Folding For You

Chapter 4: Sabrina

I couldn't hold it in. As we dug into the hot wings, the words tumbled out before I even realised what I was saying.

"I got fired from my job today."

Killian froze, a wing halfway to his mouth. The restaurant's noise seemed to fade for a second, and all I could feel was the weight of what I'd just admitted. His eyes fixed on me, sharp and questioning.

"I'm sure you've been wondering why I look like crap," I added, trying to laugh it off, but it came out weak. "Well, there's your answer."

He put the wing down slowly, his expression shifting from surprise to angrier. "On what grounds did they lay you off?"

I sighed, pushing a stray fry around my plate. The frustration I'd felt earlier bubbled up again, my words coming out bitter.

"My colleague, Cassandra, told my supervisor that I was job-hunting. I can't believe I trusted her with that. I thought she had my back, you know? But now I realise she just wanted my position."

Killian's jaw clenched, and I could see he held back whatever thoughts were swirling in his head. His voice was tight when he asked, "What do you do?"

"Senior Copywriter," I said, still feeling the sting of saying it in the past tense. That title meant everything to me. "Or at least I was."

"For which company?" His tone sharpened, the question more direct.

I hesitated for a beat. It wasn't like RebelKinc was some huge secret, but the way he asked made me pause. Finally, I muttered, "RebelKinc Advertising."

That's when something in his face changed. It was subtle—maybe a tightening around the eyes or a slight shift in his posture—but it made me wonder. He let out a low laugh that made it seem like he was holding back more than he was saying. The moment passed, and he didn't give me much time to think about it before continuing.

"Who's your supervisor?" he asked, suddenly looking like someone who has something up his sleeves.

"Vincent Dawson," I replied, then shot back, "Why?"

But instead of answering me, he casually picked up another wing, shifting gears like we hadn't just been discussing my life unravelling.

"These wings are amazing," he said as if we were just two people enjoying a meal without the heavy stuff. "I'll have to bring my business partner here one day."

I blinked, caught off guard by how smoothly he'd dodged my question. My mind raced, trying to make sense of his sudden shift. He seemed far too interested in my layoff for it to be just sympathy, and I couldn't shake the feeling that there was something he wasn't telling me.

"Killian," I asked carefully, "Do you know anyone from RebelKinc?"

He paused mid-bite, his eyes flicking up to meet mine. Something unreadable was in his expression, like he was weighing what to say next.

To my disappointment, Killian didn't answer my question. Instead, he leaned back in his seat, his eyes locked on mine, and asked, "Do you still want your current job?"

I blinked, taken aback by the sudden shift. "Not," I said, going on the defensive. "I can never go back there. I'm not going to work with people who stabbed me in the back."

He nodded as if he had expected my answer. "Fair enough," he said, his tone even, almost business-like. "Your resume. Send it to me. Perhaps I can make a few calls."

The way he said it was smooth and confident, like he was offering me a simple favour—but with that air of someone who could make things happen. His voice had this strange blend of charm and authority, and suddenly, I wasn't sure who I was sitting across from.