Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 85484 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85484 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
“Absolutely.”
“You know, I can’t believe no one knew you’d been married before yesterday.”
The hair on the back of my neck stands on end, and I look up. He’s leaning against the doorframe. The man who hasn’t worn a tie in two years decided today was the day to break that streak.
He grins, taunting me.
Stay calm. “Do you know what I find odd? That you care.”
“I don’t care, Pippa. Don’t be confused. I’m just tired of working with a generation that thinks they deserve jobs they’re unqualified for and opportunities they have no business accepting because they’re special. That’s what I care about.”
I lift a brow. “Since we’re sharing, I’m tired of working with a crass man who thinks I’ll back down when he puffs up his chest and tries to look and sound bigger and more important than he really is. That’s what I care about.”
His hyena laughter goes right through me.
“I’ll see you in the conference room, Chuck,” I say before closing the door in his face.
My fists ball at my hips, and I shake with irritation. He’s trying to rattle me. I know this. I know this is a part of his game. But fucking hell, do I want to scream.
I give myself a few moments to cool off and slowly gather my things. Then I straighten my knee-length black skirt, adjust the white bow on my blouse that hangs off the side, and open the door.
“You okay?” Shelly asks, walking toward me. “I saw Chuck in your doorway and couldn’t miss the dickish look he wore when walking away.”
I paint on a practiced smile as we approach the conference room.
“Does he drive you as nuts as he does me?” she whispers. “He walks around here like he’s God’s gift to matchmaking when, if I were guessing, he hasn’t had a reason to use his cock since the eighties.”
I snort so hard that it scratches the back of my throat.
She gives me a megawatt smile and holds the door open for me.
The management staff, all eight of them, sit around the long granite table. Travel mugs full of coffee form lines down each side. Bridgit sits at the head on the other side of the room, looking as regal as ever.
My heart pounds as the weight of the moment comes over me. All the work I’ve done for the past couple of weeks comes to a head now.
I glance down the table, my gaze landing on Chuck. His smirk is deep and smarmy as if he has this in the bag. I wink at him, then redirect my attention to Bridgit.
“Good morning, team,” she says. A chorus of muddled greetings ring through the air. “While we wait on Todd to return with my coffee, I wanted to go over a few things—the first being acknowledging all the time and energy you all put into Bloom Match’s expansion. It truly means a lot to me. It’s my hope that we can eventually get to each of your ideas and bring them to fruition.”
The door creaks open, and Todd walks in. He hands Bridgit a mug of coffee, then takes a seat next to Chuck.
Each second that passes may as well be a month. My palms sweat, and there’s a spattering of perspiration around the band of my bra. I can’t adjust it without making a scene, so I squirm as discreetly as I can in hopes to get things in a more comfortable position.
I want to be selected more than I’ve wanted anything in a very long time.
I love what I do—helping people who want to be committed and in love find and keep that. It feels like I’m doing something productive, something good in the world. And after having parents belittle you, guilting you that if you don’t use your abilities and connections to become a surgeon—like you were born and bred to do—you’re wasting your life. You’re pathetic.
You’re a disappointment.
This selection would be a validation that I’m contributing, I’m growing—that I’m making a difference in the world. That my work matters, even if it’s not repairing children’s hearts or helping women with their reproductive systems.
I take a long, deep breath and blow it out slowly.
“Our decision today holds a lot of weight,” Bridgit says. “The direction we choose to move into, to grow into, will affect Bloom Match for years to come. It’s going to be a lot of work—require endless attention—and I’m going to need help.”
She looks at Chuck, then at me.
I hold my breath, silently pleading with her to spill it. Tell us who you choose.
“The person whose proposal we accept today,” she says, pausing for dramatic flair, “will be promoted to the head of the expansion team. Once the project is off the ground, they will take over as the department lead.”
Oh. My. Gosh.
I ignore the not-so-subtle attempt at stealing my attention as the room breaks out into chatter. No one expected this—least of all me.