“Nah.” Emmett reaches over and presses the save icon for the Excel file. It obediently responds—without giving him the attitude it gave me last night. “The one you gave me on Friday was great.”
What…?
“This one is purely for your own good.”
“My own good?” Please tell me I misheard.
“Yeah. It’s good to redo models under various different scenarios. Helps you see the bigger picture. It’s an excellent training exercise, and fun to do.”
An excellent training exercise? Fun to do?
He had me stay past midnight on a Friday for a training exercise?
He’s beaming at me like he’s proud.
Oh, yes, he did. And he’s pleased.
I take back what I said about him hot enough to work up my libido. I want to murder this son of a bitch.
“You look unhappy,” Emmett says, the smile still on his I-don’t-have-the-faintest-clue-why-that’s-the-case face.
“Do you think that this exercise could maybe have waited until Monday?” I say in my calmest, deadliest voice, while fantasizing about wrapping my hands around his neck and squeezing. Emmett has a strong-looking neck, but I’ll bet that right at the moment I could pop his head off it like a grape.
He seems oblivious to my mood. “No, it couldn’t have. You’ve got a meeting to attend on Monday, and you’re leading due diligence for the Drone project.”
“So… The training had to happen on Friday. Right as I was about to leave.”
He nods, wearing an expression that says he can’t believe he needs to answer such an elementary question. “That’s what I decided. Are you upset because you had to break up with your boyfriend?”
Is that what Emmett thinks? He’s supposed to feel like a piece of shit for making me stay late to do something that wasn’t essential or urgent! “No!”
But honestly, maybe a little, because breaking up is stressful, even though it was the right thing to do. With Rick’s attitude the way it is, a breakup was inevitable. The fact that it happened last night actually saved me some time and effort. I don’t want to invest in a relationship that’s doomed to fail because my boyfriend doesn’t respect what makes me me.
“Well, then. I don’t see what the problem is.” Emmett’s tone says, Do you?
“The problem is the fact that the work wasn’t needed for the meeting on Monday.”
“But it’s for your personal development.”
I’m not going to win this argument. Besides, I only have seven weeks and six days left to go at GrantEm. Do I want to waste my time and energy arguing? “Fine,” I say grudgingly.
He shoots me an expectant smile.
I stare back at him. I already handed over the exhibits and references. And the Excel model, which he seems satisfied with. What am I missing?
Maybe he wants to talk about sex now.
Nope. Not going there first.
“Aren’t you going to thank me?” he says.
“Thank you?” It comes out as a whisper. No jumping to conclusions, since who knows what’s going through that evil mind of his. I maintain a strained control over myself. “For what, exactly, would I be thanking you?”
He spreads his hands. “For the training! Unlike Wharton, I’m paying you to learn.”
“Giving me on-the-job training is part of your responsibility as my boss.” So don’t even think about wrangling undeserved “thank you” out of me. I gather my things. “Do you need anything else?” I ask in my coldest and most professional tone. “Any more training on modeling and valuation, perhaps?”
He props his arm on the back of the couch and rests his temple on the tip of his index finger. A smug smile on his too-fucking-handsome face. “No, I don’t believe so.”