Two Strikes Read Online Free PDF Page B

phone.”
    “Oh my God,” she whispered, and wished the floor would open up and swallow her. She was already at three strikes with the afternoon’s shenanigans, and fraternization with guests was an absolute no-no. It didn’t matter that she and Max had known each other since they were fourteen. They weren’t allowed a relationship of any sort at The Den.
    She shot Max that ball-withering glare again.
    He rolled his eyes at her and made the short walk down the hall.
    “It would seem Ms. Burke has a slight performance issue we need to work out,” Mr. Beaudelaire said.
    Rich people put such a special ring on their bullshit.
    Giselle turned to face him. “I want to pay for the damages. Look, there’s more I need to tell you. Can we go into your office? Where it’s private?”
    “Of course. You should know, however, that very little goes on here that Mr. Fletcher doesn’t know about. He conducts many of our more sensitive background checks.”
    Giselle gaped, and faced her sometimes-lover again. “You never told me that.”
    He shrugged. “Cloak-and-dagger shit, like you always say. Don’t act like you don’t have secrets.”
    “Nothing like that.”
    “Bullshit.”
    She growled, loosened the fist she’d balled her hands into, and turned yet again to the man in charge. “Maybe I should just write you a resignation letter telling you everything I did.” She cringed. “What I remember of it, anyway.”
    “What do you mean what you remember of it ?” Mr. Beaudelaire gestured to his office door.
    Giselle walked through it and took one of the seats in front his fine wood desk. At the sound of the door closing, she looked up only to see Max had followed Mr. Beaudelaire in.
    Go the fuck away.
    He perched on the arm of the neighboring chair.
    She groaned softly.
    Mr. Beaudelaire sank into his leather chair and tamped some papers into a neat pile. “Why don’t you start at the beginning, Ms. Burke?”
    Oh, God.
    She rolled her gaze up the ceiling and chewed the inside of her lip. The beginning. When was that?
    After a moment, she shrugged. Didn’t matter. “I’m going to make a long story as short as possible. Since Max is here I can’t lie and say he doesn’t have anything to do with it, because he does. I didn’t want to be here for another Den event if Max would be attending.”
    “And why is that?”
    “Yeah, why is that, G?” Max put his elbow on his knee and propped his chin atop his fist.
    Asshole .
    Her teeth grated. “Max and I have a really complicated relationship.”
    “It’s hardly a relationship,” Max said. “You keep reminding me of just how much it isn’t a relationship. What’d you call it?” He tapped his chin pensively. “Friends with benefits? Fuck buddies?”
    “Shut up. I’m gonna get fired, and I want to go out with at least a little bit of dignity.” And she would have liked to do it without divulging her personal business to the King of Kink Henri Beaudelaire himself.
    Max put his hands up. “Go on, then.”
    She wanted to grab him by the neck and shake him, but somehow resisted.
    She cleared her throat. “I requested the time off so I wouldn’t be here for Winterball, but the request was rejected.”
    “Who rejected the request?”
    “Ms. Gibson. She said it’s her policy not to put new hires on the floor during Den events and we would have been short-staffed in my department.”
    “Not just her policy, but mine. You didn’t believe that reason had merit?”
    Way to put your foot in it . She swallowed again. Her throat was even tighter now that she’d started laying it all out. An odd feeling for a woman who’d never been afraid of straight talk. “Yes, I don’t question the merit behind the rule, but I think the reason I requested off had merit, too.”
    “Explain.”
    That was the hard part. Sighing, she ran her gloved hand over her ponytail and stared at the large, framed photograph behind Mr. Beaudelaire. It was him, many years younger than his