I wake up with a hangover.

Apparently the universe decided that not getting laid wasn’t punishment enough. So I go for a quick three mile run downstairs in my building’s gym and then jump in a cold shower. After a little pep talk, I’m ready to start my day and get back on track doing what I do best.

Winning.

Look, I’m good at almost everything. There’s no point in being overly modest. It is what it is. As I look in the full-length mirror on the back of my closet door, my reflection is like a work of art, every detail curated to exude the image I’ve crafted over the years. Refined elegance with a hint of savagery. At thirty-one, I’m an executive on the fast track. But I haven’t forgotten where I come from.

My mom was a single parent. My dad split so young I barely remember him and we haven’t seen him since. I saw how hard my mom worked to keep things together so my brother and I didn’t suffer. Most of my clothes were hand-me-downs from my cousins and there were multiple occasions when our lights were turned off or we had to move because we couldn’t afford the rent anymore. But as I pull on a steel gray Tom Ford jacket and pair it with a dove gray silk tie, I must admit that where I started and where I’ve landed are worlds apart.

That’s why I can’t allow my recent string of bad luck to get me down. I’ve had a few bad dates. Not that I consider the dicktastrophe at the bar a date. But whatever the case, I’m going to shake off the bad juju I’ve accumulated and get back to making deals and climbing the corporate ladder. I can’t afford to make any mistakes at work, not with Mya nipping at my heels. She’s just hoping that I make a mistake. Especially with the current rumors flying around the office. If they’re true, then this is not the time to slack off.

The ride down to the first floor of my building passes quickly. Luckily no one else is on their way out this early so I don’t have to suffer through polite conversation with any of my neighbors. By the time I reach the parking level, it’s exactly 6:05 a.m.

Right on time.

My usual spot is open so it’s less than twenty minutes after leaving my building that I’m entering the elevator at the Madison building where The Mirage Agency has it’s East Coast office. As I hit the button for the tenth floor, a woman enters and gives me a slow look from head to toe. She’s smiling until she gets off on five and then gives me a little wave over her shoulder as she exits.

Yeah, I know I look good.

Here’s the thing, looks are subjective and blah blah blah but there’s no use pretending some of us don’t have an advantage. Do women stop and do a double take when they see me?

Yes.

Has pussy always been readily available?

Also yes.

So if I pretended my looks have had nothing to do with my success, I’d be the worst sort of hypocrite. But the main thing that has pushed me to where I am today - wealthy, a top executive at a major ad agency and living my best life - is confidence. I’ve got it in spades. You could say I have balls of steel. No, balls of titanium.

The only thing that throws me off my game is–

“Good morning Miss Taylor.”

Mya pauses in the middle of the hallway and then turns slowly. Her cinnamon brown eyes narrow slightly as if looking for the ulterior motive in my words.

“Milo. You’re here early.” She looks annoyed and I realize my hunch was right. I guess she’s heard the rumors, too. She’s been coming in earlier and earlier trying to beat me in the office.

Yeah, good luck with that. I’ve had insomnia for years so it’s no hardship to come in early when you never went to sleep.

“I’m always here early. Haven’t seen you in before sunrise too often though.” I chuckle at the sparks in her eyes. Damn if looks could kill she’d have me on a spit roasting over a fire by now. “You must really want that partnership, huh?”

As I walk down the hall toward my office, I hear the shuffle of Mya’s feet as she jogs after me. “What does that mean?”

In my office, I set my briefcase next to my desk and hit the mouse to wake up my computer. Mya leans against the doorframe.

“You haven’t heard?”

She crosses her arms. “Spit it out, Hamilton. Did James actually say he’s taking on a partner or is this just the millionth rumor since Elizabeth left?”

The owner of the Mirage Agency, James Lawson, has been running things alone since buying out his former partner, and former wife, Elizabeth. Ever since, we all assumed he’d never consider taking on a partner. Which was disappointing because I’ve loved working here but knew I’d have to eventually move on as my career progressed. But then last week, he let it slip in one of our meetings that he’s been thinking of expanding and it would require a change in management.

Which of course was when I started formulating my plans.

“Not in so many words. But he did say that he wants to expand beyond the coasts. D.C. and L.A. are great of course, but he wants Mirage to be able to compete on a national level. Which means offices in New York, Seattle, Miami and possibly Houston to start. He’d need to have partners to handle that kind of workload, right?”

Mya’s mouth has fallen open at this point, fueling my usual dirty fantasies of what those lush lips can do. But before I can say something guaranteed to put the fire back in those begging brown eyes, the man in question appears in the hall behind her.

“Change of plans. I’ve moved the weekly status meeting to first thing today. I have a last minute call I need to take this afternoon.”

I nod at James to let him know I’ll be ready. Once he leaves, Mya turns to face me again, her eyes shooting daggers.

“That partnership is mine. I’ve been here longer, worked harder and been more loyal than any other associate here.”

I grin. She’s feeling the heat of a little competition already, huh? My smile seems to only annoy her further which of course gives me great incentive to keep doing it. If she only knew how much enjoyment I get watching her cheeks flush and those perfectly shaped breasts bounce behind her conservative blouses when she’s pissed.

“Stop smiling, Hamilton. I’m serious. This promotion will not be just one more thing you steal from me.” Then she turns on one skinny stiletto heel and twitches off.

