I felt woozy from the entire day, and the revelation that Sam had a daughter was just about the thing to push me into a full-on fugue state. And listening to this blonde-haired little tart go on about it like it was the most natural thing in the world wasn't helping matters.

"Grace is such a lovely little girl," said the secretary. "Has the same gorgeous blue eyes as her father."

She then looked around in a conspiratorial fashion.

"And how about Mr. Huntington?" she asked. "Isn't he just the most bloody gorgeous man that you've laid eyes upon? Go on, I won't tattle."

"He's...pretty cute."

"'Pretty cute'?" said the secretary, reacting as though I'd just delivered the understatement of the century. "He's about the most handsome man that I'd ever seen in my life. And I've been doing whatever I can in the last year to try to get him as so much as look at me flirtatiously. But he's got some silly sort of policy about not getting involved with coworkers or some such."

A small wave of relief washed over me. At least I knew that Sam wasn't treating this place like his own personal harem.

But a daughter? I couldn't get over the carefree Sam that I'd known being responsible for a little girl. Hell, it was hard enough seeing him in that business suit of his. This whole day was feeling like some kind of strange dream.

"Who knows," continued the girl. "Maybe you'll be the exception to the rule."

If only you knew, kiddo, I thought to myself, despite the girl likely being around my age.

"Anyway, let's go over Grace's schedule," said the girl, slipping her laptop out of her bag and pulling up some files.

As she got her computer ready, I walked over to Sam's desk and took a look at it. The desk surface was clean and neat, nothing on it but a few expensive-looking pens and a few other office supplies all arranged in an orderly fashion. But there was one photo on the desk, a small picture in a gold, oval frame. I picked it up and saw that it was of a beautiful little girl who looked to be around four or five. She had a darling, angelic face framed by dark, nearly black hair, her eyes the same brilliant blue as Sam's.

"This is Grace?" I asked.

"That's her," said the secretary. "Gorgeous little child, isn't she?"

"Yes," I said, meaning it. "She's beautiful."

"Awful story about the mother.”

"What happened?" I asked.

"Divorce. Apparently the life of a stay-at-home mother just wasn’t for her. She and Sam hadn't even been married a year. Awful business, and what a foolish woman. I’d kill to be taken care of by a man like that."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing, or seeing. My eyes on the picture, I felt like I was in some sort of strange dream. The idea that Sam had built this life, everything around me, in the few years since we'd known each other…it was so much to take in. And as terrible and self-centered as it sounds, I couldn't help but realize that this all meant that I'd been supplanted in his mind by bigger and more important things, that I was just a brief pit-stop on his way to meaningful, successful life- one in which I'd be nothing more than a supporting player.

"So, Grace has piano lessons right after classes…"

I sat down next to the secretary as she went over the finer points of Grace's schedule. My head swam as she spoke, and I did all I could to focus on what she was telling me. But I was beginning to reach my breaking point from the pressure of the say; next thing I knew I'd be finding out that Sam was a secret agent or something.

"And that's that," said the secretary. "I'll go ahead and email all of this to you; it's not too complicated, but Mr. Huntington likes to keep his schedule orderly and neat, just like everything else in his life, apparently."

And that was that. I bid the secretary farewell, grabbed my things, and rushed out of there as quickly as I could without looking like I was fleeing. I took the train home, barely able to hold a thought in my head. The world around me seemed to pass in a blur, and I wanted nothing more than to get home and catch my breath, if only for an evening.

"He's what?" asked Anna, her eyes wide and her hands barely holding onto her teacup.

"You heard me," I said. "He's married –I mean divorced- with a kid. And he's like some big shot executive at that place."

"This is just beyond bizarre to hear. Sam Huntington, the man who could barely keep his shifts straight at that bar of his, is now an executive?"

"That's the part you're having the hardest time with?"

"Well, darling, it's all quite bizarre, but one has to start somewhere, no?"

I suppose she had a point.

"That young man would go on and on about how he would never sell out, never put on the noose, as he called it," she wrapped her hand around her neck to imitate a tie. "So to hear that he's working in finance…well, it's a lot. I imagined him working behind that bar for the rest of his life."

"And his daughter!" I said.

"Oh, my!" said Anna. "He has a little girl! Simply unbelievable. A single father raising a daughter…not exactly where I pictured Sam to be, that's for damn certain."

