Page 4 of The Reluctant Roommate

She pried the lid off the Styrofoam cup. She’d drink her soup and then go. The sandwich could wait.

She’d managed two sips before the message box at the bottom of her screen flashed again.Now means now.

He must have seen her arrive back. Morgan glanced over her shoulder. Sure enough, David was glaring at her through the glass wall of his office. With an internal sigh, she replaced the lid on the cup, pasted a smile on her face, and answered the summons.

“Close the door.” David didn’t get up from his desk. He waved her to the other chair. “I had a call from Amelia Cargill this morning.”

Morgan nodded. One of her more active and hands-on clients—and one of the wealthiest.

“She says you sold shares on her account on Tuesday.”

“That’s right.” Morgan folded her hands in her lap. “She wanted to divest the shares she owned in Walland Industries. She had me do that.”

“Except you didn’t.” David steepled his fingers and leaned forward. “You divested her shares in Wallan Industries. Wallan without the D.Walland crashed overnight. Wallan is showing steady growth. Amelia has, at a conservative estimate, lost nearly three hundred thousand dollars. She’s threatening to sue.”

Morgan’s heart froze, and ice threaded her veins to her fingertips. She was always so careful in any share portfolio, but particularly in Amelia’s, which was considerably larger than average. Especially in Amelia’s, where some of the investments had similar names. Always in Amelia’s because she was her biggest client, one Morgan entertained on Amelia’s infrequent visits to Denver, taking her to high-end restaurants on the company dollar—which actually came out of her commission but was still worth it, still oh-so worth it.

Amelia, who gave her lavish gifts at Christmas and thanked Morgan profusely when her advice added to her already considerable wealth.

And now, it seemed, she’d made a huge error. A rookie mistake—careless and sloppy.

Inexcusable. Negligent.

Although… She frowned. “I always double, triple check any transfer. Especially on Amelia’s account.”

“Obviously not this time.”

“But—”

“Don’t suggest the error was our client’s.” David’s voice hardened. “Any error is never our client’s.” He turned his screen so she could see.

There, in glowing pixels was the email Amelia had sent her two days ago. Automatically, she checked the date and time it was received. It was Amelia’s email, no question about it. The email she’d actioned as her final transfer of the day, at nearly eightp.m. After that, she’d left the office, gotten a burrito, and headed home.

David highlighted a section of text, and Morgan’s whole body froze. The email asked her to immediately divest all shares in Walland Industries. Walland with a D.

The error was hers. There was no escaping that. Yes, she’d been exhausted—tired to the bone from insomnia. Yes, it had been the final transaction of the day, when she was already thinking about a pulled-pork burrito and a glass of Sangiovese. Yes, she’d been looking forward to turning the key in the front door of her town house, of relaxing in the professionally designed living area, her peaceful happy place, then sitting at the granite breakfast bar to eat a takeaway burrito in the gourmet kitchen she barely had time to use, before retiring to bed, blinds open so she could admire the peaks of the Front Range through the floor-to-ceiling windows. One part of her mind had beenthinking all those things, but the major part, the important part, had been thinking about Amelia’s portfolio and double- and triple-checking her actions.

As she always did; and she’d never made a mistake.

Except, apparently, this time. She opened her mouth, formulating her apology in her mind.

David watched her. “I don’t want excuses, Morgan. The error was yours. Your employment with Mattingley Financial is terminated, effective immediately.”

Had she heard him correctly? She’d worked here for seven years, long hours, hard hours, building up to being one of the leading financial advisors, a partnership in her sights. And now, with one error, one mistake, the first she’d ever made, she was terminated like a junior advisor at the end of probation.

“David, this is—”

He stood. “I’m sorry, Morgan, but my hands are tied. Amelia is incandescent with rage and insists you be fired immediately.”

He picked up his desk phone. “Savannah, can you arrange for Ms.Favola to turn in her security cards and clear out her desk, and for someone to escort her from the premises.”

The room spun, and she rested her head in her hands. Tears pricked at the back of her eyes, and she blinked fiercely. She would not show weakness. She took a deep breath, willing away the dizziness.

When it had passed, she raised her head again. “I don’t need an escort.” She lifted the lanyard with card and keys attached from around her neck and laid it on David’s desk. “I’ll clear my desk now and leave.”

“I’m sorry, Morgan. For security reasons, I’m obliged to have you escorted off the premises.”

She closed her eyes briefly. Her cubicle was off to one side of the main floor, a larger area as befitted her senior position, but it was still public enough that everyone—from the senior partnersto the newest intern—would see her walk of shame. See her carrying a box of her personal possessions as the security guard escorted her out of the building.