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“You’re telling me.”
On second glance, I realize Denise’s normal stick-up-her-ass demeanor is gone. Beads of sweat form a line on her brow. Her lipstick is slightly smeared below her bottom lip. She looks almost frazzled. Annoyed.
I’m going to regret this. “Are you okay?”
“No. No, I am not okay, Chase.”
Yep. Totally regret.
“Your marketing exec”—her tone implies incredulousness at that term— “just fired me.”
Whoa. Though Chris mentioned about Denise not doing her job, not once has Bell said anything about it. In fact, Bell hasn’t mentioned Denise at all since the email question over pizza at my place. Which now I find odd. Especially given their initial, frosty introduction.
I must show my surprise because Denise takes it as a green light to vent.
“I don’t care how often she’s putting out this time, Campbell’s overstepped.” Denise’s red lips suck in a large gust of city air before continuing. “I’m the one with experience and knowledge. I’m not the one with a history of fucking her clients for work, like some backwater, Southern—”
“What?”
The flutter of her lashes makes me wary. It’s like a viper trying to feign innocence to a mouse.
“Oh, poor Chase. You didn’t know?”
She’s lying. She has to be. Bell isn’t like that.
“You didn’t think you were special, did you?” She pats my arm, then loops hers through my own. The snake beginning its chokehold, going in for the kill. “I was there when Campbell Dougherty was fired the first time she got caught sleeping her way around the marketing pool.” Even smudged, her red lips form a devious smile. “Guess that’s why she changed her name and started her own firm. You know how word gets around in this city. No marketing firm would touch Miss Dougherty with a ten-foot pole.” She snickers at her poor attempt at a juvenile double entendre.
“You’re lying.”
With one quirk of her eyebrow, Denise is back to looking like a shark. “Please. I don’t need to lie when the truth is so much more damaging.” In one fluid motion, she pulls away from me, maneuvering around me and down the street.
“Oh, and Chase?”
Still stunned, her venomous words coursing through me, I turn toward her.
“I’m sure your father will be so interested to hear how you do business.”
* * *
“Chase?”
Auburn hair swings into the door frame, followed by brown eyes. Bell looks adorable poking her head into my office. Since the closet, since we stopped being wimps and owned up to how we felt, she seems… softer.
There’s still a vulnerability there, one I hate to see, but at the moment, sadly, it reassures me. I’m annoyed with myself that I’ve given Denise’s poisonous words any thought. I was the one who went after Bell. Not the other way around.
I have some serious shit-sorting to do if I’m damaged enough to believe Denise. Believe that the only reason Bell’s interested in me is because of my job title.
And what was Denise’s parting shot about? Why would my father care about Denise being fired?
“Is everything all right?” She steps fully into the doorway, straightening her skirt. The same skirt she pulled over her bare pussy because she’d used her panties to wipe my cum from her thighs.
Annnnd, I’m hard again.
“Yeah,” I say, needing to clear my throat. “Everything’s fine.” Shaking off the doubt and nagging worry, I stand, buttoning my jacket. “It’s quitting time. Why don’t you and I head back to my place?”
“Oh.” She grimaces. “All my stuff is back at the hotel.”
“That’s okay.” I brush off the reminder of her sneaking out on me. “We can live it up hotel-style then.” I cross the office to the walk-in closet (yes, this ridiculously large office has an actual walk-in closet), where I keep extra clothes. Grabbing a suit, I slide it into one of the garment bags, both of which Susan and George keep stocked, and drape it over my arm.
