Page 62 of Handsome Devil

My lips still tingled every time I thought about that kiss.

I couldn’t face the public humiliation of taking my lunch alone, at my desk, knowing everyone around me hoped I’d choke and expire on it.

Sighing, I balled the empty wrapper in my fist and smoothed out my tweed dress. I stood up, unlatching the door’s lock when the clicks of Mary Janes echoed across the restroom.

I stilled. The sound of compact makeup mirrors popping open filled the air.

“Ohmigod, I literally cannotstandher.” The voice of the payroll administrator, Trisha, grazed my skin. Trisha and I used to be close. She even invited me to her bachelorette party last year.

I peered through the narrow gap of my stall’s door, heart stammering out of whack. She and a recruitment consultant, Mariam, were fixing their makeup in front of the mirror after lunch.

“I’m mainly just…puzzled.” Mariam reapplied her eyeliner, leaning over the sink. “I’ve known her for a couple years. She’s always been super sweet. Why would you do a one-eighty and marry the asshole everyone hates, then take a job firing people for a living?”

“That’s the thing. It’s not for a living.” Trisha snapped her setting powder container, rummaging through her makeup bag. “She doesn’t need to make a living anymore. She married a billionaire. And he is obviously infatuated with her, because look at the ring. She’s clearly a sadist. She was just really good at hiding it until now.”

Tears pricked the backs of my eyeballs. All my hard work and reputation had gone down the drain in the past couple of weeks because of my arrangement with Tate.

And still, I also acknowledged this was beyond the pale. These people had no right to speak about me like this. I could marry whomever I wanted without answering to them. I had never tattled to Tate and didn’t plan on it now.

“…felt bad about not inviting her for lunch, but what she did to Jessica was brutal,” Mariam sniffed. Jessica was the last person I had fired. The one I gave a job taking care of Mum.

“Don’t you dare be nice to her,” Trisha cried out, enraged. “Maybe if we ignore her, she’ll eventually go away and pop out babies for Satan and leave us alone.”

Mariam snorted. “He’s awful, but low-key, I would pop a baby or two for him too.”

Trisha huffed, “I bet it’s been going on forever. I wonder if it’s why she took the job in the first place. Did you know she studied business? Now everything makes sense.”

I flung the door of my stall open and waltzed outside, catching their gazes in the mirror.

I smiled casually, refusing to cower. Yes, I was kindhearted, but I was no pushover.

“Hullo!” I greeted, dumping the wrapper of my lunch into the bin and flicking the tap lever to wash my hands. “Marvelous day we’re having, isn’t it? It almost feels like spring.”

They both stared with their mouths agape, pink creeping up their faces under three layers of foundation.

“You know, we Brits don’t take this kind of weather for granted,” I chatted amiably, squirting soap into my palm. “Oh, and please don’t worry yourselves about inviting me to lunch. I’d rather have the company of the bog than poisonous vipers any day of the week. As for Jessica—she is settled in another job and will be starting her master’s program in a few months anyway.As for my marriage—it is indeed none of your business who I shag. But just for the record, my husband gives excellent,superbdick. Highly recommended, if you can afford it.” I winked with a smile.

No shagging to speak of had transpired, but they didn’t have to know that. “Finally, regarding my new role—I’m an employee taking orders from management just like any other person. I don’t make the decisions. If you take issue with my performance, you can always report to human reso—oh.” I snapped my fingers theatrically. “Iamhuman resources.Pity.”

They exchanged horrified looks, giggling in embarrassment.

“Well, I suppose that settles it then.” With another sugary beam, I ripped a paper towel from the machine by the sink and walked my merry way, leaving them to stew in their own nastiness.

My standoff with Trisha and Mariam did nothing to soothe my nerves.

In fact, I decided to postpone firing an intern named Kevin, who was objectively horrid at his job and so far had misfiled hundreds of documents, spilled coffee over expensive machinery, and tweeted meanly about his superiors.

Tate checked on me at least every hour, coming down to the floor I worked on, and despite my literally threatening him at knifepoint not to assign any bodyguards for me, I had spotted plenty of stoic-looking, dinosaur-size men tailingme everywhere. They never got close enough for me to feel claustrophobic, but it still annoyed me.

Admittedly, I was frightened for my safety.

Friday’s encounter made me vomit uncontrollably for the rest of the weekend. Or perhaps it was my kiss with Tate.

No. It wasn’t. That kiss was divine. When his lips were on yours, you forgot all your troubles.

Deciding to cut my workday short (what could Tate possibly do? Fire his own wife?), I showed up at Mum’s treatment facility, armed with guava and cheese pasteles. Her favorite.

I’d found a Cuban bakery where they did them just right, and the lilting singsong Cuban accents of the workers reminded me of her. I desperately hoped they’d jog her memory.