Page 25 of Bridesmaid By Chance
This is not normal.
I mean, the green drink is normal.
But the chattiness.
The maneuvering.
The…wait, is she wearing pants?
I glance at her outfit, taking in the power suit sheathing her body. She’s never worn a power suit. It’s always dresses and skirts. I should know because I’ve averted my eyes from her legs at all costs every single day she’s been in the office.
Yeah, this is not normal. Something is up.
I take a sip of my drink and immediately cringe.
Smacking my lips, I hold the drink away and say, “What the hell is this?”
Smiling, she leans forward. “Had them take out the sugar for you.” She taps the side of my head and whispers, “Wrinkle patrol.”
I knew yesterday was real!
I set the drink down, scoot my chair back, and stand. “I fucking knew it,” I say, as if I’ve caught her red-handed.
“Knew what?” she asks, looking confused.
“I knew that yesterday was real.”
“Um…yes, yesterday was real.” She takes a step closer, her perfume filtering in between us, making me feel light-headed. “Are you okay? Did you hit your head or something?”
“No. I’m fine. The question is, are you okay?”
She grips her lower back. “A little sore after I attempted to do a backflip off the couch from a sugar high, but other than that, okay. Why?”
“A backflip?”
She nods. “Stuck the landing, but I didn’t complete perfection without a little bit of a hit to the old lower back. That’s what happens when you get older, not as nimble as we used to be. But you know all about that.”
My nostrils flare, and I take a step back, giving myself some distance from her as I say, “Didn’t I fire you yesterday?”
“I believe that you did.” She nods as if it’s no big deal.
“Okay, so…care to tell me why you’re here, in my office, handing me a green drink with no sugar?”
“I chose not to take part in the firing.”
“What the hell does that mean?” I ask.
And then to my surprise, she plops herself on top of my desk, crosses one leg over the other, and leans back on her hand, the pose incredibly too sexy, especially since the position makes the lapels of her suit jacket pop open, revealing that she’s not wearing a shirt under that blazer. Just a bra.
Christ.
“It means I chose not to be fired.”
“That’s not a thing,” I say.
“Oh, it is. You see, I’ve been taught to seize what I want, to take charge, and that’s exactly what I’m doing. Therefore, I’ve decided that I’m not fired.”
“You can decide that all you want, but that’s not how things work. I’m the boss, you work for me; therefore, when I say you’re fired, you’re fired. There will be no point in coming into the office because I will not be paying you.”
