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Chapter Three
Ace
I would like to think there was a natural order to things, or that at least that should be the expectation, but what I was looking at said otherwise.
I had nine.
Nine interns, most of whom looked so scared to even be standing that they continuously shifted between each foot or rubbed their noses like they brought the plague into the office.
My eyes narrowed.
Dustin wasn’t helping. He was late. Again. And I needed him in order to continue with training the new interns, two of which were currently… I tilted my head, was one dude crying?
Oh, no, false alarm, sweat, only sweat, no big deal.
All nine of them lowered their heads when a door slammed behind them like they were afraid to make eye contact. Good.
Everyone was wearing the typical black and white uniform that Emory Hotels gave them. And I already hated them.
I hated this job.
I hated everything.
I’d been the last intern to go through the program and did so well that they moved me up to VP within a year, but nobody warned me that I’d be the boss to the sniveling idiots who showed up with stars in their eyes, multiple degrees, the desire to change the world but the inability to actually execute said change.
I sighed and prayed for more patience, knowing that no matter how many prayers I sent—I’d still have none.
I’d been like that for a while.
Angry.
Bitter.
Grumpy.
Whatever you want to call it, it wasn’t good.
And I want to blame it on her walking away, my past, just the situation I was put in but then I would end up resenting every single person I work with all because…
Of.
Her.
I took a deep breath and faced the interns, only to have the elevator open, revealing Dustin and someone short behind him.
Someone familiar.
Her hair was dark on the edges, lighter on the top, she had dark lipstick on and zero eye makeup.
I frowned and leaned to the side while Dustin waved at me. “Sorry, got the last intern, this is—“
“—Bri,” I said it like an exhale and curse at the same time.
She stumbled into Dustin’s back and paled, her eyes darted around the small boardroom before landing back on mine, like she was unable to look away. I could tell she wanted to. She always fidgeted when she was nervous, this time her hands were balled into small fists and her clearly worn-out clothing wasn’t helping things.
What the hell happened to her?
Followed immediately by what the hell happened to us?
