The Game (12 page)

Christine leaned against the wall of my cubicle, shocking me. It unnerved me the way
she managed to sneak up like that.

“Looks interesting.” She nodded at my screen.

I wanted to shout at her to get her creepy self away from me.

“I can’t wait to see the entire presentation. When will it be done?”

“Thursday.”

“Awesome. I’ll make sure I have time to go over it with you.”

I didn’t want to go over anything with her ever, but it didn’t seem like I would have
much of a choice under the circumstances. Too bad because I loved this job and I’d
built up a good rapport with people. But I didn’t trust this woman. Could she manage
to get me to quit? Or even get me fired?

I dreaded the idea.

“I need you to look over some copy for me. I’ll email it to you. Can you stay late?”

I opened my mouth to protest and then closed it. “Of course.”

The woman was trying to goad me. I wouldn’t return the favor.

I smiled at her, and she turned and walked away, her tight ass in a pencil skirt swaying
back and forth. No wonder men found her sexy. I could see why Riley fell for her in
the first place. And she knew it too. She walked with her head so high it almost tipped
back.

Probably kept her from having to look down at the minions.

My computer pinged a few seconds after I watched her sit down behind the glass wall
of her office at the end of the row. I winced as I turned around and opened the document.

Some
copy? This was more like a day’s work. It wasn’t my job. There were other employees
who were paid to proof copy. Plus, I had my own project to finish. But that didn’t
seem to matter to Christine. It would take me hours to get it done. It was a full
brochure. No way in hell would I give her the satisfaction of finding a mistake anywhere
on the pages after I combed them.

I slumped back in front of my monitor and opened the first page.

Chapter Fourteen

When the alarm went off Tuesday morning, I was in worse shape than I had been the
day before. I’d worked on the brochure until after ten o’clock. She was probably doing
everything in her power to make sure I wasn’t with Riley. Why did she care who Riley
was dating a year after their split?

Was she trying to get him back? Not that I was concerned she would succeed. I was
simply concerned she would destroy me in the effort.

I groaned as I rolled over and stared at the clock. Apparently I’d already hit the
snooze button a few times. That’s how out of it I was.

Like a robot, I trudged through my apartment, bathing, dressing, primping, and eating.
I didn’t eat much—just toast—before I left for the office, but it was enough to get
me through the commute at least. I would grab a granola bar or a protein bar when
I arrived.

It was just past eight-thirty when I stepped off the elevator on the twenty-second
floor of my building. It was eerily quiet. Too quiet. I glanced around as I made my
way toward my desk. I was expected to be at my desk eight hours a day. For me that
meant nine to six with lunch. However, it was rare that I didn’t get in at least a
half hour early.

And most of the staff usually trickled in that early also. So it was a shock to find
the place vacant. And an even greater shock when I passed the conference room and
found it jammed full of my coworkers.

My face heated. Why was there a meeting I hadn’t known anything about?

I paused at the closed door and then opened it, still holding my purse and not bothering
to go to my desk.

“So nice of you to join us, Cheyenne,” Christine jibed.

Several people glanced my way.

“Sorry. Was there a memo about this meeting? I didn’t get it.”

“Goodness. The rest of the office received it. Do you suppose just
your
email isn’t functioning correctly?” Her voice was filled with attitude.

I swallowed. “Perhaps I overlooked it.” Fat chance of that, but what else could I
say? I reminded myself not to let this woman get to me. And I intended to keep that
promise.

“Well, join in. Try to catch up.” Her tone was unbelievable. Was I the only one in
the room who felt the slap? “I was just showing the group what not to do when editing
someone else’s work.”

I jerked my gaze to the screen in front of her, knowing in my gut I wasn’t going to
like the show.

And I was right. The brochure I had spent hours on last night was splayed open in
giant blown-up proportions, and Christine was circling items up and down the page
that were incorrect.

I was mortified. My face flushed deeper, my cheeks burning.

