Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 129676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 648(@200wpm)___ 519(@250wpm)___ 432(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 648(@200wpm)___ 519(@250wpm)___ 432(@300wpm)
Andrin used to say I never learned from past mistakes, but I disagreed.
This time, I was going to kill Nash Moore deep in the woods.
Red didn’t go well with the dark green wallpaper of my property.
Tate made himself unavailable to me the week after I broached the subject of his disorders. He went both to the Hamptons and on a mysterious trip abroad. I was left with Enzo, Filippo, and a million unanswered questions. Oh, an ailing mother who was still in a medically induced coma.
The fun just never stopped for yours truly.
In lieu of a husband, I threw myself into visiting Mum, making arrangements for her hospice transfer, and work. All my colleagues were wondering why the big, hulking men in suits followed me everywhere. Even though I worked diligently on forming a union, most of them still didn’t approach me.
My five-day streak of not seeing my husband was coming to an end, though. Tate had texted earlier today he would be picking me up for a mysterious meeting.
Tate: We’re leaving the office at four today. Meeting in Brooklyn. Be ready.
I was.
So were the twenty people sitting in my office, serving as the organizing committee of our freshly formed workers’ union.
Tate arrived on the HR floor half an hour before we were scheduled to leave, accompanied by his two bodyguards and Rebecca.
Seeing her next to him made my heart squeeze with jealousy. He entered my office poker-faced, as though being ambushed by twenty of his employees was nothing out of the ordinary.
“You unionized the staff.” He reached to give me a cold peck on the lips. The gesture caught me by surprise.
I swallowed down the ball of wariness in my throat. “What makes you think that?”
“You haven’t fired anyone in two weeks.” He shouldered off his coat, ignoring everyone, eyes trained on me. “And haven’t done anything to ruin my life in almost a week. I was starting to get worried.”
Rebecca tutted in disapproval, shaking her head. The gesture forced me to turn my attention to her. I had worked with her back when I was assisting Tate full-time. She never wore skirts this skimpy before. And knowing she was openly flirting with him bothered me, I realized. A lot.
It also didn’t help that my husband had been ignoring me for five days. My confidence in our shaky marriage had hit rock bottom. She was still propositioning him, I’d bet. Her attire was only appropriate for brothels and a Victoria’s Secret runway.
Tate followed my line of vision. He nodded swiftly. “I see. Rebecca?”
“Yeah?” she purred behind his back.
“You’re fired.”
She gasped. “What?”
He tossed a glance at her over his shoulder. “Fired. Discharged. Laid off. Done-zo. Can’t think of other synonyms.”
“I believe ousted is also an appropriate term.” I cleared my throat demurely. It wasn’t like me to be gleeful of another person’s woes. “Exiled is a bit of an overkill but also a fitting substitute.”
“Yes.” Tate grinned at me with open admiration, and my whole body blossomed with warmth. “That. Anyway.” He waved a hand. “Goodbye. Apricity, find me a replacement.”
After five days of being deserted, the last thing I wanted to do was help him, but I needed to put myself aside for my passion project.
I nodded. “Stay tuned.”
“Now, tell me what all this is about.” He gestured to the room full of people, who watched the entire spectacle with their mouths agape.
“We want you to recognize our union and start negotiating better health care and working conditions.” I stood up straight.
“You’re violating your employee’s textbook,” he shot drily.
“I retained a lawyer who found a loophole,” I countered, bracing myself for a bitter argument.
“Fine.”
“If you don’t agree, we’ll file an election petition with the NLRB offi—wait, what?” I cocked my head sideways.
“I said fine.” He rolled his sleeves up his elbows and took a seat at my desk, picking up the forty-page folder I prepared with our demands. “I have twenty minutes to look at your asks. I’ll get back to you by the end of the month with an official counteroffer once legal tears it apart.”
Everyone in the room was stunned into silence. A few people whispered in shock. Hank, an elderly employee, looked like he was about to faint.
“You’re not going to balk?” I asked.
My husband was not a businessman. He was a vulture profiteering from other people’s misery.
He flipped through the pages of my demands, grabbing a red Sharpie and making notes on the margins. “Do you want me to?”
“No.” A frown kissed my forehead. “You’re usually less agreeable, though.”
“What can I say? Fucking the woman of my dreams regularly has made me considerably less prickly.”
Gasps and giggles erupted from our audience. Enzo smirked from his place by the door, swiveling in an office chair like a child. I wanted to crawl under a rock and hide there forever.