Claim Me(117)

It is, however, all mine.

I am organizing my desk when Bruce enters. “Welcome to your second day. All settled in?”

“All I need now is access to the network and I’m good to go.” I glance at my phone to check the time. “Carla said she’d have me in the system by the end of the hour, so I guess I’ll be official soon.”

Bruce nods, then gives me the rundown of what I’ll find on my calendar today, which basically boils down to internal meetings and getting familiar with the various company products. By the end of the day, I’ll have met my team and have a handle on the products I’m managing. I’ve got a lot to learn—both product specs and staff names—but on the whole, I’m pleased with the plan for the day.

Bruce stands. “I know I promised you a first-day lunch, but it turns out I have to meet with my attorney. Would you mind if we postpone?”

“Don’t worry about it. To be honest, I’m pumped to get caught up with all this reading.”

He looks relieved, and I flash my best Cooperative Employee smile. A moment later, his expression shifts, and I fear that my smile has missed the mark. But his thoughts have moved past work. “I feel like I should apologize again for Saturday night.”

“No,” I say, because I really don’t want to go there again. “It’s not necessary. Truly.”

He peers at me, then nods slowly. “Well, I hope that’s not why you and Damien cut out early.”

I can’t help the heat that rises to my cheeks. “It’s not. And please tell Giselle that it’s okay. I promise I’m not upset.”

His expression hardens. “If I see her, I’ll tell her,” he says, and I’m left wondering how to shift the conversation, because I have clearly stepped into something unpleasant. As it turns out, though, it is Bruce who changes the topic. He tosses a copy of Tech World Today on my desk. “Have you seen this week’s issue?”

I haven’t, but I immediately recognize the image on the cover of the tabloid-style newspaper. It’s the logo of an Israeli company watermarked over a screenshot from some cutting-edge 3-D imaging software. I scan the article and then look up at Bruce. “This has been in the works for a while. Looks like they got it out of beta testing earlier than they anticipated.”

“I heard through the grapevine that you were working on something similar at C-Squared,” he says, referring to Carl’s company.

“I was,” I say, then decide to take the plunge and tell him the truth about what happened. It pisses me off, but it’s not as if I’m the one who did anything wrong. “I was on the team that pitched the C-Squared product to Damien.”

“Is that how you two met?”

“No,” I say. “We actually met years ago in Texas. We reconnected at one of Evelyn’s parties.” I don’t mention that Carl had sent me into the party with the specific goal of attracting the attention of Damien Stark. That had been my first clue that Carl was an *. And many more clues followed in quick succession. “At any rate, the pitch went great, but Damien declined to invest because he knew about this Israeli product, though he didn’t say his reason at the time. By then, he and I had gone out.” Once again, my cheeks heat, because “gone out” doesn’t even begin to describe the things I had done with Damien.

Bruce, thankfully, doesn’t appear to notice my blush. “And Carl blamed you.”

“And fired me,” I say with a thin smile. “He’s not high up on my favorite people list.”