and plans and don’t allow for chaos in our lives. What are we doing, getting drunk when I have to be at work at eight tomorrow?
But I’m too nervous about my decision, and I could use something to ease the stress. I’m going for it. Montana hands me a glass of bubbly and I grin, raising it up.
“Cheers.”
* * *
I wake up Friday morning and bet it’s 5:00 a.m., like clockwork. Except today, trying to open my eyes is like trying to lift rocks from my lids. I feel nauseous. My stomach is still protesting the copious amounts of champagne I drank last night.
I sit up in bed with a groan. I know I must be late for work. There’s no way on earth that I managed to wake up on time. I glance at my watch and my heart seizes.
It’s 8:43 a.m.
Body, oh body, you failed me!
I’m going to be late to work on the day I hand in my notice. Shit!
Still feeling worse for wear, I shower as quickly as I can, throw on some clothes and call a cab. No time for the “L” today.
I watch the streets pass outside the window with dizzying speed. This is not how I planned to leave Walker Industries. I pray that I can at least keep my dignity when I walk inside to hand in my notice.
My watch says that I’m forty minutes late. Not as bad as I expected, but I already know that William will be furious. I dash for the elevator as the receptionist at the front desk watches me in wonder. I furiously press the button in an attempt to make it move faster. Someone is yelling, “Hey! Hold the elevator—”
And oh, my god, I press the close button. “Sorry!” I yell as the doors seal shut.
The sooner I get this over with, the better.
I head straight for the top floor, fanning myself, trying to stop the sweat pouring from me, but when the doors open on the top floor, my skin is soaked.
I already know where William is. I can see him in his office with three men in business suits. I curse. I was meant to sit in on the meeting this morning to take notes. William is going to be even angrier than I anticipated. Still, there’s no turning back now.
I stride with as much confidence as I can muster toward William’s office. I watch his head tilt upward as he notices me. His professional meeting face melts into pure, unadulterated fury. He rises from his seat just as I reach his door. I don’t wait for him to invite me inside; I just enter the lion’s den.
The other men turn to see who’s interrupting their meeting. I can hear my own breathing, heavy and loud in the otherwise silent room. William’s jaw is set, his blue eyes gleaming.
“You’re late,” he snarls. I take a deep breath.
“Yes, I am.”
“You need to change that attitude before I fire you on the spot,” William snaps, not caring that the other men are listening to every word. Our eyes clash, my whole stomach churning in rage for how he always treats me like this. And that’s the moment I realize how much I need to do this. I can’t stay in a place where a man gets off on humiliating me.
“There’s no need to fire me, sir,” I reply, flashing him a smile that’s sweet as sugar. “I fucking quit.”
William
What the hell?
I stare at India, wondering who the hell she thinks she is. She shows up here late, looking like she’s been dragged through a bush backward and then she has the audacity to stand there and threaten to quit? I watch her intake of breath as I take a step toward her. To her credit, she keeps her head held high, her eyes never leaving mine even though her breathing quickens.
Just like my damn heartbeat.
“What did you just say to me?” I ask, my blood boiling with rage and something else. Something I’ve never wanted to feel for her but can’t seem to control.
The closer I get, the more her scent reaches and teases my nostrils. Damn her. Still, she tilts her head back, refusing to break our stare-off.
“You heard me. I quit,” she says defiantly. I can feel my neck and jaw heating up. How dare she humiliate me in front of my clients? I push past her to open the door to my office.
“Out. Now,” I tell her. She folds her arms, smirking a little. She’s finally letting loose with the rebellious side I knew she had. At the worst possible time.
“You’re not my boss anymore,” she says, pouting a little. She looks cute as hell. It’s kind of turning me on, which is annoying. I seriously need to focus.
“We need to talk about this. Wait in your office for me.”
I push the door open and motion for her to leave.
India looks like she might protest, but after a few moments she does as I ask. She casts a defiant glare around the room before heading to her office. Behind me, one of my clients, Theodore, lets out a throaty chuckle.
“Looks like you’ve got a dangerous woman on your hands,” he says, smirking. “Not ideal in an assistant, but—”
“Excuse me for a moment, gentlemen,” I interrupt, not in the mood to hear this guy’s leering comments. “If you’d like to read over the contracts in the meantime—I’ll be right back.” I take a deep breath, hoping to keep my cool as I head out to speak with India.
She’s pacing when I enter her office. Her face has taken on a grayish color, but I can tell she’s still angry. She casts a glance back at my office and I see that the men are watching us. Great. An audience is the last thing I needed for this conversation. Still, I need to remind India of her place.
“Sit down, India,” I say quietly, but firmly. She sinks into her chair, watching me carefully.
“India, you’ve been a good employee,” I begin.
She looks surprised at the compliment, but she tries to keep a straight face.
Suddenly more nervous than when I’m facing an army of corporate suits, I shove my hands into my pants pockets and give her my most commanding look.
“Which is why I am willing to give you another chance here. It was rash of me to make that comment about firing you, and it was rash of you to consider quitting. After the way you’ve just embarrassed me, I would say you’re lucky I’m feeling so generous.”
India’s face quickly flits from surprise to anger. “Generous? Are you serious, William?”
I frown. “You’ve displayed some pretty questionable behavior today, India. Not many people would give you a second chance.”
“And what about all the second chances I’ve given you?” she counters.
“What the hell are you