"And all of this would be insane to hear about just third-hand or something, but on top of everything, now I have to work for him."

There was a defeated tone in my voice.

"That's certainly a sticky wicket," Anna said. "Well, what did you and Sam talk about?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, when you two were alone, what sort of conversation did you have?"

"We…didn't really," I said. "We were never alone, and he just assigned me some work for the day that I turned in at the end."

"My, my," said Anna, shaking her head. "So you two haven't even addressed this whole mess."

"Not in the slightest."

"Then here's what you do," she said, leaning in close. "Just ignore the whole thing."

"What?" I shot out. "How the hell am I supposed to ignore something like this?"

"Well, it'll be addressed in time, of course, but let Sam be the first one to bring it up. Don't come crawling to him like a girlfriend needing to have a ‘serious chat'; it'll get everything off on the wrong foot. Instead, just wait for him to bring it up, and when he does, just play it off like it was something you'd simply noticed."

"And why would I do this?" I asked.

"Because this little dynamic, like all dynamics, is about power. If you come to him and make it clear as day that you've been tying that stomach of yours into knots, then he'll know that he can use those emotions to get you to jump through whatever hoops he wants. You'll be completely at his mercy."

"So, just play it cool," I said.

"Precisely."

It was easy for Anna to say; playing it cool seemed natural to her. For someone like me, on the other hand, I felt like any bit of insecurity and anxiety that I had inside was plastered on my face like a billboard for all to see.

My sleep that night was as restless as it could be; I'd be surprised if I got even an hour or two. But when I rose from bed the next morning, I kept Anna's words in mind.

"Just play it cool."

I repeated the words during my train ride, trying all the anxiety breathing exercises I knew and doing my best to clear my head. But nothing worked. All I could do was go over again and again the events of the last day. And worst of all, I knew that there was a conversation to be had, one where Sam and I got everything out in the open.

Why, I wondered, couldn't I just be working for some normal, fat, cranky, middle-aged businessman?

Standing in front of the building, I steeled myself just as I'd done before. I took a long draw of breath, and stepped into the spacious lobby. I was determined not to let my nerves get the better of me, but it was all just so much to deal with. I had no idea how this conversation would go, and part of me wanted to just turn around and walk right out of the building, putting the whole mess behind me.

But I didn't; stiff upper lip, as the Brits say.

Stepping out of the elevator, I made my way to Sam's office. Taking one last deep breath, I opened the door.

Relief washed over me when I saw that he was there with Mrs. Haverford.

"There's the girl," Mrs. Haverford said.

Sam's face was impassive, though I could've sworn that I saw a hint of that devilish smile on his lips.

"Was I late for something?" I asked, walking into the office with hesitant steps.

"Not at all," said Sam. "We just have a big meeting about to start and you're going to need to be at my side for it."

"Ah," I said, my stomach still tense.

"Yes," said Mrs. Haverford. "Lucky to have brought you on when we did, as we'll be discussing the projects for the upcoming quarter."

"Sounds good," I said.

"Now, Ms. Metzger," said Sam. "I expect you to take careful and thorough notes. There isn't a trace of this meet that I want to go unrecorded."

Thankfully for Sam, taking notes was my specialty. There were perks to being a teacher's pet, after all.

"Well," said Sam, looking at his watch. "Shall we?"

"Let's," said Mrs. Haverford.

With that, the three of us left Sam's office and headed down the hallway. Moments later, we were in a conference room that was somehow even grander than the one I'd met Sam in the previous day. The room was packed full of important-looking men and women in power suits, and the three of us took seats near the back end of the table. Light chatter filled the room, but ceased once the door to the conference room opened up. Everyone's mouth shut and eyes focused on the man entering the room. He was an elderly, slight man, but dressed in a gorgeous pinstripe suit, his hair as white as cotton and his wrinkled face shaved so clean that it seemed to glow. He had a bearing to him that projected authority and poise.

"Richard Langford," said Mrs. Haverford into my ear. "Owner of this humble little firm of ours. And your boss."

"Good morning, everyone," said Mr. Langford in a resonant, aristocratic voice. "Glad to see we don't have any stragglers this morning. Now, I'll get right to it."

