“Ms. Solis, I’m busy. If you’d like to discuss something, request an appointment.”

“Claire,” Devon says, crossing his arms. “You can’t just waltz into the CEO’s office to make a scene.”

“Why?” I ask Miller, my voice booms in his office. “You weren’t going to make a decision until June. Why did you give it to him?”

I stare at him, trying to find my Miller. There’s no evidence that the guy even existed. All I see is the same cold man I’ve worked for the past three years.

“You owe me an explanation,” I say.

“Devon leave,” he orders, his eyes focus on me as he stands up and holds the door to his friend.

“We have a presentation at noon,” Devon protests.

“Leave,” Miller repeats.

Once Devon is out, Miller closes the door and locks it.

He’s right in front of me, and though I’m fuming, I also want to kiss him. Ask Miller, the guy who I spent the weekend with, to hold me and make everything better because everything I’ve worked for is disappearing.

In an ideal world, that’d be my move. Right now, I focus on the asshole who owns this company. The man who doesn’t care about anyone else but himself.

“Did all my hard work disappear when I let you fuck me?”

Twenty-One

Miller

I flinch at her words.

“It’s business,” I say, keeping my distance because all I want to do is take her into my arms and erase the anger and sadness she’s carrying around.

God, I fucking missed her so much. Last weekend was great and unforgettable. Also, a mistake. I can’t mix business with pleasure.

“You gave him the promotion. The most useless person on Evan’s team, that’s who got the position.” She laughs and shakes her head. “You had lost the little respect I had for you. The man doesn’t know shit. In fact, everything he comes up with is either stolen from someone else, or he copied from the competition.”

“Seriously, Claire, now you’re being petty,” I accuse her.

“I deserve that promotion—not him,” she says, her voice echoing inside my office. “For the past six months, I’ve been landing you every single account you requested.”

She pokes me in the chest. “Three years of non-stop twelve to thirteen-hour days for what?”

“The Stewart account was at play and you dropped the ball,” I say.

“Excuse me, being on vacation isn’t dropping the ball. And if that was the case, you could’ve woken me up and brought me with you. I uploaded everything.”

“You didn’t send shit,” I argue.

“I did and I can prove it,” she takes a step closer to me. “That asshole stole it from me.”

“Stop being unreasonable, Claire. You’re important to the company.”