Ruthless (The Calvettis of New York 2) - Page 11

I examine the label of the bottle in my hand. “You’re wrong to assume that.”

He brings the parchment paper wrapped roasted vegetable sandwich in his hand to his nose. Inhaling deeply, he leans back in his chair. “This smells incredible. I win for best lunch today.”

I look around, but Max and I are the only two people in the break room in the back of Polleys, the shoe store Max’s mom owns.

I pick at the corner of my grilled chicken and arugula wrap. “Something happened this morning.”

“I’m going to learn what that is at some point, right?” Max tilts his head. “My lunch break is only thirty minutes. We’re barreling toward the five-minute mark so spit it out so I can eat my sandwich.”

Teasing Max is one of my favorite things to do. It started when we were kids. Max, his mom, and his grandparents lived in the same building as my family. Max would have dinner with us at least a couple of times a week.

When we ended up in the same class in third grade, we made a vow to be best friends until the end of time.

Time is still moving forward, and we’re closer than ever.

“It has to do with work.”

He takes a large bite of the ciabatta bun and vegetables. Red pepper sauce drips from the corner of his mouth.

I reach for a paper napkin, but he beats me to it, gliding it along his lips.

I wait for him to finish chewing because I know he’ll have questions.

“If you don’t tell me what’s going on, Bella, I’ll call Duke myself.”

I slide a piece of arugula from my wrap and pop it in my mouth. “This is about Ivan. He was waiting for me this morning.”

“Ivan Garent?” He straightens in his chair. “Mr. Money himself is in Manhattan?”

“He’s here because he had a morning meeting with Ms. Money herself.” I brush a hand over my shoulder.

His eyes don’t leave my face. “Ms. Money? You?”

“You’re looking at someone who just signed a new contract with Garent Industries. Let me count the ways this benefits me. A six-figure a year salary, an expense account, an allowance for commuting, and three weeks of vacation this year.”

Max’s jaw drops.

I cup my hand over my ear. “Is that Maui I hear calling my name? Our names?”

Max tugs on the collar of the light green polo shirt he’s wearing. “Excuse me? Repeat, please. Repeat.”

I laugh. “You heard me. I got a raise this morning. A very big raise.”

“I’m not a mathematician, but it sounds like your pay doubled.” He pushes back from the table. He moves across the break room to grab two paper cups that are next to the coffee maker.

I didn’t think of it that way, until now. “Doubled plus an extra ten grand on top of that.”

Sitting back down, Max narrows his eyes. “That’s a huge raise. Plus the perks. What the hell do you have to do to earn that?”

“Nothing.” I shrug it off. “Mr. Garent said that they want to keep me for the next year.”

“There’s keeping, and then there’s keeping.” He drawls out the last word. He studies me as he pours a splash of champagne into each cup. “Did you help Duke bury a body? Are you his alibi but not really his alibi? What the hell is going on?”

I tug on the bottom of a strand of my hair. “It’s nothing like that. I’m worth it. They see the value in what I have to offer, and they don’t want to lose me.”

He picks up the cup in front of him. “Here’s to whatever the hell you’re going to have to do to earn that extra money. Cheers!”

I raise my cup and tap it against the side of his. “You’re wrong, Max. All I have to do is continue to be the best assistant Duke Garent has ever had.”

Tags: Deborah Bladon The Calvettis of New York Romance
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