One Kiss: An Office Romance

“Can I get you anything? A bottle of water?” she asks.

A cigarette? A last meal? Repeats a voice in my head wryly.

“No, no, I’m fine,” I answer, happy to hear that there is not a quaver in my voice.

Hillary glances at Greg, then reaches across the table to touch the manila folder and slide it toward me.

“It seems that we have a problem,” she begins. “At this time, we do not feel we have a solution.”

I shake my head, not understanding the words.

“A solution to what?”

I look at both of them, settling on Greg’s triumphant sneer.

“Wait, are you firing me?”

“We feel that separation from employment is definitely our only option at this time,” Hillary says in her practiced HR language.

Even though I was planning on quitting, this is still outrageous. I’m being fired? Fired?

“For what?” I blurt out.

“Insubordination,” Greg smiles broadly.

Hillary shoots him a dirty look, warning him to be careful. There are lots of laws around that sort of thing. I don’t know of any that can really punish you for having that smug, slappable expression on your face that Greg is currently using, but there probably should be.

“Insubordination? Are you serious?”

“We don’t need to have a reason, legally,” Hillary explains cautiously, as though she is being recorded. “By the terms of your contract…”

“See, you can’t just talk to me like that!” Greg interrupts, talking over her immediately. “You are my assistant, remember that? You can’t just say anything you want!”

My mouth opens and I force myself to close it. I stand up from the table.

“I need you to sign the—”

I know enough to not sign anything. No way. My brother Kevin is an attorney, and he barely wanted me to sign the paperwork they gave me when I started working here, but I had to sign if I wanted the job. But if they’re firing me, is there anything they can do that can really make me pick up that pen? I’m not entirely sure what I’m supposed to do in this situation, so I just leave HR and head back toward my cubicle.

I don’t see security coming for me or anything, so I pick up my box and tuck it against my hip. Just as I turn around, the maintenance man finishes his work on the Head Broker’s office door. I read the name with surprise, letting the realization rock through me like a tidal wave.

Maxwell Kent, Head Broker.

The guy at the coffee kiosk.

Ungoddamnbelievable.

With my eyes averted, I pull my cell phone out of my pocket and swipe the face. I navigate to the notifications and find the text message that jerk sent me, then delete it without reading it.

I don’t need this. I don’t need it at all.

Chapter 1

Three weeks later

Maxwell

Greg appears in my open doorway, pulling his sleeves down and buttoning the cuffs with a giant grin on his face.