Arlene
I stared at the unbelievably arrogant son of a b***h, his lips twitching into an annoyingly smug smirk as he held the jackets by their collars with just his index finger.
“Care to explain what you expected me to do with these cheap jackets?” His voice was calm, yet each word hit hard, an indication of how extremely mocking the jackets were to his status.
He thrust the garment into my hands, his gaze colder, yet extremely calm than I’d ever seen. My fingers trembled slightly as I gripped the fabric, my face flushing with equal parts of disdain and fury.
He wasn’t done. “I expected better from you, Arlene. Judging by how you bragged about getting a hundred of these and how you so proudly shoved that note into my hand.”
“They’re just jackets,” I snapped, refusing to let him have t
