I stared at my phone as the screen faded back to black.
For three seconds, I thought about calling Madison back. Then I remembered her smirk from the kitchen island, the way she had watched me scrub and sweat like I was furniture that had somehow learned to breathe. Kitchen& Dining
Instead, I started my car.
The man I had called was Victor Hale.
He was not a gangster, a police officer, or some mysterious former lover. He was my boss.
More specifically, he was the regional director of Hartwell Freight Systems, the company my mother had spent two years name-dropping whenever she wanted to impress her church friends.
“My husband knows people in logistics,” she would say. “Our Emily does a little computer work for one of those companies.”
A little computer work.
What my parents did not know was that my “little computer work” meant managing contracts worth millions, supervising thirty-seven employees across four states, and recently negotiating the shipping account for a medical supply company my father’s construction firm desperately wanted as a client.
They also did not know that Madison’s party had been scheduled for the same weekend I was supposed to host Victor and two senior executives for a private dinner. I had canceled that dinner because my mother guilted me into helping.
