Office Grump An Enemies to Lovers Romance - Nicole Snow Page 0,138

the amicable route. Move on with my life, let her move on with hers. If she comes back to work, the job is hers. If she quits, give her a generous severance package.”

But if she comes back to work, will I be able to keep my distance? Will I be my dad?

I don’t have an answer and it makes me want to fling my desk over the second Ruby leaves.

“That’s not a good idea.” Ruby shakes her head. “Severance packages are for when people are forced out due to circumstances beyond their control. I don’t recommend it. It opens you up to liability. It’s like an admission of guilt.”

And? I am fucking guilty.

“I’ll deal with it when the time comes,” I say.

She doesn’t say anything but makes no effort to exit my office.

“Yes?” I ask, glaring at her.

“Can I say something, Mag?” She hesitates.

“It’s not like you’ve ever asked permission before.”

“If you ended it ugly and then you give her severance for quitting, she’s going to be justifiably pissed. If you’re after an olive branch, this isn’t it.”

“Why would she be upset that I gave her something?” I ask, scowling.

Ruby laughs. “You’re such a guy. A severance package isn’t flowers or jewelry or an apology. It’s a kiss-off, and not a very nice one.”

“Bull. She can’t pay her rent with trinkets or words.”

Ruby looks at me.

“You know, I’m starting to see how a billionaire with abs stays single.”

“What the hell would you do then?” I roll my eyes right out of my head.

“If you’re asking your HR Director...you apologize. Then if anyone asks for a reference, keep it honest and glowing, but leave out the part where she abruptly quit. If you’re asking your friend, you still apologize for being a raging asshole. Next, you swallow your pride and make things right with your girl.”

Damn her to infinity.

She’s so right it hurts worse than another scorch-mark slap to the face.

“Ruby, I need to let it go,” I whisper, hating how fucking frayed I sound.

She shrugs. “It’s not my call. I’m just mad I have to replace an amazing EA.”

That evening, I storm into the car and throw my briefcase down. We’re already moving before I realize Armstrong’s usually warm greeting isn’t there.

“How’s it going?” I ask, looking up to meet his eyes in the mirror.

“Fine, sir.”

He’s not fine.

The drive home passes in grim silence. I get the feeling that he, too, would love to smack me upside the head with Ruby’s damnable smart stick.

I don’t care.

By the time he pulls up to my building, he still hasn’t said more than two words.

I put my hand on the door handle, ready to get out of the car, when Brina’s face pops into my head.

Is he still driving her around? I don’t want Sabrina lingering around bus stops after what happened to Marissa. If anything happened to her, I’d be tainted forever.

“Listen, starting today, I want you to check in with Miss Bristol to see if she needs a ride anywhere,” I tell him.

“No need, sir. Brina bought a car.”

“She—what?” My next words catch in my throat.

That speaks volumes. She’s truly done with me. And why in blazes am I hearing about Sabrina’s car purchase from my driver?

Because you told her to get lost in a hospital, you dumb fucking moose.

“Good. She’ll be back soon since she has a car payment now,” I say absentmindedly.

“She paid cash,” Armstrong tells me with a sigh. “I was there to help.”

Lovely. Now, not only do I suspect he thinks I’m a fool, I get the distinct feeling Armstrong is on her side.

“If she bought a cash car, is it safe?” That’s the question I ask, but what I really mean is, should I have the damn thing towed for repairs and then returned?

“I made sure it was, boss. Someone has to care for the girl.”

Yep. Suspicions confirmed. Armstrong has flipped.

Traitor.

“What did she say to you?” I growl out. “About me? About us?”

He looks into the rearview mirror so he can glare at me without turning his head.

“She didn’t have to say anything. When a woman climbs into a car sobbing and demands to go to an apartment she hasn’t slept at in weeks, you don’t have to be a love doctor to figure that one out. Now if you’ll excuse me, Mr. Heron, we’re starting to cause a backup...”

“Of course.” I exit the car with a sigh and head upstairs to my empty home.

I pace around the kitchen and reach for a scotch bottle, sloshing