Page 57 of Bastard-in-Chief
Panic pushes my confusion aside. “Wait!” Kate freezes, staring at me around the corner of her monitor. “Um. I don’t need it anymore. You can cancel the application.”
“For thirty-thousand dollars?” Her face softening, Kate keeps talking while my mind races. “I don’t want to overstep, Sophie, but surely you could use the help? You’ve been paying into the fund since you started here years ago. Just because you’re leaving doesn’t mean you don’t have the right to utilize it now that you need it. This is exactly what it’s for.”
“I just feel guilty for taking it when I’m not going to be an employee here any longer. Besides, I wasn’t the one who submitted it. And thirty-thousand dollars is way too much. I thought the limit was ten?” My confusion comes roaring back. Did Theo do this behind my back? Find a way to sneak me the money when he knew I wouldn’t take it directly from him?
“Hmmm, you’re right. Hang on.” Kate is silent, reading the notes on her screen. “It looks like the original application was for fifteen-thousand, which is the normal limit,” Kate adds, looking up. “But a second application was made within the system to double the amount.”
“But…you can’t do that?” I don’t understand what’s happening. I’d started filling out the application under Lauren’s watchful eye at the hospital the moment we found out that Jake didn’t have his health insurance, or the job that went with it, anymore. But I never completed it, too embarrassed for Theo to know how in need of it I was.
Kate cuts me off before I can say any more. “Enough of that. You’ve more than earned the right to that assistance and it was all approved by Mr. Sutton himself. Whether it’s against the rules or not, he made the decision to approve all thirty-thousand, no strings attached. Someone obviously knows you well enough to know not only that you needed it, but that you deserved a helping hand. Maybe you should find that person and thank them. Besides,” she steam-rolls my objection, “it’s already done. We’re just waiting on the check to be signed.”
I swallow my argument. I can’t tell her that the man who signs the check is the exact reason I’m worried.
Twenty-four
Theo
I should have stayed in California. Then I wouldn’t be tempted to march downstairs and haul Sophie up to my office to explain to me what the hell she’s playing at.
The email from HR stares back at me from my monitor, my approval to release the relief funds on her final check the only reason I was notified of her resignation. Under normal circumstances, I wouldn’t have known until I walked in one day to be greeted by a new face.
Pushing back from my desk, I pace the length of my office. Anger that she’s leaving, and didn’t even have the decency to tell me first, competes with the black hole opening in my chest. The one that reminds me over and over that I’m not going to see her face every morning when I walk in, that I won’t see her smile every evening when I leave.
I didn’t know how much I needed it until now.
“Sir?” Mercedes’ question stops me in my tracks, hands buried in my hair, a growl dying in my throat at the sight of her pitying expression. “Mr. Edwards is here.” When I don’t respond she steps into my space, closing the door behind her. “Sir? Are you okay?”
“Does it look like I’m okay?” I snap.
Mercedes eyes me like one of her unruly grandkids. Fuck. I should apologize, but she speaks before I can say anything. “I assume this has something to do with the email from HR?”
At my nod, her face softens. “I can take care of it for you while you meet with Mr. Edwards.”
“No. Thank you.” I bite out the words. “I’ll take care of it after he leaves. I just…” I can’t hold onto the anger any longer, the heat dissipating from my chest with a defeated sigh as sadness takes its place. “Send him in.”
Mercedes gives me another moment to pull my game face on. I tuck my hurt feelings aside and pull on the stern facade of Theodore just in time. The moment Mercedes opens the door, Morgan pushes past her to step into my office.
“How was California? I see you managed to avoid the paps.” Unbuttoning his jacket, Morgan doesn’t wait for me before lounging in one of the chairs at my desk.
I slide into my own leather chair, the open window on my screen reminding me of Sophie’s betrayal. I minimize it before answering Morgan, reminding myself who I’m dealing with and not to let Sophie’s name pass my lips. “Why would I need to avoid the paparazzi? I was at my sister’s house the whole time.”
“I assumed some up-and-coming starlet was in need of your attention when you went down there so suddenly.” He chuckles at his own joke and I suppress my shudder. Morgan Edwards is my mentor in a lot of things, but his attitude about women is not one of them.
“The only up-and-coming starlet I saw was my niece, Clara. She has a winning smile, but isn't very good at learning her lines yet.”
“Hmph. Never mind that. What new and exciting project do you have for me?”
I spend the next hour outlining the groundwork we’d laid out on the new project, the embedded video editing software to go with the medical record manager I started developing. Once we get past the comparison to social media apps, Morgan is all business, pointing out issues and pitfalls as we go. We keep talking until Mercedes shoos us out of the building to get lunch.
“I see you kept the pretty one.” Morgan points out as we pass Tina alone at the front desk.
“What do you mean, the pretty one?” The growl in my voice should be a warning, but Morgan doesn’t hear it.
“Oh, don’t give me that. I know perfectly well you’d never dip your pen in the company ink—I taught you better than that—but there’s no harm in looking. And appreciating.” His chuckle grates against every nerve in my body. If only he knew exactly how deep I dipped my…pen. The image of Sophie spread out in my bed, her blond locks cascading over the pillow, her sunshine smile lighting up my home, her giggle vibrating against my soul, flashes in my mind. I can hardly breathe from the need to hold her again.
“Although I might make an exception for that content director of yours, what’s her name? Masterson? She looks like she knows the art of a well-placed—”
“Morgan, that’s enough.” My warning is interrupted by a series of texts from the dev team on the new project. “I have to go put out some fires. I’ll have Mercedes loop you in on the project.” I try not to let my relief show at avoiding further conversation as I head back into the building.