Total pages in book: 153
Estimated words: 153935 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 770(@200wpm)___ 616(@250wpm)___ 513(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 153935 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 770(@200wpm)___ 616(@250wpm)___ 513(@300wpm)
“Of course not,” Angie says with a grin.
“Never! Because no matter what you think, if you hadn’t rescued that meeting, I’d be one more warning away from an unemployment claim today,” Hugo says, scratching his shoulder nervously.
He’s exaggerating, right?
The office can’t really be this scared of Magnus the Ridiculous all the time.
Armstrong isn’t. Neither is Ruby. They have stories about him and his big heart. It must exist behind his vault of a scowl...somewhere.
“I’ve got your back,” I tell them. “If you need me to step up and tell him the truth, I will. He doesn’t scare me.”
“Not yet,” Hugo whispers, looking away.
“Don’t make it a habit. No one wants you gone, either.” Angie runs a hand across her braids.
Hugo shakes his head. “I don’t think he’ll fire her unless she really tees him off. Mag puts up with stuff from her he wouldn’t take from anyone else. I mean, she spit on him and he gave her a job. I was there!”
I laugh, but it does make me wonder. Why did he do that again?
And if I was supposed to be such a perfect fit, and I screwed up by inserting myself into that meeting...why didn’t he fire me?
I shake my head. “When you put it that way—”
“If it was anyone else, you’d be explaining how the latte spray was an accident to a judge,” Hugo says.
“Really? Over some coffee?” What the hell is wrong with this guy? And what’s so special about me? He did have his eyes on me the whole time. Or was it just my cleavage? “Maybe he needs to chill out and get his mind off torturing people. If it’ll help, I’ll start wearing a lower-cut top to help him check his ego at the door.”
Clearly, I’m joking, and I’m expecting a round of easy laughs.
It never comes.
Angie bites her lip. They both go quiet, exchanging a look like I’ve just dredged up a murder case.
Silence surrounds us.
“I’d better get to work. Everybody’s favorite Chicago hot dog chain wants their latest video edits done and sent over by tonight. I’m sure you two can finish up the feedback on the new mock-ups. Hit me later when you’ve got something.” Angie walks away.
Was it something I said?
Hugo looks around like he’s making sure it’s still just us.
“So, Brina...don’t do that. Please,” he says.
Huh? What did I say that caused such a dramatic reaction from a guy who was just profusely thanking me for saving his job?
“Do what?” I ask, cocking my head.
He scans the room again. “Don’t get risque with anything you wear to this office. I’m the last guy who wants to tell a girl what to wear, but anything lower cut than what you have on now...bad idea. Don’t even joke about it.”
Lower cut than what I have on? I look down. It’s basically a normal dress.
I’m almost offended, but I hold it in.
He lets out a huge sigh that shakes his massive shoulders. “Sorry, Brina. I’ve upset you. I can tell from your face. I’m just trying to help you the same way you did me, I promise. After the crap that went down here years ago...let’s just say Heron doesn’t take the slightest hint of office fraternizing lightly.”
“Fraternizing?” My brows go up at the strange, heavy word. “Is this like the military or something? And what happened?”
Hugo shakes his head. “I can’t talk about it. I’ve already said more than I should. No one around here talks about it for a reason.”
I look up at the old-school clock overhead, what looks like an antique from an old fire station or something. It hasn’t moved for the last five minutes. Oh, God.
“Your clock’s broken.”
“Huh?” Hugo turns and glances over his shoulder, then looks back at his phone. “Dang. Looks like you’re right. We’ll have to swap out the batteries.”
As if I needed a sign from the universe that’s as subtle as a falling piano to the head. My 'silly superstitions,' as Paige would say, exist for a reason.
This conversation is a warning. A bad omen. The broken clock proves it.
Trouble is, I’m not sure what exactly I’m being warned about.
What dark secret has them walking on eggshells?
“Can you at least tell me why he’s so up in arms over women’s clothing?” I blurt it out before I can stop myself. I have to know.
Is he just a pig on top of being an arrogant asshole? Bizarrely, he doesn’t really strike me as the type—not like that Chester Stedfaust guy who couldn’t rip his greasy eyes off me.
I take a deep breath. “You’re saying he doesn’t like women wearing sexy clothes, or what, Hugo?”
“Basically, yeah. It’s not because he’s psycho or a gross old fogey. It’s just...he has his reasons, and everybody who’s been here long enough respects the rules.” Hugo nods, sweat beading on his brow. “He hates flirting or anything that’d encourage it in this office. He’s axed people over it. A lot of people.”