I pursed my lips and blended into the wall at my back.

As soon as she started speaking, I realized I hadn’t fucked up the copy. That wasn’t
what happened at all. It was much worse. This wasn’t the document I sent her last
night before I left. Either she had another version or she’d intentionally sabotaged
the one I worked on.

The word “bitch” took on a new meaning. She’d called the entire department in here
simply to humiliate me. Who did that? Why was she so damn angry with me for dating
a man she hadn’t been with in a year?

I held my breath while she continued to flip pages and critique God-only-knew whose
work.

Just when I thought she was going to keep the stab into my chest between just her
and me, she dropped the gauntlet. “Cheyenne, would you care to explain how this went
so poorly? Were you rushing? Do you not take your job seriously? We can’t possibly
send this sort of thing to press. Now I have to get someone else to do the work all
over again.”

I opened my mouth, fully intending to protest when I saw the gleam in her eye just
daring me to contradict her. Instead I found myself stooping lower than I had ever
stooped in my life. “I’m so sorry. I have no idea what went wrong. Perhaps I sent
you the wrong copy.” I met her halfway. I didn’t spit on her in front of everyone
else, nor did I admit defeat entirely.

“You’re all dismissed. Cheyenne please remain to discuss this.”

Stacy met my gaze with a wrinkle in her brow that said “I’m sorry you got in the way
of this crazy woman.” She didn’t know the half of it.

When everyone had exited, I approached Christine.

The door was still open. I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. “I’m
truly sorry, Christine. I’ll go look on my computer and see if I sent you an earlier
version instead of the final.”

“You do that, Cheyenne. And you need to pay closer attention to detail if you want
to remain with this firm. Talent Marketing Group is not the sort of place where slackers
last very long.”

I burned from head to toe. I wanted to reach out and slap the smug expression off
her face. My fingers shook and twitched at my sides as I curled them into balls to
keep from freaking out. “Of course. I’ll be more careful in the future.”

“See that you are.” Christine walked right past me without looking at me again.

I stared at the blank screen in front of me for several seconds. Finally, I took a
deep breath and made my way back to my computer. I turned on the monitor with shaky
fingers. Even Stacy didn’t stick her nose around the corner to question me.

Thank God.

I wasn’t in the mood for the third degree from her too.

I opened the file containing the versions of the brochure I had saved throughout the
evening and scanned up and down the list until I had the last copy picked out. I opened
it. It looked nothing like the one Christine had used for her little demo.

I pulled open the sent email and found that I had indeed sent Christine the correct
final version.

The woman was certifiable, and I was doomed.

Fuck.

I resent the email, not even bothering to send a new one. Let her figure out for herself
that I was on to her little game.

I didn’t bother to get up and go make sure she opened it. What difference would it
make with regard to her deadline? She had the correct copy all along.

There was nothing I could do at the moment except put my all into the project that
needed completion. Blocking out anything else was mandatory. And I did it. I worked
straight through lunch and didn’t start to look at the clock until four thirty. I
glanced several times down the row of cubicles to spot Christine’s location. I didn’t
want to be waylaid again this evening.

That was not going to happen.

At five minutes until five, I grabbed my purse from my drawer and reached to shut
down my computer.

“In a hurry, Cheyenne?” That voice. That fucking bitch. The mere tone made me cringe.

“Yes. I have to be someplace this evening.” I pushed the button to power off the computer
and turned around to stand. It was a lie, of course. I didn’t have a single place
to be other than where I currently was.

“That’s too bad. I was hoping you were a team player.”

I narrowed my gaze and fought the recurring urge to slap that look off her face. “Always.
But I was here late last night, and I have things to do this evening.”

“Last night’s bit of overtime was a waste though, wouldn’t you say? After all that,
you messed up the document. I could have had the janitor do a better job.”

I felt the flush return, but kept my gaze on hers.
Bit of overtime? That’s what she calls a four-and-a-half-hour project after closing?
It wasn’t as though I got paid by the hour.

