The Dirty Series 1(49)

Don’t be so sappy, I tell myself. You’ll be back there before you know it.

An hour later, full of Chinese food and wine, I tuck myself into bed and fall asleep almost instantly.

Tomorrow will come early. And I have to be ready to meet it.



I make it a point to be extra charming at my session with Carl, and I don’t fight it when he won’t push me to the max. If I’m going to make it through the next few months, I’m going to need to take everyone’s advice into account—especially Carl’s. One bad decision at the gym can throw me off my game for the entire day, and I can’t afford that.

At my apartment I choose my favorite pieces, dressing like I’m dressing for battle. No makeup team today, but I take my time applying every layer until I’ve almost done it as well as they can.

I sweep my hair back into a no-nonsense chignon and admire myself in the mirror.

I look hot.

The bags under my eyes aren’t nearly as pronounced now that I’ve made a firm decision about what I’m going to do.

The only snag?

Mark doesn’t show up.

For months, he’s been waiting at the curb when I come down, always right on time. But when I get there, there’s no town care waiting.

My stomach turns.

Something must have happened.

Mark would never just bail on me. There must have been an accident of some kind, probably a bad one.

Oh, god.

I don’t call him—what if he’s lying in the hospital somewhere?—and hail a taxi instead, urging the driver to get to the Basiqué offices as soon as I can.

I’m jittery and nervous as the elevator takes me up. I’m a little later than usual, but not so much that Sandra will be here. I just need to find out what happened with Mark. That’s my first priority.

I hurry down the hall and move to unlock the office doors…

…only to find that they’re already unlocked. All the lights are on.

I’m not alone.

I pull open the doors and step inside, the hairs on the back of my neck pricking up.

Sandra isn’t here, but someone else is.

She’s tall and has auburn hair that has been straightened into a shining wave down her back. It’s pinned in place like a work of art.

And she’s sitting at my desk.

“Hello,” she says with a big smile as I step into the office. “How can I help you? Ms. Sarzó isn’t in yet.” She gets up from the desk and comes around to greet me.

“I’m—” I can’t find the words. What the hell? What the hell? “Who are you?”

“My name is Lydia, and I’m Ms. Sarzó’s assistant. Did you have a meeting scheduled with her?”

“No, I—” I sputter, then take a deep breath. “I’m Catherine Schaffer. I’m Ms. Sarzó’s assistant. I’ve been working for her for over a year.”

Lyida blushes, biting her lip. “Oh, I didn’t—I didn’t know that. I got a call yesterday evening about filling the position this morning, and of course I took it. I didn’t think—”

Just then, Sandra sweeps into the room.

“Lyida,” she says. “I have changes to the schedule.” Then she reaches out a hand and beckons for Lydia to come take her purse. The other woman rushes to Sandra and takes her purse, then shoots me an apologetic look.

“Sandra,” I say. “There’s been a mistake.”

“There’s no mistake,” she says in a clipped tone. “Mr. Hunter told me last night that you’re being transferred, effective immediately.”

“Mr. Hunter?”

How could he do this to me?

Lydia follows Sandra into her office, and Sandra takes her place behind her desk and starts rattling off changes. Lydia doesn’t even have a notepad ready.

“Sandra, that wasn’t discussed with me. I never wanted—”

“It’s done, Ms. Schaffer. Now, if you don’t mind, there’s a lot of work to be done.”

Just like that, my work for Basiqué is over.





Chapter Thirty-Five





Jax



My head is fogged and tired when I get back to the penthouse. The visit with my mother was harrowing.

The staff is doing everything they can to keep her comfortable, keep her from harming anyone or herself, but her agitation turns so fucking quickly to rage.

She’s slipping away, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it. All the money in the world can’t buy her mind back, and believe me—I’ve poured as much of my capital into it as I can. Donations to research labs, founding my own research labs, fundraising organizations…I’ve tried all of it, short of becoming a researcher myself, and it’s come to nothing.