Raine (Gods of the Fifth Floor #2) - M.V. Ellis Page 0,97

be. But despite me asking him to call me Noa at work, he only ever did in private, or when he was ultra-mad with me. The rest of the time, he called me anything but. We’d also kind of fallen into a routine over the past few weeks, where we’d gotten good at keeping things strictly professional at work, and kept our contact during office hours to a minimum.

If we did need to catch up about business stuff, we generally did it in Raine’s office, which, apart from the occasional larger all-department gathering in the boardroom, was where most creative conversations involving him happened. The mountain very rarely came to Mohammed, as he now was, and the mere sight of him standing over my desk, glaring at me as though I’d shat in his sandwich, had eyes on us, and ears pricking up all over the room.

“Hi. Can I just—”

“Now! Don’t make me lose my fucking shit and cause a scene in front of all of these people.” I strongly suspected that particular train had already left the station, but I kept my suspicions to myself. I jumped from my seat and scurried after him as he stomped his way across the department, in the opposite direction to the way he’d come. I tried to pretend everyone in the room hadn’t stopped what they were doing to stare at us, but in reality, the floor would be buzzing with talk as soon as we were out of earshot.

I caught up with Raine at the elevators, where he was jabbing incessantly at the call button, seeming to get more agitated with every second that went by.

“Hitting the button repeatedly doesn’t make it come any quicker.”

“Don’t fucking push me, Noa. The way I’m feeling right now, it will not be pretty.” It already wasn’t, but again, I kept my thoughts to myself, and on reflection, I figured it was better for him to take out his frustration on the button, than punch a hole in the wall.

When the elevator arrived at the ground floor, Raine sprang out of it before the doors were fully open, and again I had to sprint to keep up with him as he darted angrily across the foyer, out through the automatic sliding doors, and into the busy Brooklyn street.

I’d thought for a moment that he was going to head to the parking garage, and take off completely, but instead, he strode off down the street. I trotted along beside him with no idea where we were headed, or whether I should risk having my head torn from my shoulders by asking.

Just as I was about to get up the courage to inquire about our destination, he turned into a little pocket park a few doors down from the BR&ND building. Despite the feeling of impending doom, I followed him in, figuring that there was a limit to how much damage he could inflict on a Tuesday morning in broad daylight. And, truth be told, I knew he wouldn’t do anything to hurt me, no matter how angry he was—at least, not physically.

Once we were in the middle of the park, Raine turned to me, his stance ready for a fight. Maybe I’d been wrong about him not hurting me, after all.

“You’re fired.”

“What?”

“You heard me. When you get back to the office, I want you to pack your shit, walk out the door, and don’t look back. I never want to see you again. Actually, scratch that. Don’t even go back. I’ll have Angie pack up your shit and send it to you.

“But... you can’t do this. I haven’t done anything. I can sue you for unfair dismissal, or whatever. You can’t just fire someone with no explanation, no formal procedures, nothing. There’s a disciplinary procedure.”

“I don’t care. Sue me if you like. My lawyers will make hamburger meat out of your claim.”

“You think so? When I tell them you hired me, then fucked me, then promoted me, then forced me to take the job, then fired me once you got bored, it won’t look particularly good on your part.”

“Maybe not, but once I reveal that you broke the confidentiality clause in your contract out of spite after I ended things, then it doesn’t look good on you, either.”

“Except it wasn’t a breach of my NDA, because the information was only shared internally. I didn’t leak anything externally.”

“The NDA still stands. You were working as my PA, which meant that you were witness to private medical information