“So sorry for the confusion this morning. I assume you got the redirected correct
document okay after the meeting?” I worded my phrase carefully, not taking the blame
for her obvious vindictive attempt to nail me to the wall. She held all the power
here, and she knew it. She would fuck with me until she had the ammo to fire me. And
then I would be doomed. The last thing I wanted to do was search for a job after getting
fired from Talent Marketing.

“I’ll be keeping a close eye on you, Cheyenne.” She said my name with such distain
I almost chuckled. I couldn’t begin to play in the big leagues with the likes of Christine
Parson. I needed to get my résumé out and fast.

But first I needed to tell Riley. I dreaded the conversation, but not as much as I
would dread facing him later if I didn’t tell him about this myself.

This sort of thing was exactly what I didn’t need this week while I was supposed to
be reflecting on our weekend and imagining myself in such an arrangement fulltime.

I hadn’t spent more than a few minutes pondering my new relationship since I’d woken
up Monday morning.

“I’m sure you will, Christine.” I lifted my chin high and made my way out of the office.
I didn’t pause to even breathe until I was in my car and pulling out of the parking
garage.

I drove on autopilot to a house I’d only been to one time.

And the arms of a man I’d had the glorious chance to enjoy for an entire weekend.

It took forever to weave through rush hour traffic in Atlanta.

As I pulled up to Riley’s home, I panicked. Would he be mad?

I dreaded the discussion. I hadn’t even called Amy today. There was no reason for
it. I didn’t need a pep talk to know it was time to give up my dream of fixing this
on my own.

I made my way toward the front door on leaden feet.

It took only moments for the door to open. But it wasn’t Riley I faced. It was Les.
Until that moment it hadn’t occurred to me that Riley might not be home. He worked
long hours after all. Nobody got rich leaving the office at five.

I felt decidedly inadequate in the face of this revelation, and I almost turned around
and headed back to my car to make an escape.

Les opened the door wider. “Ms. Decard. So good to see you. Come in.” He spoke as
though I owned the place and had every right to be there. What had Riley told his
staff about me? “Can I pour you a drink? You look a bit worse for wear.”

“No. Thank you. Do you know what time Riley’s expected?”

“I’m sorry. I don’t. But I could text him for you if you’d like.”

“Would you?” I was a nervous wreck. Putting this off would only make things worse.
There was also the distinct possibility he would find out about my predicament before
I had a chance to tell him myself.

Les reached into his pocket, pulled out his cell, and typed a quick text. “There.
Done. Now how about that drink?”

I nodded. A glass of wine might calm my nerves. “Thank you, Les. White if you have
it, or whatever’s open will be fine.” I followed Les deeper into the house and made
my way to the island where I dropped my purse on the floor and climbed onto a stool.

Seconds later I had a glass of cool white wine in my hand, and I took a deep, calming
drink.

“Would you like my wife to fix you something to eat?”

“Your wife?” I glanced around. I hadn’t realized we weren’t alone. Nor did I know
that Riley had staff fulltime in his home. No one had been around over the weekend.

Les smiled hugely. “Yes. Justine. She’s a fantastic cook. That’s probably the main
reason why Riley tolerates my sorry face each day. We’re kind of a package deal.”

I chuckled at the way his eyes twinkled as he spoke. He was the real deal. I loved
him already. “That’s okay. I’ve had a rough few days. I’m not quite ready to face
food.”

Les lifted one eyebrow. “Okay, but you let me know if you change your mind. I’m sure
Riley would be pissed if he found you here and no one fed you.”

“I’ll handle Riley. But thank you, Les.”

Now the man did chuckle, a deep belly laugh that reverberated through the kitchen
and perhaps half the house.

A shudder wracked my frame. Les knew. I had no idea how much of Riley’s lifestyle
he was privy to, but he knew enough to find my statement humorous. And he wasn’t wrong.