night. I was always happy when my parents moved somewhere with snow.”
“Where are they now?”
“You know, I’m not quite sure. Budapest, maybe. This week.”
He studied her in silence, the quiet stretching so long between them that she fidgeted, ducking her head, looking anywhere but at him. She hated when he looked at her, sometimes. She could never escape just how well he knew her. He’d been under her clothes, under her skin, and sometimes it felt like he had her figured out better than she ever understood herself.
And it pissed her off.
“Stop staring,” she hissed through her teeth.
“Mm. I was just wondering why you’re hovering around the door.” Evan gestured toward the chair opposite him. “Sit. Let’s talk.”
Yeah. Sure, that’s all it was. Zero rolled her eyes and stalked away from the door—and nearly tripped on her heels again. Cursing, she bent to yank them off, wiggling her toes against the plush pile of the carpet.
When she straightened, Evan was watching her with a broad grin. She pointed a finger at him and plunked herself down in the chair. “Not one word.”
“Wouldn’t have said a thing,” he said, right before adding, “…neon purple toenails?”
“Nothing in the corporate dress code about my feet.” She settled back against the chair and gave him a pointed look. “Musicals, hm?”
He scowled. “It’s not a musical. It’s a film.”
“A film where…they spend half their time singing.”
“ Not a musical ,” he growled, and she burst into laughter.
“Oh, just put some clothes on, Mr. Astaire.”
“I resent that. I wasn’t dancing. And I am dressed. A bathrobe is clothing.” He pointed a warning finger at her, then snorted and rattled his fingers over his laptop keys. “If you’re done being a brat, let’s get through this before you threaten to put one of those heels through my eye.”
“I’m listening. Thanks for the idea, by the way. I should’ve worn the stilettos.”
“Always happy to help.” He spun the laptop to show her the screen, littered with charts, graphs, business planning documentation. “Here. Start with this.”
This turned out to be the company’s five-year strategic business plan. Which involved outright cutting twenty percent of the workforce, and outsourcing another thirty percent overseas. Meaning half the company would be losing their jobs, and it looked like the majority of the cuts were hitting the lower tiers first.
Zero groaned, dragging her hands through her hair, tearing its neat twist out. “Tell me this wasn’t your idea. Because I will go home, get the stilettos, and come back .”
“Not my idea, no.” Evan watched her gravely. “The Board of Directors pushed this plan through months ago and kept quiet about it until they hired me to find the best way to implement it. They’re being underhanded about it. The whole ‘motivational speaker’ thing is just a smokescreen for testing who kisses ass well enough to stay.”
“And you can’t do anything about it?”
“I’ve tried.” Rough warmth suddenly captured her hand under the table, his fingers curling around hers, gripping tight, holding her as surely as his gaze held hers. “I’m just doing what I’m paid to do, but I’ve already told them it’s a bad idea. It’s going to cut into the company’s reputation when performance and customer satisfaction go down, and people will start trusting other brands instead of yours. It’s a losing business in the end. Keeping the current workforce as-is and keeping you happy is worth the investment, but they don’t want to hear that.” He exhaled heavily. “I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, well…we’ve all got to make a living, I guess.” Zero tugged her hand from his and tucked her hair back, avoiding looking at him. She didn’t want to believe him, didn’t want to believe he was sincere , but when he looked at her that way…
“Z. Hey.” He leaned over, trying to catch her eye. “I can put in a
“Where are they now?”
“You know, I’m not quite sure. Budapest, maybe. This week.”
He studied her in silence, the quiet stretching so long between them that she fidgeted, ducking her head, looking anywhere but at him. She hated when he looked at her, sometimes. She could never escape just how well he knew her. He’d been under her clothes, under her skin, and sometimes it felt like he had her figured out better than she ever understood herself.
And it pissed her off.
“Stop staring,” she hissed through her teeth.
“Mm. I was just wondering why you’re hovering around the door.” Evan gestured toward the chair opposite him. “Sit. Let’s talk.”
Yeah. Sure, that’s all it was. Zero rolled her eyes and stalked away from the door—and nearly tripped on her heels again. Cursing, she bent to yank them off, wiggling her toes against the plush pile of the carpet.
When she straightened, Evan was watching her with a broad grin. She pointed a finger at him and plunked herself down in the chair. “Not one word.”
“Wouldn’t have said a thing,” he said, right before adding, “…neon purple toenails?”
“Nothing in the corporate dress code about my feet.” She settled back against the chair and gave him a pointed look. “Musicals, hm?”
He scowled. “It’s not a musical. It’s a film.”
“A film where…they spend half their time singing.”
“ Not a musical ,” he growled, and she burst into laughter.
“Oh, just put some clothes on, Mr. Astaire.”
“I resent that. I wasn’t dancing. And I am dressed. A bathrobe is clothing.” He pointed a warning finger at her, then snorted and rattled his fingers over his laptop keys. “If you’re done being a brat, let’s get through this before you threaten to put one of those heels through my eye.”
“I’m listening. Thanks for the idea, by the way. I should’ve worn the stilettos.”
“Always happy to help.” He spun the laptop to show her the screen, littered with charts, graphs, business planning documentation. “Here. Start with this.”
This turned out to be the company’s five-year strategic business plan. Which involved outright cutting twenty percent of the workforce, and outsourcing another thirty percent overseas. Meaning half the company would be losing their jobs, and it looked like the majority of the cuts were hitting the lower tiers first.
Zero groaned, dragging her hands through her hair, tearing its neat twist out. “Tell me this wasn’t your idea. Because I will go home, get the stilettos, and come back .”
“Not my idea, no.” Evan watched her gravely. “The Board of Directors pushed this plan through months ago and kept quiet about it until they hired me to find the best way to implement it. They’re being underhanded about it. The whole ‘motivational speaker’ thing is just a smokescreen for testing who kisses ass well enough to stay.”
“And you can’t do anything about it?”
“I’ve tried.” Rough warmth suddenly captured her hand under the table, his fingers curling around hers, gripping tight, holding her as surely as his gaze held hers. “I’m just doing what I’m paid to do, but I’ve already told them it’s a bad idea. It’s going to cut into the company’s reputation when performance and customer satisfaction go down, and people will start trusting other brands instead of yours. It’s a losing business in the end. Keeping the current workforce as-is and keeping you happy is worth the investment, but they don’t want to hear that.” He exhaled heavily. “I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, well…we’ve all got to make a living, I guess.” Zero tugged her hand from his and tucked her hair back, avoiding looking at him. She didn’t want to believe him, didn’t want to believe he was sincere , but when he looked at her that way…
“Z. Hey.” He leaned over, trying to catch her eye. “I can put in a
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