Raine (Gods of the Fifth Floor #2) - M.V. Ellis Page 0,29

I’ve had, I need something to take the edge off. I’m calling it a win if I don’t drink a bucket of wine. Want to join me?” I raised the bottle I’d opened at the weekend to celebrate the new role, and then not finished, because I never did, and offered it to her.

“No thanks. I’m in bedtime mode. You knock yourself out.”

“That was the idea.”

“I didn’t mean it literally.”

“I know, but I need it literally.” I poured myself a standard glass, but when I saw how much was left in the bottle, I hastily poured it all in. It was an extra-large glass, but I didn’t doubt that it would get finished.

“That sounds epic. Here, sit.” She pulled one of the dining chairs away from the table for me. “Tell Aunty Michy all about it.”

Once I started speaking, I couldn’t stop. The words poured from me as though someone had cut me open and my stuffing was spilling out. I told her every detail I’d noticed about Raine from the moment I’d walked into the office until I left to go home, which turned out to be a lot of details.

Then I told her all about the meeting, and the project, finishing with Raine’s proposition. Unusually, Michelle was mostly silent throughout—she could normally be relied upon to offer up an opinion, or three, or ten, even when it wasn’t wanted or needed. Today though, she was worryingly quiet and attentive.

She just seemed to be soaking up what I was saying, and asking a few minor questions here and there, but offering no words in return.

Finally, my well ran dry and I stopped speaking abruptly.

“So?” I prompted.

“So what?” Her tightlipped approach was freaking me the fuck out.

“So, don’t just sit there. Say something.”

“What do you want me to say?”

“What kind of a question is that? I want you to say whatever the hell you want to say. Tell me what you think.”

“I think you need to call the temp agency and quit the assignment.” Wine that had been destined to slip down my throat at just that moment was swiftly ejected from my mouth and sprayed all over me, Michelle, and the kitchen countertop.

“What? Why do you say that?”

“Really Noa? Have you been out of the formal workplace setting so long you’ve forgotten what is considered normal and acceptable? I’ll give you a hint... this isn’t that. I mean the man obviously has an issue with boundaries, and respect, and women, and that’s just the tip of the iceberg by the sounds of things.”

“Okay, I’m not going to deny it, there is some truth to what you’re saying. A lot of truth, in fact. He was... extra, that’s for sure. He was almost a parody of the bad boy ad man, come to think of it. It was almost as though he was playing a character, rather than actually being himself. I mean, really, who the hell is like that? Like, one hundred percent of the time, deep down in their soul?”

“I’d like to think that nobody is, but I’m learning as I get older to expect less from people, because really, humans are assholes. Why do you think I spend most of my time hanging out with animals?” Michelle was a veterinarian. “They are much better. So, while we’d like to think, or maybe hope, that the guy isn’t a douche down to his core, we really can’t rule out the very strong possibility.”

“Hmm... true. But even if he is rotten all the way to the center of his being, there’s no denying that he’s smart, and good at what he does. Actually, that’s an understatement. Despite apparently not being able to remember a simple three-letter name—”

“See that right there is clear evidence of ingrained assholery. Of course, he can remember your name. I mean the fact that he went to the trouble of calling you every man’s name beginning with N, except Noa says it all. He was fucking with you. It was a power play, designed to let you know your place in the pecking order. And in case you didn’t get it, it’s at the bottom, just so we’re clear. Dogs do it all the time, by posturing—basically menacing another dog—and that’s essentially what he was doing.”

“Oh, I’m under no illusions about my place in the ranks. He made that abundantly clear in more ways than just calling me Ned, or whatever. Anyway, back to my point, he’s an award-winning creative director, and with good reason.