Harold's POV
I shot a deadly glare at the manager, but the guy just played dumb, acting like he couldn't see my murderous expression.
The manager's face lit up with hope, and I couldn't help but let out a bitter laugh. "Got something on your mind? If not, get lost!" I snapped.
"Mr. Bailey, how long are you planning to stick around this time? Word's gotten out that you're in Heather, and everyone's racing here from all corners!" The manager seized his moment, words tumbling out eagerly. "They've all been dying to see you."
I found myself speechless, thinking this guy's desperate, ass-kissing routine was even more convincing than Phoebe's charm offensive.
"Sounds like you've all been living it up out here. Maybe I haven't been keeping you busy enough," I said coolly.
Truth was, I'd shipped these guys overseas and barely kept tabs on them since. When he claimed to miss me, it wasn't genuine affection—just fear that I'd completely forget their existence.
