The Imposter Marin Montgomery (rom com books to read TXT) 📖

Stuttering, “I don’t understand.”

“You’re married. At least, you were.” He shakes his head. “Maybe not after this.”

“Who am I . . . what are you talking about?”

“You know I would approach you first about any concern regarding inappropriate behavior. I’m not one to mince words, but this came to Paul’s attention, and we discussed it privately. We’ve kept an eye on the situation, and it’s unfortunate.” Glumly, he stares at me. “Hell, maybe we should have acted right away and not waited. I don’t think any of us wanted to believe it.”

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about.” I wipe my clammy palms on the chair.

“We have photos.”

Mortified, I ask, “From a dating profile?”

He tilts his head. “I beg your pardon?”

“Nothing.”

“Even though your client interaction happened after you left the building, we were still notified. It doesn’t change the impropriety of it.”

“With all due respect, Roger, can you please tell me who this involves?” I’m louder than I intend, and the voice in my head commands my composure. It is, after all, a sign of a seasoned attorney, the ability to remain calm under pressure. The partners don’t do well with feminine wails, from what I’ve seen with the staff.

“You should know who you’re sleeping with,” he spits out. “I shouldn’t have to tell you. Mr. Marcona.”

“Nico?” I gasp. “You think I’m sleeping with Nico Marcona?” There is such a thing as a dumb question, and I have my answer. His mouth is a flat line. “We only went out one time,” I hurriedly add. “For drinks. To discuss his case. Nothing happened.”

Nico’s divorce required a lot of time, and it’s true I didn’t mind his presence. We spent a lot of time discussing his case and how to proceed, and in the beginning, we had clear boundaries. He would come to the office during regular business hours, and someone would always be around, other attorneys or Leslie.

But as we got more comfortable with each other, I did a poor job of keeping my personal and professional lives separate, and I made a rookie mistake: I confided too much in him about my own problems.

The lines became distinctly blurred.

And then the night of my birthday happened.

“Sibley, do me a favor. Don’t look me in the eye and lie to me. You’re better than that. You’ve put your career at risk, and your future with the firm.” He eyes me sadly. “I know temptation runs rampant in life and especially with this type of clientele.” He sighs. “We’ve had eight years together. I don’t want to think even worse of the situation . . .”

“And me,” I finish.

He nods.

“I’m . . .”

He holds up a hand. “I’m going to have Tim come in and pack up your office.”

CHAPTER 7

Sibley

“What?” I shake my head incredulously. “You’re firing me?”

“This is a serious breach of trust, not to mention an ethical dilemma, considering a bar complaint could be filed. Piss off the wrong person, and this could become a serious transgression. It is, don’t get me wrong, but we are going to deal with it internally.” Roger slaps his knee. “We have to take the best course of action for the firm in case this blows up in our face.”

“And in this case, you’re terminating me?”

“Not exactly.”

“What does that mean?”

“We want you to get help.”

“With what?” I slump in my chair. “I’m not a sex addict. What is this even about?”

“Not that type of addiction,” he says uncomfortably. “Unless that’s an issue too.”

“Who wants me to get help?”

“The partners. Paul. John. Myself.” He waves his hand helplessly. “Even Dr. Bradford.”

Wait, Holden’s been involved in this decision? Son of a bitch. I clasp my hands together so he doesn’t see them shaking.

Roger continues. “We do care about you, Sibley. That’s why we want to approach this with some sensitivity.” He clears his throat. “Your husband mentioned you’d had a rough childhood, compounded by mental illness in your mother and the tragic death of your father.”

Wait, Holden mentioned my upbringing to my bosses? When?

I grit my teeth. Roger waits for me to respond, but I’m focused on Holden and the final nail he’s pounded in the coffin of our marriage. All bets are now off when it comes to my husband.

As he waves his hand toward my desk and the offending bottles, there’s an awkward pause. “That’s why we want to see if we can remedy this among ourselves.”

“It’s not what you think . . .”

“Paul used to struggle with alcohol addiction, and he’s been sober now for ten years.”

“I don’t have a drinking problem,” I say quietly. “And I have a meeting in five.”

“You’re missing the point, my dear. My secretary already spoke to Leslie. Your next appointment is no longer your concern; it’s been reassigned.”

“I’m not . . .”

“There’s nothing more to say, Sibley. Do what we ask, and let’s hope we can move forward. We’re suspending you without pay in the hopes you will focus on recovery.”

I think about the savings account I drained. Someone might as well put me out of my misery now. “What, exactly, are you asking me to do?”

“Tim has the packet. It outlines the requirements for us to reinstate you.” He winces. “I’m afraid it’s not going to be easy to earn our trust back, if that’s even what you want.”

“I want to keep my job,” I say shakily. “Keep being the best at what I do.”

With a glance at my ring finger, he says, “If you do decide to pursue this thing with Mr. Marcona, be warned, it will result in your immediate dismissal.”

My jaw drops. I count to ten in my head to save myself from saying something I’ll regret later on.

Roger rises slowly, but with the confidence of a distinguished attorney who’s been practicing for the length of time I’ve been alive. He can’t be rushed, even after having a difficult conversation.

“The plant,” I say. “Can you make sure the plant is watered?”

He gives me an odd stare.

“It releases oxygen during the day instead of at night,” I