I’ve been overloaded with work ever since Jack and I started Trinity Games. Unlike Jack, I never quit my old job at RedPress Software, which means I’ve been working about sixteen hours a day for the last year. Before Cami came along, I liked the challenge; I didn’t have much else to do, other than work. But now it’s becoming completely impossible.
Sighing, I swipe to answer the call.
“Bright,” my boss barks.“We need you in the office for the budget meeting with Marcellus. Where the Hell are you?”
I frown, racking my brain for the name. “Marcellus? You mean the investor?”
He sputters.“Of course I mean the bloody investor. You know any other pains in the neck called fuckingMarcellus?”
I swallow back a groan. Marcellus is a recent investor in the company. Apparently, he lost a lot of money after some startup he bought into failed last year, so now he’s decided that he’s going to oversee our financial decisions personally.
Which would be fine if he knew anything about finances. Or economics. Or computers. As is, he’s completely useless; all he does is ask stupid questions, but he’s so goddamn rich that we’re not allowed to say no to him.
“You didn’t tell me about any budget meeting,” I tell him.
He growls.“I sent you an email about this last night. Are you telling me that you haven’t done the presentation?”
“I’m tellingyouthat you haven’t told me about any presentation,” I bite out. “I can’t read your mind. I’m not bloody telepathic.”
There’s a long pause.“Check your email, Bright. And then get the fuck over here. Bring last quarter’s tier three education budget report. You can write the presentation in the car.”
The line goes dead. I swear, opening up my email and scanning my inbox. I could swear he didn’t send me a message last night.
He did. I need to be in the office in twenty-five minutes, and it’s a twenty-five minute drive.
“Motherfuck,” I swear under my breath, jabbing the button on my printer and loading up the budget report. The printer starts spewing out paper, and I pull open the door to my wardrobe, changing into clean clothes. My hands are shaking as I button my shirt. I can hear Cami giggling outside my bedroom, and the sound makes me wince. God, my fuckinghead.I lurch for the drawer under my desk and yank it open, patting around for a packet of ibuprofen. I’m pretty sure you’re only meant to take two, but I pop three out and dry swallow them, rubbing my throat as they stab the inside of my oesophagus. The printer beeps, and I grab the papers, pushing out of my bedroom.
I immediately trip over something. I get the vague impression of Beth sitting on the floor with Cami, surrounded by toys, before the papers go flying and I sprawl onto the ground. Pain sears through my head, stabbing like an ice pick behind my eye.
“Oh my God,” Beth says, jumping up. “Shit, are you okay?” She touches my back.
I shake her off me, sitting up and squeezing my eyes shut as I wait for the pain to fade. “Did I mess up my papers?” I ask tightly, rubbing my temple.
“Um… yeah, they’re kind of everywhere,” Beth says apologetically.
I groan, looking around me.
The room is a tip. The floor is littered with squashy pink cubes, spread haphazardly over the lino. My papers are mixed in with them, scattered and disorganised. In the middle of it all, Cami lays on her belly on a pink mat, watching me with big eyes.
Shit.
“For God’s sake,” I snap. “Would it kill you to not trash our flat? This is a bloody mess.”I gather up my papers, stacking them together. God knows how long it will take to get them in order again. Probably half an hour. Which I justdon’t have.I run a hand through my hair, panic flushing through me. I’m so screwed.
I stand, blinking back the starburst of pain behind my eyes. “Can you clean this up, please?” I get out through gritted teeth, bolting for the door.
“Sorry,” Beth says from behind me. Her voice sounds oddly quiet. “I—I’m sorry. I’ll clean it up.”
I barely hear her, grabbing my briefcase and heading out of the flat. It’s going to be a shitty day.
Nineteen
Beth
Later that evening, I curl up on the sofa, watching Cami sleep. It’s almost nine o’clock. I know I should go home, but I just can’t bring myself to. I want to see Sebastian again before I leave. To make sure we’re on okay terms, and he’s not just going to step back into the flat and immediately fire me.
I really need this job. If I get fired, I’m absolutely screwed. I’ll have to move out.I’ll probably have to sell all my stuff, too. I won’t even be able to afford a storage unit.
Just the thought floods me with anxiety. I’ve spent the whole afternoon and evening a nervous wreck, although I’ve managed to channel most of the stress into housework. Sebastian certainly can’t complain about the mess now; I’ve tidied away all of Cami’s toys, hoovered, cleared the countertops, done the dishes, and even cleaned the kitchen. The flat is sparkling. So he can’t be mad anymore, right?