making cuts.” Cynthia leafed through the file and didn’t meet her eyes. “Putting it bluntly, business has fallen off a cliff. Everyone in the hospitality industry is laying off employees and reducing hours.”
Letting her go.
Not promoting her or moving her to Los Angeles.
Letting her go.
There was a buzzing in her ears. “But—I’ve brought in nine major new clients in the past six months. Almost all the new business growth has been down to me and—”
“We lost Adams Construction as a client.”
Shock flashed through her. “What?”
Chase Adams, the owner of the most successful construction company in Manhattan, had been one of their biggest clients. It was after an event for his company that Matilda had been fired.
Karma, Paige thought. First Cynthia had fired Matilda and now Chase Adams had fired them.
And she was a casualty.
“I wasn’t in a position to argue.” Cynthia continued. “That stupid girl Matilda ruined their event.”
“That’s why he fired us? Because of an accident?”
“Spilling one glass of champagne might be termed an accident, but dropping an entire tray is closer to a catastrophe. Adams insisted that I get rid of her. I tried to persuade him to rethink, but he wouldn’t. The man owns half of Manhattan. He’s one of the most powerful players in this city.”
“Then he didn’t need to crush poor Matilda.” Paige could think of a few choice words to describe Chase Adams, none of them flattering. She certainly didn’t blame Matilda.
“It’s history. Naturally we’ll give you excellent references for your next job.”
Next job?
She wanted this job. The job she loved. The job she’d earned.
Her mouth was so dry it was hard to speak. Her heart pounded, a brutal reminder of how fragile life was. This morning she’d felt as if she owned the world and now control had been wrenched from her hands.
Other people were deciding her future. Closed doors and conversations. People expecting her to wear a brave face.
And she was an expert at that. She did it without thinking whenever life got tough, like a computer going into sleep mode.
She knew how to bury her feelings and she buried them now.
Stay professional, Paige.
“You told me that if I met my performance objectives I would be promoted. I exceeded them.”
“The situation has changed and as a commercial operation we need to be fluid and react to the needs of the market.”
“How many people? Is that why Alice was crying? She’s been laid off? Who else?” Was it the same for Frankie and Eva?
Eva had no family to turn to and Paige knew Frankie would stop eating rather than ask her mother for a single cent.
“I’m not in a position to discuss other employees with you.”
Paige sat still, battered by emotion. She felt a dizzying loss of control.
She’d trusted her employers. They’d made big promises. She’d delivered time and time again, worked hideous hours and put her future in their hands. And this was what they did with that trust? They’d given her no warning. No hint.
“This company has grown because of me. I can show you numbers that prove it.”
“We’ve worked as a team.” Cynthia was cool. “You are good at your job. You have a tendency to be a little too friendly toward the people who work for you, and you should say no to the client more often—that episode when you had that man’s suit express dry-cleaned in the middle of a party was beyond ridiculous—but apart from that I have no complaints. This isn’t about your work.”
“I dry-cleaned his suit because he’d spilled his drink and he was trying to impress his boss. He gave us a huge piece of business after that. And I’m friendly because I like working in a happy team and a positive environment.”
Something Cynthia knew nothing about.
Looking at her boss was like looking at a locked door. Nothing she said was ever going to open it. She was wasting her time.
Instead of a promotion and a pay raise, she was out of a job.
She’d have to turn to her family for help. Once again she’d be causing her parents and her brother anxiety. And their instinct would be to protect her.
Paige felt her heart pound and instinctively lifted her palm to her chest. Through the fabric of her shirt she felt the solid shape of the little silver heart she sometimes wore hidden under her clothes.
For a moment she was back in the hospital bed, seventeen years old, surrounded by get-well cards and balloons, waiting for her operation and scared out of her mind. Her brain had been conjuring awful scenarios when the door had opened and a doctor had strolled into the room wearing a white coat and carrying a clipboard.
She’d braced herself for more tests, more pain, more bad news, and then recognized Jake.
“They wouldn’t let me in because it’s not visiting hours, so I’m flexing the rules. Call me Dr. Romano.” He’d winked at her and closed the door. “Time for your medicine, Miss Walker. No squealing or I’ll remove your brain and donate it to medical science.”
He’d always made her laugh. His presence did other things to her, too. Things that made her wish she were wearing something slinky and sexy instead of an oversize T-shirt with a cartoon on the front. “Are you doing the operation?”
“I faint at the sight of blood and I don’t know a brain from a butt, so no, I’m not. Here. I bought you something.” He’d dug his hand into the back pocket of his jeans and pulled out a small box. “Better open it quickly, before I’m arrested.”
For a crazy moment she’d thought he was giving her an engagement ring and her heart, her misbehaving heart, had missed a beat.
“What is it?” Hands shaking, she’d opened the box and there, nestled on a bed of midnight-blue silk, was a beautiful silver heart on a delicate chain. “Oh, Jake—”
Engraved on the back were three words.
A strong heart.
“I thought yours could do with a little help. Wear it, honey, and think of it as reinforcements anytime your own is in trouble.”
Maybe it wasn’t a ring, but he’d called her honey and he’d given her a necklace.
That had to mean something, surely?
She’d stopped worrying about the operation
