The Lie, Natalie Wrye [ebook reader play store txt] 📗

thought of putting my firing practice into action is the thought of taking money for doing nothing.

I knew if something sounded too good to be true, it probably was. And I wasn’t built that way…

A loan I could do.

With a loan, there was interest accruing. And agreements. And payment plans.

You earned that money.

But taking cash—owing someone a favor—came with its own dangers.

Dangers that make my heart leap into my throat and stay there.

“I can’t, Soph,” I shake my head at her. “I wish it were that easy. But I just can’t. I—”

“No worries,” my martini-in-arms partner stops me with a hand. “It was just a suggestion.”

Just a suggestion.

There it is again. My life seemed full of them.

“And, in the meantime,” Sophia brushes a sheet of long dark hair over her shoulder, “maybe you could use a man-shaped ‘dealing-with-bullshit’ kit. I know mine (AKA Noah) has always done the trick for me…”

“‘Man-shaped-bullshit-kit’? Me? Have you met me?”

“Have you?” She presses, eyeing me over the olives in her martini. “You’ve been going at it so hard with running the business and managing it lately. That you can afford to let loose a little. You can afford to go for better. You can afford to want. freaking. more, Nancy. More than you let yourself have. A little more won’t kill you, though, I know you think it will.”

Her words resonate, ringing something inside me.

But Sophia keeps talking, not realizing the note she’s struck somewhere in my mind as she keeps babbling something about men.

Something I pick up seconds later.

“And besides…” she declares, as my mind checks back into the convo, “you are a freaking hottie. So, go out and mingle at the bar tonight. Meet someone new. Go get laid. It’ll take your mind off this meeting and maybe even get your head back on straight. A little ‘head’ can get you ahead…as long as it’s by the right man.”

She rolls her eyes as I open my mouth, her voice sharp. “—and, by the way, I am not talking about that stuffed shirt. Eric Whats-His-Name-Or-Whatever. He’s so lame. No. No, I’m talking about getting laid by someone else. Someone new. Someone who will give you a full-on, mind-blowing, pussy-pounding, nasty, sweat-soaked kind of fucking. You clearly need that type of sex in your life.”

I almost drain my glass, my lips are suddenly so greedy. Heart pounding beneath my blouse, I gape, the liquor settling in fast.

I cough. “Soph, Jesus Christ. Who do you think I am? Do you know what I did on my last wild night?”

“Your taxes?”

“I ordered in sushi and watched old black-and-white movies with Domino until 3AM. That’s my idea of a wild night.”

“Ugh. Not Domino. Any creature but Domino. That cat is worse company than stale loaf-of-bread, Eric.”

“Hey.” I stop her, the martini giving me more mouth than I’ve had all day. I fix my askew collar, glaring. “Eric is a great manager. He’s helped a lot around here. He’s nice.. Smart. Stable. He drives an eco-friendly car, for crying out loud. And he is absolutely nothing like—”

“Andrew?”

I stop. A few tense seconds pass between Soph and me, and I rise to my feet, shaking imaginary dust off my skirt.

Shaking off the memory of what happened with Andrew just a week ago. A memory I won’t discuss.

“That’s an obscene suggestion to make, Soph. Andrew is a friend…” She tilts her head and I backtrack. “Okay, so he’s something ‘friend-like.’ And even if we weren’t associates or whatever, it would be completely wrong to talk about him that way. He’s my bartender.” I reach for the papers on my desk. “And my employee.” I snatch another few. “And I’m his boss, so that makes this conversation absolutely ridic—”

“—Oh, come on, Nancy. I’m Andrew’s friend. And I used to be his neighbor. Your dynamic with him is nothing like ours. You two are as compatible as…as…fire and ice. And you’re not just his boss. You’re not his friend, either. Actually…” she ponders, putting one finger to her chin, her smile smug, “I don’t think there’s an actual definition for what the two of you are.”

The words slice hard, digging deep into my skin. My urge to refute them is just as hard, as it is every time we talk about Andrew, but on a day like today, I’m too damn tired.

My blouse feels stifling. And my pencil skirt might just be a smidge too tight.

But more importantly than my uncomfortable wardrobe choices, I’ve got about two minutes and forty seconds to get out of my office, prep and salvage the rest of the afternoon before the evening fundraiser crowd comes in full force.

Clutching my papers to my chest, I round the desk, marching towards my closed door. I don’t turn to Sophia, scared I’ll turn into stone if I do.

“Soph, I’m so not talking about this right now.”

“Well, if not now,” she shouts back at me, “then when?”

“Hmm, never sounds like a great option.”

I storm out of the door, closing it as softly behind me as I can, my chest heaving.

It’s just all this stress.

Gotta be.

Because as far as dating anyone like Andrew Fletcher, you could count me out.

And speaking of counting…that’s exactly what I might have to do.

Count Andrew Fletcher out.

Fire my first employee…

Ever.

I might not be able to take Noah’s money. But I could do this.

I have to. Andrew lied about being at the bar, and he’s already late for tonight’s shift.

A night that could help make or break the business with the way things are going.

Feet moving fast, I whip out my phone and start to text him immediately, my hands shaking with every step I take.

Chapter 3

ANDREW

Technically, I’m supposed to be on shift. But I can’t get Frank’s words about my grandmother’s estate out of my mind…or the new status, the new title—and the new life—that would come with it.

I can see it all now, the changes that come with wealth—the birth of a new me happening before my eyes. I can see