Ari snorts as I continue.
“Make sure you call into the meeting on time, Francesca. Don’t forget to check in with me about your progress on the patient follow-ups, Francesca. Let me know what Blue Cross says about those billing issues last week. We don’t want to make that mistake again, Francesca.”
“Please, God, tell me he doesn’t actually sound that nasally.”
I huff a laugh. “No. He has a normal voice, but he does sound like a pompous ass most of the time.”
“Hold on. What does Doctor Devil look like? Is he old with a giant wart on his nose? Because I’m envisioning a wart.”
“Unfortunately, no. He’s decent-looking?—”
Ari is already typing something on her phone, and more dread fills me as her eyes go wide.
“Holy fuck, Frankie! You never told me Doctor Devil is a hottie!” she squeals, shoving her phone in my face.
The picture she’s holding up is of Dr. Dante Kincaid—one of the most renowned psychiatrists in the world. He runs his own practice in Santa Barbara out of his large, Victorian home set back in the woods just outside of the sleepy, coastal town. Single and youngish, with dark hair, dark scuff, and the most annoyingly stunning green eyes. The objective part of my brain knows he’s attractive.Veryattractive. In the picture Ari is referencing, he’s speaking at a conference a few years ago, and he’s wearing a tailored, dark gray suit that fits him like a glove.
However, the rational part of my brain knows he’s single because he’s rude and condescending—but also because he alluded to it a few months ago.
I mean, who makes someone work while they’re on vacation? Doctor Devil, apparently. I was so mad after he made me check in multiple times a day last year when I went to Cancún with some friends that I’d officially changed his name in my phone toDOCTOR DEVIL,hence the nickname.
“The package might look good, but I can assure you, the contents are rotten,” referring to my boss’s personality.
“Maybe he just doesn’t come across well over email and video calls? You’ve never met him, so maybe he’s perfectly pleasant in person.”
“Ugh. Thelastthing I want is to be graced with his smug expression in person. When we do our monthly calls, it’s just twenty minutes of him staring off-screen at something and rattling off a to-do list for me.”
“Listen, if you’re this unhappy, just quit. The money isn’t worth the mental turmoil. You’ve been through so much, you know? Maybe it’s not worth it.”
“I should. I really should quit. Pull an Anne Hathaway inThe Devil Wears Pradaand throw my stupid work phone into a Parisian fountain.”
“Hell yeah,” Ari says, chuckling. “On that note, I’m going to get us some more wine from the fridge. When I come back, we’re going to brainstorm how to quit. Yes?”
I nod resolutely. “Yes.”
Once she leaves the living room, I lean back and pick my phone back up again. I stare at his email, wondering why he bothers me so much. It’s like ever since I started working for him, I’ve found more ways to hate him, and more reasons to dread all notifications from him. It’s just thewayhe talks to me—as if he’s trying to be an asshole.
I’m grateful for the money, though. I get an insane salary that more than covers the mortgage for a small bungalow in San Diego. The employee package also covers a company car, premium health insurance, and pays for all of my utilities because I’m remote. After the loss I experienced three years ago, I’d latched on to Dr. Kincaid’s generosity. I was vulnerable and grieving a life and a future that disappeared overnight. I was and still am grateful for him for hiring me with almost no experience.
I feltbeholdento him.
Plus, I’d grown accustomed to my life of leisure.
“Well, we killed that bottle,” Ari says in a singsong voice as she saunters back into the living room.
“I’m going to need so much alcohol over the next two weeks,” I grumble, taking three large sips.
“You’ll be near wine country. Maybe Doctor Devil will allow you to take a day trip next weekend?”
“Maybe.”
“Or maybe he’ll tag along with you, get drunk, and confess his love for you.”
I pretend to gag. “No, thank you.”
“Crazier things have happened,” she adds, sipping and giving me a mischievous smile.
“Trust me, he barely tolerates my presence. I’m almost positive the only reason he’s having me go with him next week is because he knows I won’t say no.” Ari narrows her eyes at me. “What?” I ask slowly, not loving the look she’s giving me.
