ADDICTED

4

"Hello," James spoke lowly.

"I just read your text," I said awkwardly. "Is something wrong?"

"Nothing is wrong. I have been in discussion with the Muller Foundation board since this afternoon regarding your visit to the memorial service."

I rolled my eyes. So, what? They were going to banish me? They shouldn't have sent the invitation!

"We want to offer you a position at the Foundation," he said.

I froze. Unfortunately, in doing so, my phone slipped out of my hand and dropped right into the bath water, disappearing into the pink bubbles.

"Shit!" I shrieked. After fishing through the water, my fingers finally found purchase on the device and plucked it out. "Fucking, fuck, shit!"

I rubbed it over with my towel and discovered that the screen was still alive. In fact, the call was still active.

I quickly brought my phone to my ear. "James? Can you hear me?"

There was a moment of silence before a loud sigh filled the line. "Yes, I can hear you perfectly well, Miss Harris. What do you think about our proposition?"

"Well—I'm honestly shocked. I'm not sure what to think."

"What is it you do now? You're a banker, aren't you?"

Each nerve in my mind felt like it was fraying. I couldn't believe this conversation was happening.

"Yes, I am," I said.

"Do you enjoy it? We could arrange a position for you on the finance committee."

I didn't rush to spill out the automatic response of, "Yes, I love my job." Something held me back. Did I enjoy it? I had at one point. I used to love my job.

The last year hadn't been quite the same, though. If I let myself truly reflect and ponder, I knew I was lost.

My passion for finance and my love for Seasons Bank, practically my home for five years, paled in comparison to the free-floating chaos of my mind. I had never been so untethered in my entire life, so without purpose.

Every day was the same. I felt robotic, almost—coming and going always at the same time, with no desire for more or improvement.

How was I supposed to care about someone's bank account when I didn't even care about my own? I always enjoyed material things, but they no longer held the same appeal for me.

So instead of feeding James my generic line, I said, "Actually, I've been thinking about pursuing other paths. I'm good at finance but banking has lost some of its appeal."

"Okay. The only non-finance position I can offer now is as a personal assistant. We are willing to match your current salary."

I might have laughed if I wasn't still in shock. Me, a personal assistant? I had an assistant at my job now. I was used to managing people, not being managed.

Then again, they were willing to pay me what I made now to do something much less difficult and stressful. I wouldn't have to deal with other people's money.

It would be nice not to have to deal with so much pressure, even if only temporarily. And if James was speaking truthfully, I'd probably be the most well-paid PA to ever exist.