The day after I…saw everything, I went through a whirlwind of emotions. I felt stupid, silly for thinking that I might mean something to Samuel. I felt anger at him for being so careless with my feelings. I felt hurt, my heart aching at the thought of him being with another woman. I felt arrogant, for thinking that I might mean something more to him than his ex-wife and the mother of his child.

All of this ran through me, one feeling after another until I felt nothing but overwhelmed.

Despite my conflicting emotions, however, there was one thing that I knew for certain: I couldn't be in the same house with Sam any longer.

It pained me to realize it; I felt like I was being unprofessional, not to mention the matter of how Grace might feel about it. But I knew that I couldn't even begin to process my emotions, let alone do the work that I needed to do for the rest of our time here, with the man who'd hurt me so mere feet away. So, when I finally got up the nerve to leave my room the next day, I told Sam in clear, calm terms that I wanted to have a place of my own during the remainder of our time here.

Thankfully, he was eager to comply.

I could sense that there was more he wanted to talk about, but I'd made it clear that I didn't want to hear a word of what he had to say. After all, what explanation could he have for being in the middle of a kiss with his ex-wife, her legs wrapped around him? I shuddered to think about what I might've seen had I walked in a minute or two later.

But I wouldn't have to think about it any longer; Sam arranged for a one-bedroom down on the Lower East Side, and by the afternoon I was at my new place. It wasn't easy saying goodbye to Grace, but I promised her that I'd be around to take her around the city. However, I had no idea what would become of the two of us once I was done with this project.

I felt overwhelmed with everything. So, once I was done with my work for the day, I couldn't think of anything better to do with my evening than to drown my sorrows in a bottle of something sweet and white. About halfway through the bottle, my phone buzzed, and I saw that it was Anne.

Finally, I thought, picking up the phone to answer. Someone who I could bear to talk to.

"Hey, darling!" came her cheerful voice on the other end.

"Hey," I said, unable to mask just how miserable I felt.

"Oh, no," said Anne. "That tone won't do at all. Tell me everything."

So I did. I told her about Sam, about what he'd done. Then I told her about Junior, and the position that he'd put me in.

Laying it all out there like that made me feel a little better, but there was no way around the terrible position that I was in on both fronts. Even if things between Sam and I were somehow to be resolved, there was still the issue of the boss's son all but telling me that if I didn't do whatever he wanted, I wouldn't have a future with the company.

"That's…quite the shitty little situation you've found yourself in there, my friend."

"No kidding," I said. "I wish I was back there in London, drinking some tea with you in the living room and talking about anything but this."

"I know what you mean," she said. "But think of it this way: you're not going to find yourself in a worse situation than this anytime soon."

I let out a dry chuckle. "Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

"Well, maybe," she said. "It means that if you can get through this situation, there likely isn't anything that you won't be able to handle. I mean really- a jackass boss and the owner's son who wants to do lord-knows-what with you? Doesn't get much worse. But if you can see through to the other side…well, you'll be able to take care of anything that life might throw your way."

Strangely, this did make me feel a bit better.

"Thanks, Anne," I said.

We chatted a bit more, with her catching me up on how things were going back in London. But soon, the need to be alone overcame me.

"Sleep well, my little muffin," said Anne, in such a way that allowed me to easily picture the grin on her face. "And I know you can get through this; I'm pulling for you."

I said my goodbyes and hung up. A little more resolve took hold, but I still felt overwhelmed by all that was going on.

Then, right at that moment, just when I thought things couldn't get any worse, my phone lit up with a text.

It was Junior.

• Evening, darling. Just checking in to see if you've given what we'd discussed any thought?

I hemmed and hawed over what to say. Part of me just wanted to tell him to screw off and be done with it, damn the consequences. After all, what job could be worth being pawed on by a slimeball like Junior?

But I finally settled on a text.

• Still thinking about everything. A lot going on with work.

Moments later came the response.

• Of course, of course. But don't let the matter get too far out of mind; I expect you to have an answer by the dinner a week from Friday.

The what!? I had no idea what he was referring to, and sent him a text explaining as much.

• You mean Sam hasn't told you? So much for keeping everyone in the loop…Anyway, I, my father, and the rest of the higher-ups in Langford will be paying you two a little visit. It'll be a lovely evening; lots of meeting and greeting. And I hope that you'll have good news for me.

I wanted to smash the phone in my hand. Instead, I sent a brief reply.

• Looking forward to it.

The phone buzzed with the response before my hand even fell back to my side.

• As am I : )

It didn't take a genius to know exactly what he meant by this; Junior figured that he had me right in the palm of his hand. And to be honest, I didn't know what I was going to do. Part of me wanted to call Sam, to tell him everything, to hope that he could sort all of this horrible business out. But after what he put me through, coming to him and beginning for help was the last thing I wanted to do.

Instead, I got a good night's sleep and woke up gripped with determination. I threw myself into my work, knocking out every little project that I needed to get done. The days flew past, and losing myself in my work was the only thing that allowed me to stay sane.

Sam and I were still in communication, mostly through texts and emails, but it was all business; he must've gotten the hint that I wasn't interested in talking about anything but the work that needed to get done.

And the work got done. Sam and I, despite everything, were a deadly team. I'd line up the meetings and he'd wow the clients. About halfway through the week I realized, as I looked over the financial figures, that this thing was not only going to happen, but it was going to happen faster than either of us hoped for; Richard had given us a few months to get this expansion sorted out, and we were poised to have it ready to go in one. I couldn't believe how efficiently we worked together.

