. That’s not my intention. He dropped this bomb on me this morning, and I figured out who you were five seconds before you walked in.” He takes a deep breath and moves closer, but I shake my head at him.

“Lies,” I whisper-shout. “You reverse catfished me.”

“I didwhat?” He doesn’t bother to whisper. He practically shouts the question. “What the hell is a reverse catfish?”

“Were they all paid actors?” I finally leave the wall of windows so I can point in his face. “Your so-called friends. I bet there was no wedding. Did you have someone Photoshop those pictures you sent me? Were they AI? And you made the black guy the angry one.” I shake my head sadly at him. “Typical.”

“Every picture I sent you was real, as was every video,” he says. “You think I planned this? I discovered who you were? Followed you on vacation? And what? Did the Jedi mind trick on you to get you into bed?”

I look around the office before I say, “Don’t youevermention that again. That’s the biggest mistake of my life.” I run a hand down my pants to wipe my sweaty palms. The one time I let loose and go against my true nature, this happens. I fall for a liar and a con artist.

“Mistake?” he asks, as if that word hurts him. “You think what happened between us was a mistake?”

“I told you never to mention that again,” I hiss.

“Or what?” he challenges.

Milton strolls back in as if he didn’t just detonate a bomb. He’s looking down at his phone but doesn’t smile. He seems tense, and I doubt whatever that phone call was about has anything to do with what’s happening in this room. Then he looks up and must sense the tension because he clears his throat.

“Brynne, I want you to know how valued you are here,” he says. He’s said that to me before, and each time, I believed him, but not today. Today, I feel gutted and discarded. Today, I feel like an outsider looking in, and even though Colin Kincaid is the new person, I feel like a guest.

Milton gestures to my chair, and I sit without uttering a single word. They would be wasted here. What I need to do is figure out my next move. The salary is more than I expected with the promotion, and I wonder if Milton offered it to me, knowing it would be impossible for another company to match it or even come close.

Of course, he knew that. That old man might be nice, but he’s shrewd. He’s always one step ahead of everyone, and I feel like I got played. Like I was the backup plan until his number-one pick finally agreed to come home.

“I want you to continue with us,” he says. His voice is back to the tone of my mentor.

“But the thing is, Milton, I don’tfeelvalued here,” is all I say. And since my name is not Kincaid, I’ve reached as far as I’m going to go in this company. I want to say that as I ball up his offer and throw it in his face, but I bite my tongue. I need that money. I’ve run down my savings to practically nothing, and I need to start saving again. There’s also this non-compete clause I’d have to abide by for a year. Unless I get fired; then the non-compete clause doesn’t apply. I negotiated that myself when I started, but again, I need the salary. Quitting now is not the smartest move I can make.

If I stay two more years, I can afford to quit and not work for a year. Maybe I can do what I’ve always wanted and start my own freelance company, and I’ll never have to worry about an old man taking something away from me again. The icing on the cake will be telling Milton and his nephew to kiss my black behind on my way out the door.

“As you can see, the offer is more than generous.” I don’t respond because it is, and he knows that I know that. We both know what the market pays to architects. We’ve talked about it many times. “And I need you to help Colin.”

“Of course.” I side-eye Colin, who is now looking at me with his eyes narrowed. I don’t think he buys my docility. Good. He shouldn’t.

“I’m going to have Ernestine order lunch for the entire office. We’ll announce Colin's the new boss, and we’ll introduce him to the office.”

“We?” I ask. Who the fuck is we? That’s what I want to ask, but I can’t, so I swallow those words.

“Other than me, you’re the most senior person here.” I’m not. There are architects older than me, but I know what he means. They’re not interested in moving up. They’re content doing their job and going home. “Nothing will change. Ernestine will also be assisting Colin.”

“But she’smypersonal assistant,” I remind him. I hired her, and she works for me. If he tells me she’s going to report to Colin now, I’ll walk.

“Yes, but she can help him too.”

“I can bring in my own assistant,” Colin says, and his arrogant and entitled attitude makes my nostrils flare. “But I can use Brynne’s help.”

My eyes lock with him again. I clench my jaw. It will be a very cold day in hell before I’ll help him. I wouldn’t help him cross the street, never mind navigate the office politics.

I stand abruptly and say, “I just remembered I have a conference call with a client in ten minutes that I must prepare for. Excuse me.” I walk out without another word.

Chapter 14

Colin

She closes the office door with as much force as she can without slamming it. Once we’re alone, I stare at my uncle. “You’ve dropped me in a hostile work environment,” I announce. “How could you not tell me you had promised this job to someone else?”

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