Page 48 of For the Plot
She looks up, rolling her eyes. “If one more man at this job tells me I should smile more, I swear to God, I’m going to lose it.”
I laugh, the sound a little too eager to be anywhere other than inside my own head. “Should we be drinking or hiding the bodies?”
“Both,” she deadpans, raising her glass. “But first, we drink.”
The bartender drops off my martini—gin, dirty, like my thoughts—and I take a long, blessed sip. The alcohol slides down my throat, releasing a touch of the tension that’s been wrapped around me since Reece left me alone on that terrace.
We chat for a few minutes about her new position, how the office dynamics are shifting now that she’s a manager, and the passive-aggressive emails from coworkers who suddenly think she’s too big for happy hour.
“How does it feel?” I ask, genuinely curious. “Being the boss?”
She smirks. “Stressful. Powerful. Like I finally earned the right to be the bitch I’ve always been accused of being.”
I grin. “So you’re thriving.”
“Obviously.” She takes another sip, then narrows her eyes at me. “But enough about me. How’syournew job going?”
And there it is. The question I knew would be coming. I try to play it cool, keep my face blank as I lift my martini and avoid eye contact. “It’s… fine.”
“Fine?” Maya snorts. “Babe, your cheeks are literally turning pink. Spill.”
We exchange a smile, but hers doesn’t last long. She tilts her head. “Skye.”
“Maya.”
Her brows lift like she’s waiting. I exhale a long breath, staring into the pale-green swirl of my drink. She eyes me over the rim of her martini like she knows something.
“You’ve got that look again,” she says, swirling her olive.
“What look?”
“The one where you’re pretending nothing is going on, but you’re practically vibrating with forbidden billionaire energy.”
I almost choke on my sip of overpriced gin. “You are ridiculous.”
She just smirks, leaning back against the bar like she’s about to win a bet. “So, still stapling things and memorizing the pattern of his tie collection?”
I snort, trying to brush it off. “I mean, yeah. Mostly calendar management and coffee runs. Which, shocker, is not exactly the dream.”
“We both know that and it’s not supposed to be.” She narrows her gaze further. “So what’s with this new energy?”
I glance down at my drink, swirling the condensation with my thumb. “I think it’s because I forgot how much I used to love… the other side of the job. The creative stuff. PR campaigns, branding ideas. Building something from scratch that actually makes people feel something. Remember when I was interning at that tiny agency in college? I used to live for that adrenaline—pitching campaigns and watching them take off.”
Maya tilts her head. “So why aren’t you doing that now?”
I huff out a soft laugh, equal parts wistful and annoyed. “Because somewhere along the way, life steamrolled me. Or maybe I just let it because that was the most comfortable option. One decision to stay at a job I hated because the money was good. One decision to choose said job over a man that then dumped me… And suddenly, I’m here… fetching coffee for a man who could probably buy a small country just for fun.”
Her hand lands on my knee, warm and steady. “You’re Skye Rhodes. You’ve always landed on your feet. And honestly? You’re too damn talented to be anyone’s coffee girl forever.”
My throat tightens, and I reach my hand around hers to offer a quick squeeze. “I don’t even know where to start anymore.”
“You already have. You start by wanting it,” she says simply, and clinks her glass against mine. “Next step, go after it.”
“You’re right,” I nod, my smile growing wider. “I still have my contacts at the old PR firm plus I can probably mess around on some of the high end software programs at work if I talk to our marketing department.”
“And just like that," she lifts her glass toward mine so I do the same, “Skye fucking Rhodes is back in action.”
I take a long healthy sip of my martini, a soft giggle bubbling up when I remember what I’ve been dying to tell Maya all day. “Okay. So… remember our little conversation on the phone at work?”