I don't know how she got my address, but Grace stayed in close contact- I couldn't have been happier about this. She kept me posted on all the fun things she was doing in the city with her tutor, and made sure to keep my inbox full with all of her latest art projects. I didn't know what was to become of our relationship, but I swore to at least enjoy the contact we had now. It was strange- I never really thought of myself as the "mother type," but something about Grace was bringing it out of me. It was a strange development, and almost too much for me to deal with. Still, I couldn't help but enjoy this new feeling that had me in its grips.

The week rushed by. Soon, it was only a few days until the evening with Richard and all the rest. Sam and I had just finished lining up the office space for the New York branch, and all that remained was to make connections with some new clients in the city. We hadn't hit even a snag, and I found myself feeling a little thrilled at the idea of bringing Richard and the rest of the executives such good news about what we'd been able to accomplish here in so little time.

• You know, we do make a good team.

I looked at the text from Sam, not sure what to make of it. It was the first thing he'd said to me since the incident with Evelyn that hinted at anything beyond the most sterile and professional of working relationships.

He's extending an overture, I thought to myself, pacing around the living room of my apartment.

I knew I needed to say something, but I didn't want him to think that I was warming to him in the slightest.

But was I?

I suppose so.

No response came; I think he knew that he needed to maneuver very carefully. Though I might've been pleased with how our work was going, the fact remained that he'd betrayed me, that he'd taken what we'd had and thrown it right in my face, that he'd slept with me and acted so cold to me afterward. Just thinking about it was enough to make my fists clench in anger.

That Thursday we put the finishing touches on the presentation. There were still a few loose ends to tie up, but they could all be easily taken care of back in London. The fact of the matter was that, with one day before the evening meeting, Sam and I had successfully negotiated the international expansion of Langford Holdings. It'd taken everything I'd learned in school and every bit of energy I had, but Sam and I had pulled it off. All that remained was to tell Richard and the rest of everything that we'd accomplished.

That night, I decided to treat myself to an evening out, just me. My salary had been accumulating in my bank account since I'd started with Langford, and checking my balance that morning my eyes went a little wide at just how much money was there. So, I went out to Fifth Avenue to pick something out for tomorrow. I spent hours trying different dresses on, knowing with a contented feeling in my heart that whatever I wanted, I could buy with my own money. Eventually, I settled on a flowing, champagne-colored gown that didn't end up being that much money after all.

After a lovely dinner for one out on the town, I headed back to the apartment to get a good night's sleep for the big day tomorrow. The next morning, I woke up feeling hopeful for the first time in a long while.

But a text from Junior brought me crashing back to reality.

• Good morning : ) I hope you're as excited about tonight as I am. I've arranged a car for you; Expect it at seven on the dot.

I felt sick and stressed. But above all, I felt angry. Angry that a scummy little worm like Junior would ruin what should be a night of celebration with his lecherous ways. Still wearing my pajamas, I paced back and forth through the apartment, wondering just how to handle this horrible situation. He made it clear what would be the cost if I told him no, and the idea of giving in to what he wanted was enough to make my stomach turn.

But I had to make a decision. I'd have to stand up to him, even if it cost me everything. Between that and everything that was going on with Sam, part of me thought that parting with Langford wasn't the worst thing in the world. Sure, I'd likely have to leave London and come back to Iowa to try to start assembling some kind of career from the wreckage of this mess, but at least it would be on my own terms.

I got dressed and ready, and right at six, I received a text.

It was from Junior.

• Waiting downstairs for you. Can't wait to see what you're wearing for me : )

I shuddered. The idea that Junior would think that I'd go out of my way to look sexy for him was enough to make my skin crawl. I headed down to the street, where a long, sleek, black limo waited for me. But instead of a chauffeur waiting to open the door for me, it was Junior. He was dressed in a black tux that, while obviously expensive, still strained against his paunch. His red hair was slicked back as always, and his limpid eyes were locked onto my body from the moment I stepped out of the apartment, and his puffy lips were pulled up into a boyish little smile.

"There's the girl of the hour," he said, approaching me and giving me a kiss on the hand that sent shivers up my spine in the worst way possible. "I've been so looking forward to this evening; you have no idea."

"Yeah," I said. "Big night."

He opened the door and let me in. I slid into the luxurious interior of the limo, trying to find a spot with as much distance between Junior and me as possible. But the effort was in vain; as soon as he got in he slid right next to me.

"You have no idea," he said as the limo took off. "I can't wait to let father know of the work we've done here."

"'We'?" I asked.

"Why, of course," he said. "I've been acting in a supervisory position to you and Sam during this little expansion initiative. But don't worry; you and he will both get substantial credit for your efforts."

I couldn't believe my ears. Junior just said, in clear terms, that he was planning on taking all of the credit for the expansion. He hadn't done a damn thing during this project aside from sitting in the apartment his daddy bought for him and drink wine while Sam and I'd been busting our asses putting this whole thing together. And here he was, planning on swooping in and telling his father that he'd been the architect behind everything. The whole situation made me so mad –beyond mad; furious- that part of me wanted to grab the nearest wine bottle and club him over the head with it.

"But enough business," he said, handing me a glass of champagne. "This evening is about celebration."

He raised his glass.

"To new opportunities," he said, a perverse little glint in his watery eyes.