Total pages in book: 143
Estimated words: 138844 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 694(@200wpm)___ 555(@250wpm)___ 463(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138844 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 694(@200wpm)___ 555(@250wpm)___ 463(@300wpm)
“Are you sure about that?” Turner asked. “Fred, JJ, and I have been talking, you know…” That would be his closest friend and nephew, both of whom had made partner. “Turner, Gamble, and Leroux—would look good on the building, wouldn’t it?”
Noa scoffed under his breath.
I had half a mind to do the same.
Frankly, it pissed me off. Because over a year ago, I’d told him I wanted to slow down and find a replacement for many of my clients. He’d fed me bullshit to stall any kind of change. Sure, I’d had a new adviser shadowing me—sometimes two—tagging along on meetings and whatnot, but there’d always been “just one more thing.” And I’d obeyed like a damn dog, foolishly thinking I’d get my treat soon.
“I’ll pass, Mr. Turner,” I replied. “I’m handing in my notice today, and you can consider this last year of stringing me along my excuse to call in sick for the next two weeks.” I paused and dropped the last book into the box. “But I’ll look forward to cashing out my stock options. And on another note, how’s your son doing? Did the rehab program work out for him?”
I figured it was a good time to remind him that I knew he’d put his son’s drug rehab on the company card.
I knew a lot of things, actually.
I saved receipts.
One glance at Noa told me it was time to wrap things up. He was fidgeting restlessly and biting his nails, which meant he was mere seconds away from “making his presence known.” I might send him back to the garage while I took a quick trip down to HR.
Turner was hopefully done playing games. I met his thinly veiled smile with a blank expression.
I’d met many colleagues who’d all but feared this man. I’d respected him greatly, but as my father used to say, “Once you’ve witnessed a man’s weaknesses, you know how strong he isn’t.” And Sterling Turner had always enjoyed skirting the rules, sometimes breaking them too, especially when it came to tax laws and bookkeeping.
He couldn’t fuck me over on anything about my final exit from this place.
“I’m disappointed it’s come to this, Lucian,” he said.
“Oh, dude.” Noa picked that moment to speak up, and I sent him a pointed look, but his stare was fixed on Turner. “Just let him go. He doesn’t wanna be here.”
Phew. That could’ve been much worse.
Turner gave my boy a brief frown, and it turned into disdain before he looked back to me. “I’ve heard water-cooler gossip about KC’s boy who can’t shut up.”
Excuse me?
“Bitch, I’m more than KC’s boy,” Noa laughed. I cursed under my breath and watched as he walked closer to Turner. “I’m a drummer, a sound guy, my family’s favorite attack dog, and for you—just for you…” He came to a stop right in front of Turner and peered up at him.
“Noa,” I cautioned. It was halfhearted at best because, frankly, I didn’t care enough. Part of me wanted to hear what he had to say.
Noa didn’t look away from Turner even once. “I’m your pigeon, Mr. Bossman Sir. I’ll shit on everything you love. How’s that? Unless…you respect the fact that Lucian needs to rest and watch his blood pressure. So do me a favor and take a step back. Turn around. And walk away.”
I drew an unsteady breath, and an immense wave of love and gratitude washed over me. All aimed at that sweetheart. My God, I didn’t deserve him—or his support.
I swallowed and saw the moment Turner got ready to respond, likely with a snide little comment that would demean Noa, and that wasn’t happening.
“Don’t say a word to him, Sterling,” I said. “Not a fucking word.”
He flashed me a narrowed-eyed look, unable to hide his brewing anger. Then he let out a derisive huff, straightened up, adjusted his tie, and walked off.
I exhaled.
I estimated we had a few minutes before security got here, but I didn’t need that much. I was sending Noa down to KC with my box of belongings, and on my way to HR, I’d call Cheryl so she could pack up my things at the other office. Then I was done. Noa could help me pick out a thank-you gift for Cheryl. She’d been with me the past decade, and if I didn’t know she was already starting a new job in a few months with an adviser I actually respected, I might’ve—
“Was that too much, Uncle Lucian?” I heard Noa ask, hesitation in his voice.
I didn’t like that one bit. “No.” I rounded the desk and walked over to him, and I cupped his face in my hands. “You said everything that social norms prevent me from saying. You said it in a much funnier way too.” I dipped down and kissed him, and he gave me his signature grin, visibly relieved. “I love you. I love you so, so much.”