“Whomp. Whomp. Whomp. The domestic staff has arrived. Maids, servers, a chef. The sound of their arrival makes me giddy. This is really happening. It has actually come together. Turtle Tear is a fully functioning luxury resort, and I’ve successfully completed my first project manager job. The click-clack of heels breaks my revelry. “Congratulations. You did it.” Joan’s tone tells me she was skeptical of my ability, but I knew that all along. She stops beside me on the patio, fiddles with her blo...nde hair twisted up in back and crosses her arms. As usual, she’s wearing her power-hungry, trademark red. Today it’s a pencil skirt paired with matching platform heels and a filmy, white, sleeveless blouse. “Thanks.” I don’t let on that I caught a hint of her doubt. “Going to usher them in?” Maybe she’ll remember she’s in a hurry and leave. She arches a brow and studies her manicured nails. “That’s Riley’s job now, remember?” Right. She no longer works as your assistant because of me, giving her yet another reason to hate me.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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