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He practically throws the manuscript across the desk, and I want to tell him what a sniveling little shit he is, and no one can stand him, but I don’t. This exchange makes me think that ending it with Jordan is the best thing possible. I can’t date him knowing Nicky is his stepbrother, and eventually, we will meet in some social situation.
When I get back to my desk, my face must be bright red because Angie is looking at me with worry.
“So, what did dickhead want?”
I hold up the manuscript, “He said the work was subpar, and I need to go through it again. I have until Wednesday to hand it back to him. Can you believe that asshole,” I whisper.
“Yeah, I can. He has had an erection for you since he got here. I don’t think he gives anyone as hard a time.”
“I agree. I have no clue what I did to him.”
I sit down and bury my nose in chapter one. I find one or two missing edits by the time I hit chapter six. I’m not sure what bug crawled up Nicky’s ass, but my edit is the first. The proofers would catch things that were missed though so far I haven’t found much.
I manage to knock off twenty-six chapters by the end of the day. So that’s good because I have two more days to get the rest finished. I decide to stay and work on as much as I can. My office is not that far from Jordan’s, and I already texted him the address of a small coffee shop near his place.
Angie hugs me goodbye and tells me to cheer up. Maybe Nicky will get hit by a taxi on his way home. I can only hope. By 6:45, I manage to work my way to chapter forty-one. Really, there were twelve slight edits that I missed but nothing major. I head to the bathroom to freshen up my makeup before I leave. The entire floor is deserted, but as I near Nicky’s office, I hear noises.
As I get closer, it’s obvious some kind of sex act is going on inside. He stupidly left the door ajar, and from my vantage point, I can see him fucking one of the interns. She’s bent over the desk, and Nicky is slamming his hips against her ass, just what I didn’t want to see. I search my brain for her name, Sasha.
I hurry away before they catch me. I can use the lobby bathroom to fix my makeup. Ugh, I can’t get that sight out of my head. Why the hell couldn’t he take the girl home? I’m right about his penchant for young women. The one he was fucking is just nineteen. Sasha assisted me with one of my spreadsheets a few weeks ago and told me she was a freshman at NYU. She’s an English major.
The lobby bathroom is being cleaned when I get down to the main floor, so I’m going to have to make do with my compact mirror while sitting on a bench. When I finish, I head to the coffee shop several blocks away. It’s a beautiful evening, and the sun is just starting to sink in preparation for darkness.
The coffee shop is only half full, and I order a large cappuccino and find a seat in the corner away from other patrons. I don’t want to be in earshot when I tell Jordan it’s over. He’s late, and I wonder if he decided that I just wasn’t worth his precious time. Fifteen minutes later, he walks through the door dressed in a black suit, crisp white shirt, and black tie with his phone pressed to his ear.
Jordan scans the shop and zeroes in on me. I give him a small wave, and he holds up his finger then turns to order from the counter. My stomach is in knots. I’m not sure if it’s from the scene at the office or that I have to hurt Jordan. I don’t want to, but it’s for the best.
Jordan comes to the table with a large cup of coffee with no top. Steam rises from the hot liquid as he sits down.
“I would say that it’s a pleasure to see you again, but I have a feeling that this is not for pleasure. What do you need to talk to me about?”
His voice is stern and businesslike. I don’t know if it’s a defense mechanism, or he hasn’t switched gears into his private mode yet.
I lower my voice, “This is hard for me to say, but we shouldn’t see each other anymore.”
“Why?”
“You neglected to tell me a few things.”
He runs his hand through his thick hair, “Such as?”
“Your stepbrother is my boss, and your stepfather is the owner of the company I work for.”
“Emma, did you ever tell me what publishing company you worked for?”
I think. Did I tell him that I worked for Scarborough?
“I thought I did,” I quietly say.
“You didn’t. I would have told you that I was related to them. You’re going to hold it against me for having a relationship with my stepfather and brother?”
“It could get messy.”
“How so? I have nothing to do with Scarborough Publishing.”
His phone rings, and he almost violently jams the button to send it to voicemail, then powers it down.
“Your brother hates me. He makes my life miserable on a daily basis.”