His eyes flicked around the room, lingering for just a moment on every single person there. And when his baby-blue eyes landed on me, I felt a strange mixture of emotions; I felt both small and humble, but also welcome.

"This upcoming quarter is quite important, as you all well know. How we perform in these next few months will determine our standing among the more senior firms of this little city's financial sector. If we perform as well as I believe we can, Langford Holdings may very become a household name in the world of finance."

He went on for a while, going over our goals for the next quarter. And through it all, he had a way of speaking that held all of us in rapt attention. Despite the dry nature of the meeting, he managed to discuss the matters at hand in a way that made it seem as though he were weaving an intricate, thrilling story. I understood clearly how a man like this could run a company like Langford.

"Now," he said, "I'm going to be giving you all assignments for this next quarter. I won't fib- these are going to be time-consuming projects, the lot of them. But if we all do our part, and carry our share, the results will be beyond spectacular."

He then sized up the room, as if figuring out where to start. Finally, he settled on one of the executives, handing her a folder and outlining her role.

"Ah, and once I've given you our project, you may leave. Please, don't waste a moment in getting started," he said.

The first executive left, followed by the next, then the next as Mr. Langford went around the room. After an hour or so, it was just me, Sam, and Mrs. Haverford. My stomach tightened; it was quite intimidating to be nearly alone in the room with a man like this. Taking Mrs. Haverford aside, he explained something in hushed tones. And once he was done, she flashed a knowing look back at Sam before mouthing the words "good luck," and heading out.

"Young Samuel," he said. "My star pupil. It would appear to be just you and I left."

But before Sam had a chance to respond, Mr. Langford's eyes flicked to me. He looked me over carefully, in a way that seemed to be taking an almost supernatural look at my character.

"And this lovely young woman; she's the assistant from the states we brought on?"

"That's her," said Sam.

"Mary Metzger," I said, jutting out my hand in a rare display of self-confidence.

"Richard Langford," he responded, taking my hand and shaking it in a manner that was both gentlemanly and authoritative. "Welcome aboard."

"Thank you," I said. "Pleased to be part of the team."

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Sam watch the proceedings with an approving glance.

"Sam, there's a reason that I have you here last," said Mr. Langford. "I have a special assignment that I would like you to handle. Now, before I tell you what it is, it goes without saying that it must be handled with the utmost discretion. Understand?"

Sam nodded.

"Very good. The project that I have in mind for you is to survey the city where I'm considering an expansion."

"An expansion?" asked Sam, more than a little surprised. "To where?"

"Why, New York, of course."

My eyes went wide. Not only was this clearly a really, really big deal, but I'd be working alongside Sam with this project.

"You're thinking of making an expansion to New York?" he asked. "But…I thought that this was something that was perhaps at least a year off in the distance."

"It was, but things have been going so well for our firm that I'm moving the schedule up ahead, just a bit. And if this quarter goes as well as I'm hoping…well, I don't want to be wasting any more time than necessary. So, you and your assistant will be doing quite a bit of back-and-forth over the next few months. I hope you two get along."

"Splendidly," said Sam, quickly speaking.

I was glad he said something, as I'm sure I would've been tongue-tied if the attention had been on me.

"Very good. Then I'm going to be putting you in charge of, how they say, sending feelers out to New York. Head to the city, take it in, scout out locations, lick your finger and put it in the air- that sort of thing."

"So, you'd like everything to be in order for a possible overseas expansion?"

"No, my boy," said Mr. Langford. "I want you to do the overseas expansion. I want everything to be ready by the time the quarter is over; I want the only thing left to be for me to say ‘go'."

Sam nodded slowly. It was clear that the task laid out before him was leaving him uncharacteristically speechless.

"Then I'll leave you to it," said Mr. Langford. "Go ahead and use the conference room if you like; I'm sure you and Ms. Metzger have plenty to discuss."

He had no idea.

With that, he left the room, leaving Sam and me alone in the silence.

"New York," he said, staring off into space.

"Yep," I said. "New York."

"Then I suppose we ought to get started."

"Yeah," I said. "Probably should."

Sam rose to leave. But I wasn't letting him get off the hook that easily.

"Wait," I said. "One thing first."

Sam turned and looked at me over his shoulder.

"Yes?"

I stood up, and stared him right in the eyes.

"Will you please tell me just what the hell's been going on with you for the last five years?"