Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 89666 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 359(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89666 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 359(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
I could only stare dumbly at Janice, watching as her detached expression cracked. After a couple of seconds, she leaned forward. “I shouldn’t be saying this,” she whispered, “but I’ve already received several phone calls from other executives vouching for how wonderful you are at your job. They’ve all spoken on your behalf, but the chairman was firm on this. However, I negotiated a nice severance package for you. You’ll receive two full months’ pay…”
She continued to talk, but I couldn’t understand a word of it. Her words were white noise in my ears.
Sebastian didn’t rush through the door to save me.
He didn’t stop the one thing he’d promised wouldn’t happen.
I was fired, and now my mom and my brother would pay the price for my stupidity.
20
SEBASTIAN COURTLAND
Shit. Shit. Shit.
Everything started going to shit as soon as I opened my eyes this morning.
That damn fucking picture. Why would someone invade another couple’s privacy by posting something like that? Didn’t they know it was dangerous? That they could ruin someone’s life by doing that?
Not that the person had intended to harm us. No. I’d tracked down the original post. It had been a lovely thing about “Love is love” and supporting gay marriage. That was great, but it was fucking up my life right now. I’d be lucky if Byron ever wanted to marry me after this.
Except if there was blame to toss about, it fell squarely on my shoulders and nowhere else. This wasn’t Byron’s fault or the company’s or even the person who posted the picture. I’d been the one stupid enough to engage in a secret affair and then do something as mindless as kissing Byron out in public.
I knew better. Common sense stated that if you wanted to keep things a secret, you did them in private.
But I hadn’t been thinking clearly yesterday. Byron had been in a lot of pain—pain I hadn’t known he’d been dealing with for more than a decade. I’d been desperate to do something, anything, to make him feel better. That desperation had made me stupid.
Now I had to clean up my mess and do everything I could to keep Byron from being hurt by my selfishness and carelessness.
A text flashed across my phone from my father announcing he’d arrived and that we needed to talk. That was a fucking understatement. I left my phone on the charger in my office. The battery had already lost half of its life, and it wasn’t even nine in the morning.
As I charged out of my office, I paused for a heartbeat when I noticed Byron wasn’t at his desk, in the break room, or speaking to Kaylan, who was briskly answering calls. Maybe he’d stepped out to the bathroom to splash some water on his face and pull himself together. If we could get through these first few hours, everything would even out, and we could get to work.
I continued across the long hall to the other side of the floor, where my father maintained an office. It was smaller than my own since he stopped in the office only four to five times per year now that I had taken over as CEO.
I walked in without knocking just as his assistant, Bridget, was getting him a glass of water. She gave me a nod as she passed by me and hurried from the room, closing the double doors behind her.
The office was cold and emotionless, filled with lots of black and silver. The windows faced the north, giving a view of the other skyscrapers of downtown and one of the many hills that surrounded the city. Everything about the style of the room was old-fashioned and reserved. I hated this room. I wanted to redecorate it, but it wasn’t mine, so I didn’t touch it.
John Courtland sat behind the large desk in a leather swivel chair that dwarfed him. I hadn’t seen him in a few weeks, but it appeared as if his salt-and-pepper hair had become decidedly saltier. The wrinkles had multiplied on his face overnight and the line between his bushy brows was dug even deeper than normal. My father’s face comprised a lot of harshly carved features, as if the artist who made him couldn’t be bothered with smoothing him out to make him more handsome or kinder looking.
Dad and I generally got along. We frequently butted heads on several topics, but since retiring, he’d become more hands off with the company, content to let me run it how I saw fit.
Unfortunately, with the icy glare and frown directed at me, I got the feeling that today wouldn’t be one of those days.
“What the hell were you thinking?” my father growled so low I almost didn’t hear him, but somehow he still sounded as if he were shouting. “Do you have any idea how disappointed I am with you right now? How much you’ve tarnished the Courtland name? How you’ve damaged the company?”