Leila has him on speaker as we sit in the back of a Dunlow International limousine. “When you get back, I want to talk to Corinne in my office,” he says.
Oh, s**t. Peyton doesn’t ask anyone into his office unless he’s firing them.
Leila and I share a glance. There’s worry in her eyes that shouldn’t be there, considering what we accomplished today.
“Is everything okay?” Her voice cracks, but she laces her fingers with mine.
The answer should be yes. It should be loud and excited. Exuberant, even. I just made him millions of dollars. Firing me would be so, so ugly.
“I just want to talk to her,” comes his answer. “It’s nothing you need to worry about.”
No. He’s firing me. She knows it, I know it, and now I’m one pant away from hyperventilating. Peyton is eccentric and has no sense of lo
