Book 4 - Page 88 (1/2)
I could feel my face heat with angry tears. Young girls cry; I didn’t want him to feel justified in his insult. I blinked several times, determined that no matter what happened, I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing what this was doing to me.
“Can I speak to Mr. Corbett?” I said as smoothly as possible. “I think I need someone else to explain what’s happening.”
“Richard has given me the power to make any and all decisions affecting my department.”
Fire lashed through my blood. I couldn’t hold it back. “So, to be clear, you urged Niall to get a leg over on me, and now you’re firing me because you think he has.”
Anthony’s head whipped up, eyes full of blazing authority. “I dare you to say that again.”
“Clearly,” I said, seething, “I choose to leave the interns.h.i.+p. This has been one of the most unreal conversations of my life.”
“In that case,” he said absently, scribbling another signature, “I’ll put a letter in your file. I’ll see that you have a copy before you leave.”
The rain had stopped and I took a walk to clear my head, far enough away that I could hear the chimes of Big Ben in the distance. Out of instinct I reached into my pocket to find my phone, only to realize it wasn’t there. I’d left it on my desk before talking to Anthony, thinking I was just going down the hall but then rus.h.i.+ng out before I could get it. I wondered if Niall had made it in yet, if he’d come looking for me, if he’d called.
And that’s when I realized how far this had gone, and that maybe there was a kernel of truth to what Anthony said. My first thought wasn’t about my job or the fact that I was five thousand miles away from home. It wasn’t where would I live? How would I buy food or pay the electricity bill? It wasn’t about my f.u.c.king spot at Oxford, either, or how long and hard I’d worked, or how much I’d sacrificed to get there.
It was about Niall Stella.
The object of my attention was pacing in his office when I returned and made my way down the hall toward my cubicle. He jumped when he saw me, reaching out to pull me inside.
“Where have you been?” he asked, closing the door behind us.
I must have looked even worse than I thought, because his eyes moved in a circuit from my wet hair and pale face, to my damp clothes and broken expression.
“That depends on what you mean,” I said. “First, I walked to work in the rain because I wigged out in your flat thinking I’d inadvertently manipulated you into having s.e.x with me.”
He started to speak, eyes wide and incredulous.