Stuck On My Stepbrother Read Online Free Page B

find out our company secrets, there’ll be hell to pay. D’ye hear?’ She took a step closer to me, and blew smoke in my face.
    I had no choice but to nod, and to try telling myself not to worry …

CHAPTER SEVEN
Retail Therapy

    When I got back to my desk, Jen still wasn’t there.  
    ‘You alright?’ Patrick asked. ‘Looks like that hangover’s kicking in now. Here you go.’ He handed me an Americano. ‘I couldn’t wait half an hour. Three sugars. Just like I promised. That’ll sort you out.’
    I took the coffee appreciatively and crumpled into my desk chair, resting my head on the desk.  
    ‘So,’ Patrick said, much perkier, sipping his coffee. ‘What was that about?’
    I lifted my head up off the desk. A post-it-note I’d written yesterday, reminding me to tidy my desk today, was now stuck to my forehead. ‘I have to go to Global Media,’ I said, peeling off the note, feeling the sticky residue smeared across my forehead. ‘They want to see me tomorrow.’
    ‘Shit!’ said Patrick, almost spitting out his coffee. ‘Global? You serious? What for?’
    ‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘Christina didn’t know either. But she seems pretty pissed at me. She thinks I was telling them “company secrets” last night. That I’m some kind of mole.’
    Patrick laughed. ‘Jesus, Rose. Three weeks here, and look at all the controversy you’re causing.’ He must have seen me looking hurt at that point, because his voice softened. ‘Look. I was with you the whole time last night. I know you didn’t say anything you shouldn’t have done. Don’t worry about it. Christina will be fine. You’re one of the good ones, Rose. Never forget that.’
    I smiled and drank some of my coffee. It was like drinking honey. Three sugars, my ass! There must’ve been at least ten in there. ‘That’s so sweet, Patrick,’ I said, and saw a blush spread across his cheeks. He obviously thought I was referring to him as sweet, and not the coffee. I found myself blushing too, and didn’t try to correct myself.
    For the next couple of hours, the sugary coffee woke me up enough to get on with a bit of work. I finished up an ad I’d started working on yesterday afternoon, and even managed to make a couple of calls to clients, put some feelers out, generate a bit more business to follow-up on later in the week. Patrick got on with his work too, and Jen still remained absent. I didn’t discuss it with Patrick, but I decided she must have pulled a sickie, not because of a hangover – as I was sure her liver had taken worse abuse than that, and she’d still come to work the next day – but, I thought hopefully, maybe she was embarrassed. Maybe she felt terrible about her cruel display last night, and was building up the courage to apologize. And I, of course, would graciously accept. That was my daydream, anyway. I’ve probably already told you that I’m a bit of a daydreamer.
    When the clock hit twelve I didn’t waste any time in hurrying out of the office and into the cool air outside. I’d been planning on getting myself a big lunch, to make sure I soaked up any last remaining alcohol fumes inside me, and also to try and replace some of that weight I’d lost through the recent nerves and anxiety of finishing my Degree and starting my first proper job. But once I was out in the open, enjoying the refreshing breeze, I found myself heading towards the shopping mall instead of the pizza place.
    It wasn’t a big mall. It was the kind you get in suburbs all over the world, with too many indoor plants, scuffed sneaker marks on the floor, and the smell of disinfectant and hot dogs wherever you go. You know the type. I passed a couple of candy stores, a mother and baby store, and then a place selling cheap garden furniture, and headed straight for Kohl’s. I couldn’t afford anything fancy; I’d already got myself a dress for the awards last night. I’d have to go without all other luxuries until payday. But something told