“Sit down, April.”
I stood frozen in the doorway, my eyes locked on the bitch-extraordinaire Ashley Wainwright. Seeing the head of HR huddling next to your boss was never good. “What’s this about?”
Alex grunted and tossed a newspaper across the desk. “Care to explain why our new advertising vice president is grinding herself against some college tramp in a sleazy-ass bar? “
Steph – my closet partner and inseparable friend since our freshman year—had her hands firmly planted on my spandex encased butt, pressing me tight against her as we lost ourselves in the thumping beat. I’d pulled back from her searing kiss only a split second before the picture was taken. Our lips were still almost touching. Oh joy.
“She’s a friend,” I growled, shooting him a scathing glare filled with pure hatred. “And we were just blowing off some steam to celebrate my promotion. Not that it’s any of your damned business.”
He actually laughed at me. “That’s where you’re wrong. If you’d have bothered to read your contract, you couldn’t have missed the section on behavior clauses. This most definitely doesn’t represent Aspire in a positive light.”
It was all I could do to keep from leaping across the table and tearing his throat out. “Are you seriously firing your most brilliant ad executive because I’m gay? Jesus, I’ve landed over seventy percent of our clients. The Foster and Riley account alone brought in over two million last year. Besides, I’m pretty sure that’s a protected class.” By the time I was through with them, I’d be a full partner and they’d be kicking his fat ass to the curb.
“No one is firing you,” he said with a sneer. “You’re going to resign, leave behind all of your clients, and sign a non-compete agreement to never work in this industry again.”
Now it was my turn to laugh. This was totally ridiculous. “And why in the hell would I do that?”
I’d barely gotten the words out when someone grabbed my chin from behind, wrenched my head back and placed a large knife against my throat. “Because if you don’t we’ll kill you.”