Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 84442 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 338(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84442 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 338(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
What the fuck is going on? Where is all my stuff? I thought he said I would be okay… oh my god, did he change his mind and fire me?!
Maybe Nick talked to Sloane… God knows she would try to spin a story where I’m the bad guy here. Doubt fills me. If that were the case, she would be cackling and gloating as she watches me get the boot?
I reach out with a trembling hand, peeling the note off my desk.
Please report to Mr. D’Amico’s office immediately. —Julie
Julie, Nick’s direct assistant.
Fuck.
I’m absolutely getting fired.
Tears spring to my eyes at the thought of all my hard work going down the drain over ridiculous office drama. I should have kept my mouth shut, maybe even said that Sloane had been showing me how to work on quarterly reports. Anything that would mean a different outcome than this.
I clutch my messenger bag to my hip and keep my head down as I rush past Sloane’s office, not looking up to meet her eyes as I pass. I can’t believe after all the hard work I’ve put in since coming here, that he’s just going to fire me. I mean… why didn’t he just do it yesterday instead of letting me come in this morning to all of—whatever this is—only to be humiliated in the worst kind of way.
Standing in front of the elevator, I debate even going up. Maybe I’ll just take my time and go see Taylor instead. She’s in an entirely different part of the building and the last thing I want to do is rant via text. I’d rather go take all of this to her desk and demand that she beat Sloane up… or something.
Taking a moment to consider everything, a heavy sigh escapes me as I shake my head. I’m not that kind of person. I don’t do the drama and I sure as hell don’t act like a child. With reluctance and my stomach rolling, I push the button on the elevator and wait to rise to my doom.
The elevator is thankfully empty when I step on, so I swipe my badge and hit the button for the top floor. As soon as I feel it start moving beneath my feet, I pull my glasses off and press the heels of my palms to my eyes. Tears rim them, forcing past my thick lashes as I gasp for a breath that refuses to come. How could I end up in this mess? After all my hard work, it was all for nothing. My jaw trembles with the force of keeping my cries from slipping out of my throat.
I worked my ass off to get a position at this company. Not just this field, but D’Amico Global specifically.
From the second I realized halfway through college that financial analysis was my calling, I set my sights here and here alone. There was no partying for me in college, and the one boyfriend I bothered with—a biochemistry major named Dallas who took my virginity and then broke up with me a week later—didn’t take up much of my time either.
I’ll be gutted if I lose this job.
I don’t have a backup plan. Sure, I could probably get a job at most Fortune 500s with my resume, so that solves the issue of not having enough in savings to last me more than a few months, but it wouldn’t be the same.
It wouldn’t be what I want.
This place is everything: the networking opportunities and the ability to make a difference in major companies that help change the world. It’s why I wanted to come here. It isn’t just about the logistics aspects of the company or the stock factors that it deals with. It’s about the medical research companies that it works with that are trying to save the lives of people all around the world.
People like my mother.
The elevator chimes far before I’m ready, and I hurriedly wipe at my eyes and paste on a smile as I step out. Hopefully I don’t look as terrified of getting fired as I feel. I allow myself five seconds to calm down in front of Nick’s door before raising my hand to knock, but it swings open before I have the chance.
“Right on time,” he says.
His eyes sparkle with an amusement that I’m not used to seeing on him, although his face is stuck in its normal expression of cool passivity. I stumble back a step, all too aware of how close he is when my heart rate kicks up impossibly higher in my chest.
He’s perfectly put together today—though there’s a dangerous edge to him that makes my thighs press together at the thought of him. Dark hair, thick and a little unruly, is swept back like it knows the rules but dares to break them. The sharp cut of his jaw is dusted with stubble, longer than usual, making him look less like the untouchable billionaire he is and more like a man who could ruin you in a back office and still walk into a boardroom minutes later like nothing ever happened.