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“I hope his son won’t be involved,” I muttered, my irritation evident.
“James assured me he’s busy with other things,” Oliver replied.
“I’m sorry I created a problem for you,” I said, looking down.
“The problem wasn’t created by you. It was created by his son and nephew. You have nothing to feel guilty for,” he said firmly, lifting my chin to meet his gaze.
“I don’t feel guilty. I feel responsible,” I admitted, my voice soft.
“Why? Because you’re beautiful and men can’t behave around you?” He rolled his eyes. “How is that your fault?”
“I’m sure Lara wouldn’t agree,” I said, bitterness creeping into my voice.
“Lara is a cat with claws. Her beauty doesn’t compare to yours,” Oliver said, dismissing her with a wave.
“She’s a model. I’m sure plenty would beg to differ,” I said, my insecurity flaring up.
“Ryleigh, can we get back on subject?” he asked, his tone exasperated.
“Can we just move on? I want to discuss the weekend,” I said, taking a deep breath.
“We can leave on Friday afternoon, but I won’t be happy about it,” he said, a hint of reluctance in his voice.
“Who are we taking with us, besides Vlad?” I asked, trying to keep the conversation light.
“Brenda and Raquel, unless you want Trevor,” Oliver replied, his voice steady.
I nodded, feeling a bit of relief. Oliver usually had the female agents or Trevor travel with us. I was more comfortable with them than the new agents that had been added to the team. I didn’t know them as well, and they were all male.
“Vlad, Brenda, and Raquel are fine,” I agreed.
“Then it’s settled,” Oliver said, sitting down on the couch and spreading his arms along the back of it. He looked relaxed, a stark contrast from his demeanor this morning.
During a conference call, which I listened in on, one of his subordinates had questioned him about something Oliver had already gone over. He tore into the man, letting him know the time for questions on the subject should’ve been asked ten minutes before.
There was dead silence from the other members on the call. Oliver had woken up in a foul mood to begin with. I wasn’t sure what his problem was, and he didn’t elaborate, only answering me with one word when I asked a question during breakfast. By lunchtime, he had calmed, and now he looked very relaxed.
“How are you feeling?” I asked cautiously.
“I’m not sure what you mean,” he replied, raising an eyebrow.
“You were more than a bit short with Al Stebbins this morning,” I pointed out gently.
I saw Oliver’s jaw clench, but he didn’t change his position. “Al Stebbins is a jackass. He’s tottering on the line of being dismissed.”
“Why exactly? He seems to do good work,” I said, trying to understand.
“Yes, seems to. He takes credit for the work of others. I’ve been debating whether to let him go, but after this morning, I think I have my answer,” Oliver explained, his tone growing colder.
“He has a family,” I reminded him, hoping for some empathy.
“He should’ve thought of that before he pushed me. You would be wise to take a lesson from this. If you want to be a boss, part of the job is firing people. You can’t keep someone that is a detriment to the company employed because they have a family. Al has had more than one chance. Today was his third strike,” he said firmly.
I scowled. “I know part of the job as a boss is to fire people. I just want it done with some compassion.”
“He’ll be given a severance package even though he doesn’t deserve it,” Oliver said dismissively.
“If you say so,” I mumbled, feeling defeated.
