Caribbean Crush Read Online R.S. Grey

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Contemporary Tags Authors: R.S. Grey Advertisement

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I see red.

Then I see maroon.

Then black.

I risked it all—Phillip’s wrath, my journalistic integrity, my fucking morals—for this?

With shaking hands, I click reply to Gwen’s email.

I’m happy you are pushing forward with the story, though I think there’s been a bit of confusion on my part. I saw this assignment as a stepping stone—a transition of sorts. I’m hoping to be considered for more writing assignments in the future. I feel as though I’ve paid my dues with fact-checking over the last few years and well . . . I thought maybe this would be my way of proving how serious I am about getting out in the field a little more. Could we discuss this possibility when I get back to town?

Her reply is almost instantaneous. I picture her sitting at her glass-topped desk in her posh office in New York City, sipping her latte, unbothered by the world that exists thirty floors below her.

Casey, yes, confusion most definitely. Bon Voyage doesn’t have any open writing positions at the moment.

Be sure to complete that Lancaster story for Mark, thanks.

Adrenaline courses through me; my world narrows down to that laptop screen, my body quaking as I type.

And if I pressed you to consider a promotion now, rather than at some ambiguous time in the future, would you be willing to work with me? At least to meet with me about it? I’ve been with the company since college and I’ve been loyal to a fault. This is sort of a deal breaker for me . . .

I hit send and then sit there hoping her reply won’t come as quickly this time, hoping she actually takes a moment to consider what I’m asking and how important this is to me.

Then my inbox pings, and my heart sinks.

Right, Casey. I’m hearing you loud and clear and my advice is very simple: reconsider that ultimatum.

You have a good thing going in your position and you, more than anybody, should realize how difficult it is to get your name on bylines. Gabriel interned with us for three years before he was ever given an assignment! Now, I understand you’re hungry and I like to see your enthusiasm. That’s just what Bon Voyage needs! I might be able to chat with HR to see about getting you a little bump in your salary. ;) No promises, but I’ll see what I can do.

Gabriel interned for three years . . .

Three years . . .

Is she serious right now?

Is she fucking serious!

I interned for four years—all through college, all unpaid. Then, then, once I graduated, I took the lowliest position they would give me, just to get my foot in the door. I was told there was a pecking order in place, that if I was willing to stick it out for a year or two, they could find a spot for me on the journalism team. Now, I realize that was never going to happen. Years have slipped by. I’ve taken on the grunt work as a fact-checker, and I’ve kept my head down. I’ve never asked for an extension on a project. I’ve never slacked off. Hell, I’ve never even asked for a raise!

I feel like I’ve been slapped across the face.

Time seems to stand still as I sit there letting tears roll down my cheeks.

I’m surprised at how many come, at the well of anger and indignation I feel over Gwen’s brush-off. It’s clear she has no intention of promoting me, ever. I feel so completely used and led on. Worse, I feel stupid, like this is somehow my fault. Maybe I should never have accepted such a lowly position in the first place, maybe I should have fought harder, forced a meeting with Gwen, really put myself out there. Maybe as my grandmother was dying of cancer I should have been caring more about my career and how to trample my way to the top. Apparently, toiling away as a quiet worker bee gets you absolutely nowhere.

I’m nothing to Gwen. I’m nothing to anybody, and that realization comes like a searing stab in the gut. I want to keel over and give in to the overwhelming anger.

It’s not fair. This life is not fair.

I want to rage.

I want to fire off another email right away. I want the satisfaction that would come from telling her off. I could put in my two weeks’ notice and revel in that power.

Instead, I sit numbly, letting my laptop fade to black as it goes to sleep. I see my reflection in the shiny screen. A lost, lonely girl, unsure of her future now more than ever.

Sometime later, there’s a knock on my door.

Sienna’s sweet voice. “Casey? You in there?”

I don’t reply.

“Casey?” she asks again, knocking a little harder.

I listen to her footsteps as she walks away down the hall. Then I shoot to my feet and run for the door, flinging it open and calling out to her.


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