22
The next day, Charlotte appeared at work along with everyone else, dressed in a fine-cut black dress and high heels, her hair falling in bright curls down her back, and her skin almost glowing from nearly twelve hours of intercourse and cuddling with Quentin.
Randy was already seated at his desk, his neck arched as his eyes ate up the social media on his phone. Charlotte sat primly beside him, her eyes dancing with light. She cleared her throat.
Turning swiftly, Randy gazed at her, shocked. “s**t, girl. What are you doing here?” he whispered, his voice harsh. He stabbed his phone into his back pocket, looking anxious. “You’re fired.”
“I’m not,” Charlotte said, thrusting her right shoulder forward. “I got the email from Maggie last night. They had a change of heart.”
“Wow,” Randy br
