Camille, Claimed (Blue-eyed Monsters Book 3) by Ginger Talbot

Author:Ginger Talbot [Talbot, Ginger]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-07-07T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

Camille

I use some of my cash to buy a cheap new cell phone, and text Landon the number. I tell him I lost my phone. I also sleep in my car in the garage. That way, if Bastien breaks in to slash my tires again, I’ll catch him in the act. I have a can of bear mace clenched in my hands as I curl up on the back seat, but he never shows.

Monday morning, I show up half an hour early to work and kill time by drinking coffee for a while. I can’t risk being late. But when I walk in the door, the receptionist has a grim look on her face and she tells me to go to human resources.

My heart drops to the soles of my feet with a dull thud. What could possibly be wrong now?

I hurry in, thick-headed from lack of sleep. My manager is there, sitting next to the head of the human resources department. The two of them have the look of a firing squad watching the condemned man walk up to the wall.

My mouth dries up, but I force a carefree smile. “About the hotel,” I say. “I can explain.” I’ll lie, tell them it was my fiancé and me, we were just fooling around, there was a misunderstanding.

“What hotel?” My manager is staring at me.

I freeze where I stand. Crud. I just gave him more ammunition. “Why did you call me in here?” I ask him.

He looks at my forehead. “What did you say happened to your head, again?”

I hadn’t. “I tripped and banged it on the wall.” Great. That makes it sound as if I was drunk or high or in a fight.

He frowns at me skeptically. “There’s been another complaint,” he says. “I’m afraid we’re going to have to suspend you immediately, without pay this time. It would be best if you sought employment elsewhere.”

I struggle for breath, but someone’s sucked all the oxygen from the room. “What kind of complaint?”

“Another complaint of a sexual nature. One of your clients says you sexually propositioned him.”

I need this job. “Mr. Robards! I’ve worked here for years!” I cry out in protest. “And the other person who made a claim about me has a history of making false claims and is a diagnosed schizophrenic.”

But he’s staring at me, and I know what he sees. A wild-eyed, frazzled woman with circles under her eyes and a bandaged forehead. A woman who just said something about a hotel but won’t explain herself. A woman who’s started coming in late and taking half a day off, with crazy-sounding explanations.

A woman who can’t be trusted with the mental and emotional wellbeing of others.

“I’m sorry,” he says, shaking his head.

I leave the office without a word, because I don’t want to make things worse by crying or begging or screaming.

I’m filled with rage as I head home. And I’m so tired that I crawl into bed and pass out.

I’m deep in sleep when I’m yanked out of bed and wake up with a crash on the floor, flailing in panic.

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