Raine (Gods of the Fifth Floor #2) - M.V. Ellis Page 0,71

professional working relationship. As long as we could both overlook the fact that we’d once been intimately acquainted, we’d be fine.

So, five weeks later, we’d settled into our new rhythm, and nobody would have known from observing us that there was anything other than business between us. I was still doing both jobs, and pretty swamped with work, which was good in some sense, as it gave me even less time to think about the awkward nature of the situation.

On the other hand, I was becoming increasingly frustrated with Raine’s inability to settle on a new PA. The pickings were slim with male PAs as it was, but it was an impossible task when he found fault with every single one, sometimes over seemingly irrelevant “issues.”

James must truly have been a unicorn if Raine had approved of him, and he’d managed to put up with his boss’s special breed of crazy for as long as he had. I was finding out the hard way that unicorns did not grow on trees. They were made of the blood, sweat and tears of desperate PAs, and I’d shed plenty of each of them trying to find my replacement.

I was going through the morning mail, which was never anything but stupid circulars and begging letters from charities whom I’d contact and ask to remove Raine from their mailing list. I really didn’t understand the point of snail mail. If something wasn’t in my inbox, as far as I was concerned, it didn’t exist.

At home I took everything directly from the mailbox to the recycling, and didn’t even bring it inside. I was on the verge of doing the same at work, but despite always getting the same nonsense, something kept me dutifully opening each envelope.

I was coming to the end of the stack for the day, giving each one a cursory glance before throwing it onto a pile for recycling. I had cause to pause at the last letter after I glanced at it. What the actual fuck?

I read it several times with trembling hands, wondering what to do with it or about it. I stared at it long and hard, my eyes clouding with tears at times, before leaving it on my desk to retreat to the restroom. I needed time to collect my thoughts.

I emerged from the bathroom with red-rimmed eyes, but a little calmer than I had been when I’d entered. I was thankful that it was still early, and I had the place largely to myself. In the ladies’ room I’d weighed up the best course of action as far as the letter was concerned. Should I pretend I hadn’t seen it? Should I approach Raine about it? Should I approach the other board members?

In the end, I’d come to the conclusion that there was only one thing I could do. I went into Raine’s office and left the letter on his desk, just like any other piece of mail that needed his attention—although it was far from being a normal letter.

I was so preoccupied both with my own thoughts, and with internet research, that I barely noticed Raine come in. Sure, I said hi and brought him his coffee, but I was there, yet not there. I should have known better than to fall down the search engine rabbit hole—there was so much unverifiable sensationalist bullshit there that it was a recipe for spiking my already-sky-high worry and anxiety.

It was the same when the rest of the management team arrived for Confession, then left an hour or so later. I greeted them all, but not with the same level of warmth or interest I normally would. I just ticked the box for the bare minimum acceptable level of civility, and left it at that.

Moments after they’d all left, Raine called me into his office.

“Nikolei. Come here, I need to speak to you.” I walked into the room with a sense of trepidation, though I had no idea why. As I stepped inside, Raine looked up from his tablet distractedly.

“Close the door.” I did as I was told. “What’s wrong with you this morning? You’ve been vague as fuck, and don’t seem yourself.” What? What’s wrong with me? Is this guy for fucking real?

“Vague?”

“Yes. You know what I mean. Absentminded. Not present. Not with it. Dropping the ball. Away with the fairies. Phoning it in. Lights on, nobody home. The synonyms are endless. Need I go on?”

“No. I know what you mean, I’m just not sure it applies to