Page 97 of All In: The Price We Pay

“Good morning,” I say, far too sweetly. I want to protest, catch up on my sleep. Forget about everything. But I don’t do any of that; instead, I trot obediently into my boss’s office.

“Close the door,” he says coolly.

Okay.

I close the door and sit, my tablet on my lap.

Without any introduction, Simon taps away on his phone and hands it to me. In the picture shown on the screen, Evan and I are clearly recognizable. Right in the middle of the open-plan office, in a passionate embrace, with our tongues buried deep in each other’s throats.

“Where did this get posted?” My voice is hoarse. I feel dizzy. My blood pressure drops. No, the adrenaline is pumping through me so hard I’m about to piss myself. I tap my tablet and immediately start searching. Why haven’t I found it yet?

Simon grabs his smartphone. “Nowhere.”

I hear the word but can’t process it. The meaning sinks in. I lift my gaze up from my tablet. “What do you mean, nowhere?”

He nods and stares at me blankly. “Exactly what I said. Nowhere. I took that picture yesterday.”

A wave of cold and heat washes over my body at the same time. Relief. That’s good. Very good. Simon would never post that. A warning shot. A laugh wells up inside me, but I suppress it. Damn. That was close. But everything’s fine.

“Oh. That’s good?”

“Good?” He hisses the word.

I raise my hands in a soothing gesture. “I mean . . . no, of course not good, it’s just . . . ”

Simon raises his chin. “Quiet. Even though the picture speaks for itself, I wanted to give you a chance to speak your mind. After all, you’ve been with us for five years. So?”

“So? I’m sorry. We should never have been here.”

Simon stands up, leaning forward and resting his hands on the table. “Here? This wasn’t a onetime thing?”

Hesitantly, I take a step back. What does he want to know? “Does it even matter?”

He sits back down and nods. “No. You’re right, it doesn’t. You’re fired. You have exactly ten minutes to pack your things; I’ll notify security to escort you out.”

I stare at him. My brain is once again struggling to process the information. My palms are getting sweaty. He can’t be serious. “Simon.”

“No. There’s one basic rule in this company, and you know it. Keep your hands off the clients. It’s in every damn quarterly memo from the compliance department, it’s in your employment contract, and it’s in every annual update from HR.”

“But I’ve stepped back from Evans’s case. Carly’s handling everything.”

Simon’s eyes widen. “That’s why? It’s been going on that long?”

We stare at each other. I can’t respond.

“That’s completely irrelevant,” he continues. “No one who works here fucks a client, goes out drinking with them, helps them throw up, or drives a car with them without a license. No matter why these people come to us, we take excellent care of them. The only thing my employees need to keep in mind is that they don’t make whatever their clients are accused of any worse. I have no prejudices against anyone. I couldn’t care less if a Valentina Garcia snorts her food only to spit it back out a second later. As long as none of my staff are there to hand her a peacock feather. Parker, you’re not so stupid that you don’t understand that. As far as I’m concerned, you can fuck the entire New York Monarchs team. But not the guy who pays us to make the world believe he’s the straightest stud who ever lived.”

His tirade hits me like a ton of bricks. I’m unable to say a word in my defense.

“Parker, I don’t give a shit about you, I don’t give a shit about Evan Sinclair. But I do give a shit if Derek and all his manager buddies stop sending their guys to us and start sending them to someone else who can keep his dick in his pants.” He holds up his phone. “If this gets out to the press, it’ll look bleak for our agency. I’ll probably have to shut the place down. And this place means more to me than my balls.”

“Simon, it’ll never happen again.”

“You’re absolutely right. It’ll never happen again, because as of now, you no longer work here. Here you go.” He slides a letter across the table to me. “Your written termination notice, complete with a legal statement from HR. The only reason I’m not suing you for attempted defamation is that I have a soft heart.”

My hands are shaking as I take the piece of paper. “Okay.” My mind is foggy. I’m unemployed. We got caught. Evan is safe. I have to get out of here.

Without another word, I leave. Simon is right on my heels. “Carly,” he barks across the desks. “Come to my office.”