Page 28 of Playing with the Boss
“I don’t even know what the fuck I did to piss you off in the first place,” he shouts in reply.
“Well that’s just perfect,” I mutter, taking my seat. Mason's admission simply confirms my suspicion—the guy is so ingrained in his entitled ways he can’t even see what would be insulting to the working class like me. “You really have no idea why I’m annoyed at you?”
He runs a rough hand through his hair, stance wide. “Clearly not, otherwise I wouldn’t have sat in here for the past ten minutes waiting for you to make the slowest goddamn trip from the parking lot in history.”
“Well excuse me for not sticking to a schedule I had no idea of.”
He matches the glare I paint him with. Asshole.
“Well?” A muscle in his jaw tics. “Are you going to enlighten me now?”
“I can’t believe I have to spell it out.”
“Humor me,” he bites, taking a step forward. “Because obviously, I’m nothing but a dumb male.”
“You’re a snob,” I snap. “You swan in here, throwing your weight around like we should all bow at your feet and grovel for our jobs, but it’s all just a big game to you, isn’t it?”
“How?” He drops both palms to the front of my desk, leaning into my space.
“You’re loaded,” I say with a huff, frustrated I have to spell it out for him. “You’ve got no idea how important people’s livelihoods are to them because should you lose yours, you have options.” I sigh, softening my tone as I continue. “Some of us need every goddamn dollar we earn just to stay afloat.”
“That’s what this is about,” he snarls. “You’re fucking insecure because of your perceived poverty.”
“It’s not perceived,” I cry. “I don’t have a dime in savings. Nothing. And the damn credit company is my bestie given the rate they send me mail.”
“So you’re bad with money.” He shrugs and straightens to his full height. “How’s that my problem?”
“Because you don’t get it.” I sink into my chair. “And yeah, maybe that isn’t your fault, but if entertaining your idea of a little fun puts my future in jeopardy, then I’m sorry—it was fun while it lasted.”
Mason turns toward the door with a sigh. His shoulders stiffen, hands punched in his pockets.
“So that’s it then.” The ice in his words sends goose bumps skittering over my skin. “You’ve cast this grand assumption based on what you think you know about me, and rather than take the time to get to know me properly, you’re going to sit on your goddamn high horse and play the victim?”
“Jesus, you’re an asshole when you lose.”
He turns, eyes dark as a malicious grin spreads across his lips. “Oh no, baby. Don’t fool yourself.” I watch with rapt fascination as he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth and releases it with a pop. “I didn’t lose. You did.”
My blood pumps furiously through me, my chest tight as I struggle to maintain the illusion of indifference. “Alf is in his office now if you’d like to go and, you know, withdraw my resignation.” I wave him off with the back of my hand.
Mason leaves without a backward glance, striding out of my office as though we just discussed last quarter’s sales and nothing more. I don’t even know if I can trust him to undo the damage he’s done.
If only I knew what kind of guy he was when I first laid eyes on him. Maybe then I could have avoided him altogether and saved myself the trouble.
It was a spontaneous hook-up with some guy in a bar that I didn’t know. It was a chance meeting in the workplace that should have stopped at that. It was never meant to make me feel like it does.
He was a moment of pleasure. A lapse of sanity.
So why the hell am I crying?