Page 27 of Middle Ground
I shake my head. “Your mother gave him more than his fair share of warnings, Meyer. It’s all documented in his file. He’s lucky he’s been given this long.”
“We’renotfiring Reggie.” She slams her cup down on the desk. Some of the coffee escapes the opening and lands on the back of her hand, and by the way she flinches, I assume it’s still scorching. “Son of a bitch!”
I sigh. “Are you alright?”
She doesn’t answer. She just glares. I retake my seat, running a hand over my face as my bone-deep exhaustion hits me once again.
I have to look away when Meyer laves her skin with her tongue, clearing away the coffee and simultaneously nursing the burn. It shouldn’t be enticing at all, yet it has my mind wandering to places it shouldn’t.
“You cleaned.”
It’s not a statement but an accusation. I deem it safe to return my gaze to her and find Meyer now glaring at the newly organized files.
“What? Do you have something against tidiness, too?” I ask.
My office in Toronto is pristine. Scratch that, my whole life in the city is pristine. I stepped one foot into this office and instantly had the desire to spend a small fortune at the office supply store. The space wasn’t dirty by any means,but it was messy. How Meyer ever managed to find anything was nothing short of a miracle.
She crosses her arms. “I had a system.”
“Well, now you have anewsystem. One that doesn’t make my eye twitch.”
She reaches both hands in front of her and mimes strangulation. I try, honestly, but I can’t hold back the laugh that escapes me. Her ire, though meant to be formidable, only draws me into her orbit more.
With a grin, I say, “Now there’s no need for violence, Ellison.”
“You’re a prick,” she spits.
“Andyouare the most stubborn woman I’ve ever met,” I reply. “I take it we won’t be seeing eye to eye on this Reggie business.”
Her lip curls into a smirk. “At least you’ve got something right.”
Resigned, I sigh again. A headache has been edging into my brain all morning, and now it’s finally making its full appearance. I rub at my temple, trying to soothe the flair of pain.
Coffee and an ibuprofen. That’s what I need.
I stand again, reaching for my jacket from the back of the chair. Instead, I have to brace against it when a wave of dizziness clouds my vision.
My head swims, and I’m sure I’m seeing things, but Meyer’s expression seems to soften. Fractionally. Try as she might to keep it concealed, my business partner has a heart. I’m sure it eats her up inside that she can’t feel completely indifferenttoward me.
But I would take her chilling hatred over indifference any day. It sets something off inside me, this inherent need to get under her skin.
“You puke, you clean it” is all she says. But I think I see worry behind that uncaring façade, and I’m fucking sick of all the worry. So I straighten, pulling on my jacket, and I will myself to stay steady.
“I’m going to get some air,” I say. “Try not to miss me too much while I’m gone.”
She tosses the balled up paper at my retreating back. It falls short, hitting the floor behind me. “Trust me, there’s no risk of that.”
My laugh follows me out the door.
CHAPTER 11
MEYER
With a sigh,I flop against the back of Pippa’s couch.
Beside me, my best friend quirks a brow. “Alright,” she says, “that’s the tenth dramatic sigh in as many minutes. What’s wrong?”
My lips curl into a sneer. “Jackson Vaughan is what’s wrong. His presence in my life. His existence, period.”
