“Talking to yourself now?” Conrad asks with a friendly smile. My expression must say it all. The smile drops from his face, and he’s suddenly serious. “Sawyer, what’s wrong?”
“N-Nothing.” I try for a reassuring smile, and I fail miserably.
“What’s going on?” Marshall asks, stepping up to my desk.
“She’s upset.”
“What’s up, Sawyer?” Marshall asks.
Great. This is what I don’t need. I don’t need Conrad and Marshall defending me and making things worse. I don’t know what’s going on in his office, or what he’s saying, and even though I deserve whatever it is, I still hate it. “Royce is pissed,” I whisper, like cussing at work is going to get me fired. It’s not my mouth that’s going to do it but my poor decisions. I immediately clamp my hand over my mouth. Not just because I cussed at the office, but because I didn’t want to tell them.
“Fuck that.” Conrad storms off toward Royce’s office. He doesn’t knock. He just turns the handle and walks on in.
“Come on.” Marshall holds his hand out for me.
“W-What? Where are we going?”
“In there.” He motions toward Royce’s office with his head.
“No. Nope.” I shake my head vigorously. “I’m not going in there.”
“Yes, you are.” Walking around my desk, he grabs my hand and gives a gentle tug to get me to climb to my feet.
“Marshall, this isn’t a good idea. He’s pissed. He heard me telling Gail and said he was going to make a rule about employees and bosses socializing.” That’s not exactly what he said, but I read between the lines. He’s going to make sure that it never happens again.
“He’s being a grumpy dick,” he says, pulling me from behind my desk. My heels click against the tile floor, and the closer we get to Royce’s office, the more nervous I become. My knees are literally shaking. I hate confrontation. That’s why I put up with Phil’s harassment for so long.
“Come on, man, you’re being a dick,” Conrad says as we enter the room.
“Told you,” Marshall says, not bothering to keep his voice down.
Everyone stops talking and turns to look at us. I can feel the stare of everyone in the room, but my eyes are locked on Royce. “Mr. Riggins,” I start, and Marshall snorts from his place beside me. I elbow him and try again. “Mr. Riggins—” I start, and this time it’s Royce who stops me. Not his words, but his glare as he takes in my hand that’s still clasped in Marshall’s. I try to pull away, but his hold is firm. When I look up, Marshall is grinning from ear to ear.
“Out. Everyone but Sawyer leaves the room. Now!”
“Not gonna happen,” Conrad says, crossing his arms over his chest. “We’re not going to let you badger her when she did nothing wrong.”
“I thought we already talked about this?” Marshall asks.
Again, I try to pull my hand free, but he’s not budging. “It’s okay,” I assure them.
“Come on, let’s give them a moment to talk.” Gail links her arm through Conrad’s. “Sawyer, I’ll be right outside when you’re done.” She’s training me, so where else would she be? That’s my first thought, but then I register that she just winked at me. She’s telling me that she’s on my side and that there’s nothing to worry about. At least I hope that’s what it means.
“You good?” Marshall asks me.
“Yes.” I try to give him a reassuring smile. He nods, gives my hand a gentle squeeze before finally releasing me and following the others out the door. The audible click of the door closing has me reaching for the back of the chair for support. I thought my knees were weak before, and it’s nothing compared to this—standing before him on my own. His gaze is intense as he watches me.
“Sit.”
I want to object, but my knocking knees tell me I should do as he says. Slowly, I step around the chair and take a seat. Carefully, I cross my legs, tilted to the side, mindful not to give him a show, and fold my hands together, placing them in my lap. Finally, I look up, meeting his gaze.
“Sawyer.” Royce’s deep voice washes over me. His brown eyes are intense as they watch me. The same eyes that brought me through the storm of my panic attack now regard me much differently.
“Mr. Riggins.”
He sighs. “Mr. Riggins is my father. Just Royce.”
I nod. “Royce.”
“Is there something going on with you and my brother?”
“No, sir.” I’m quick to shut that line of thinking down.
“Any of them?” He raises his eyebrows.
“No, sir.” I look him in the eye and will him to believe me. I don’t want to lose this job.
“You and Marshall looked awful cozy.” There is a steel harshness to his voice.
What on earth is he talking about? “I’m sorry? I don’t know what you mean by that?”