Page 69 of Hating the Boss

“Are you okay?” asked Trent, a concerned look on his face.

“Just fine,” I said, giving him a reassuring smile. “The tuna tartare might have been a little too spicy.” I didn’t even know what tuna tartare was, let alone if they were serving it, but Trent seemed to buy it.

“Noted,” he said. “Well, I better get back to my date.” He searched the room, and I followed his gaze, until it landed on a blonde-haired woman who could walk any New York runway. Her hair was short, heightening her sharp, yet stunning features.

I watched as Trent weaved his arm around her with comfortable ease, his thumb stroking the skin of her back exposed from the low cut of her dress. I felt a slight feeling of envy seeing the two of them together. I wished Brad would come back already. I took a sip of my sparkling juice and glanced around the room, feeling awkward as I stood by the dance floor by myself.

Why did he leave me?

And why hadn’t he come back yet?

“Looking for someone?” a woman’s voice interrupted my thoughts, melodic and cool.

I turned to see a striking woman smiling at me, her teeth whiter than the orange blossoms that hung above us. Her navy eyes glittered underneath the overhead spotlights as she looked me up and down curiously.

What was it with Manhattan women? They were all so ridiculously gorgeous, making me feel even more out of place than I already did.

“Um, yes. My date,” I said with a weak smile.

“Abandoned you already?” She laughed softly.

“Something like that.”

“Typical for these men. Always talking business and leaving us women to fend for ourselves.” She took a sip of champagne. Real champagne. Leaving a stain of red lipstick on the glass.

“I’m Angela,” she said, holding out her hand.

“Sarah,” I said, shaking her outstretched well-manicured hand.

She had an expression on her face that I couldn’t quite read, and wasn’t sure that I liked. Like she had some sort of secret I wasn’t privy to, but should be. I swallowed the feeling down with another sip of my sweet, bubbly drink.

“I know you…” she said, tilting her head slightly, her chestnut hair following the movement and cascading over her bare shoulder.

“I don’t think so,” I said.

“No, I do. You’re Brad’s Sarah, aren’t you?”

I had never heard my name belong to his before, and my heart fluttered slightly at the sound. We had been convincing enough that strangers had gotten wind of our relationship. We had been convincing enough because it had become real, or so I hoped. I hoped we would talk about it at the end of the evening.

“That’s me.” I shrugged, the diamond necklace shifting across my collarbone.

“Oh, honey…” she said, her voice suddenly full of remorse as her curious expression pulled into a frown.

“What?” I asked, confused.

“I’m Brad’s fiancée…” she said.

I shook my head slightly, not sure if I was hearing her correctly. Maybe the music was too loud and had skewed my ears.

“That’s right. I’m Brad’s fiancée,” I said with a nod, thinking that must have been what she had said.

She laughed through her nose and lifted her hand to her ruby red lips to cover her amusement.

“Oh, honey,” she said, reaching for my arm and gently placing her hand on it.

There she went again with that condescending “oh honey.”

“He hasn’t told you…”