One blind date two years ago made me happy. I met a man I thought I paired well with.
That all changed on our third date. He left me to pay the check in a four-star French restaurant. The text message he sent me later that night to explain his sudden absence only added salt to my already wounded ego.
He took off with a woman he met in the corridor leading to the washrooms. It was love at first sight his message said.
That was confirmed when I ran into him three months ago. He had a ring on his left hand and a picture of his newborn son on his phone.
“So Duke was giving you time to pursue more of that?” Barrett smirks.
I set the coffee cup on the corner of my desk. “Duke cared about my happiness.”
“Did you tell him about the string of one and done men that you’ve met?”
I widen my stance. “What I did or didn’t tell Duke is privileged information.”
The corner of his mouth twitches in an almost grin. “As interesting as this conversation is, we have work to do. Check your email, Isabella.”
I shrug my shoulders in exasperation. “Fine. I’ll do that now.”
I expect him to stroll back into his office, but he stays glued in place.
I fall into my office chair, flip open the cover of my laptop, and wait for it to pop to life. Once it does, I open my email program and scroll through the dozens of messages waiting for me.
I can skim through them, and reply to all within ten minutes, but I take my time, typing out a response to one of Garent’s marketing reps about a dinner party she’s hosting at her home two weeks from now.
“I’m standing right here.” Barrett taps the corner of my desk with his hand. “If you have a reply to my email, say what you need to say.”
I glance up at him, pasting a fake smile on my lips. “I’ll get to your email. I’m responding to them in the order in which they were received. That’s the way Duke preferred I handle work emails.”
“I prefer you to handle the work I assign you, so I’ll paraphrase the email for you,” he says in a pissy tone. “I need you to prepare termination documents for the list of employees I’ve included in the email.”
Clicking open the email, I furrow my brow as I read through a list of at least twenty names of Garent Industries employees.
Most of them have held their positions for years. Some I met on my very first day as an intern.
“I need that done now, Isabella.” He taps his hand on my desk again. “The first soon-to-be-former employee is due here in less than an hour.”
Termination documents? Soon-to-be-former employee?
I look up to find his blue eyes locked on my face. “Are you firing all these people?”
“All of those people and more,” he says without missing a beat. “This is the first round of cuts.”
I know every person on the list. I’ve been to the wedding of one and the housewarming party of another.
“You can’t do this,” I point out. “These people have families. They have financial responsibilities.”
His left brow rises. “I have a responsibility to this company. It’s time to clean house. Prepare those termination documents now.”
I raise my middle finger to his back when he turns to walk into his office.
“Tyrant,” I whisper under my breath, dropping my hand.
He glances back over his shoulder. “What was that?”
The word edges over my tongue, aching for me to release it to his face, but I need this damn job.
“Nothing, Mr. Adper.”