* * *

Mya’s accusation is still ringing in my head hours later. What the hell does she think I stole from her?

“So I have this idea. I think it could be even better than what we’ve come up with so far.”

The squeaky voice of Wallace Burns assaults my ears from the right. Our team meeting just concluded and I figured for once I’d be able to get out of there in under an hour. But… best laid plans and all that.

James glances at me briefly before nodding at Wallace. The Mirage Agency takes a team approach which means that junior associates are assigned to the team of a senior marketing associate. Wallace is my newest team member. We encourage open communication from the lowest marketing associate to the highest executive. Which is a great idea … in theory.

“So I was thinking we could show the car hauling a bus. You know, to show its power. It has,” Wallace glances down at his notes, “366 horsepower. That’s a lot for a hybrid. We should showcase that by having it haul things through a forest or something.”

“A forest?” James echoes lightly.

“Yeah. The Luxiva is going to be the most powerful yet environmentally friendly hybrid yet. I figured we could symbolize that with the forest.”

Someone down the table coughs nervously. I roll my eyes. Mya’s lips curl up briefly into a smile before she takes a sip of her coffee.

James gathers the files on the table in front of him. “Great initiative, Wallace. That’s exactly the kind of excitement we like to see from our junior associates. We’ve got a winning proposal here to present to the Luxiva brand next week but keep up the enthusiasm.”

Everyone in the room takes his bullshit pat on the back for the dismissal it is and soon the room is a flurry of movement as several bodies stand, stretch, collect coffee cups and in general get the hell out of there.

Meanwhile I’m still thinking, I stole something from her?

In the hall Wallace says, “I should’ve run that idea by you first, huh?”

No shit, Sherlock. “That would have been wise.”

Wallace sighs. “James probably thinks I’m an idiot now.”

For sure. “We all made our mistakes coming up.”

As we approach my office, Wallace lets out a melodramatic sigh. “Can you tell me where I’m going wrong? I keep trying to come up with ideas that are different but nothing works out.” He pushes past me and into my office without waiting for an invitation.

I look longingly down the hall toward the break room. If we’re going to have a come to Jesus moment, couldn’t we at least do it over coffee?

But the earnest look on his face touches whatever’s left of my cold, dead heart. I take a seat behind my desk.

“Let me let you in on a little secret Wally.”

He shifts uncomfortably. “Um, it’s Wallace actually.”

“That’s a lot of name. Look kid, people don’t want different no matter what they say. Kind of like when women claim they don’t care how tall a guy is or if his cock is small.”

Wallace covers his crotch while nodding ruefully. Jesus. I don’t even want to know what subconscious memory triggered that reflex.

“Your idea was the perfect example. No one buying a $100,000 Luxiva gives a shit if it’s environmentally friendly or it can haul a bus. These are the type of people who’d buy the rainforest for their New Year’s Eve party before investing money to save it.”

After an awkward pause, Wallace asks, “So what do I do?”

“Remember that people want the same things they’ve always wanted. Luxury, power, sex. Not what they claim to want. Because most people are hypocrites.”

Slow clapping interrupts.

We both turn to see Mya standing in the doorway to my office. She raises her eyebrows. “Gems of wisdom from our resident hedonist.”

“Nothing wrong with pleasure, Miss Taylor. Isn’t that what the luxury division of Mirage is all about?”

Mya ignores me and looks at Wallace. “Let me know if you ever decide to switch management teams, Ace. We could use a guy like you with a good heart. Or you know, a heart period.”

I stand and clap the petrified looking younger man on the shoulders. “That’s what I’ll call you. Ace! Best slogan you’ve come up with all season Miss Taylor.”

A knock on the door interrupts. Anya, the office manager is holding a huge bouquet of flowers. “Delivery for you, Mya. Should I put it in your office with the others?”

“Oh yes. Thank you!” Mya leaves, closing the door slightly behind her.

“I guess her boyfriend is still in the dog house,” Wallace mumbles as he approaches the door.

My hand hits the wood harder than I intend and the door slams closed before he can leave. Wallace jumps back in surprise.

“Sorry, kid. What did you say about the dog house?” I’m way more interested than I should be in the details of Miss Taylor’s perfect life but there’s no denying that I’m interested.

Wallace stares at me with eyes wide as saucers. “N-Nothing. It’s just that Mr. Carter has sent flowers for three days in a row now.”

“I thought they broke up?”

Now Wallace is looking at me like I’m the green rookie. “They did. Dude, no guy is that romantic unless he’s in trouble or trying to impress. I heard he cheated on her. But maybe that’s just a rumor. Because I also heard she cheated on him.”

All I can think is, no fucking way.

My instinctive leap to her defense is surprising. There are very few women who earn the benefit of the doubt from me. Guys get such a bad rap for chasing tail but women are even worse, they’re just impressed by different things. Instead of tits and ass, they want power and position.

My college sweetheart, Tessa, taught me that lesson well. She was my first love, and damn did I fall hard. Until I caught her banging one of her professors in his office. Karma usually comes around in the end, though. He didn’t even give her a good grade.

“Mya wouldn’t do that,” I interrupt.

Wallace looks taken aback by my defense of my sworn enemy. His speculative look is making me uncomfortable so I laugh it off.

“What? She’s a man eater and evil to the core but she’s honest. She’ll at least warn you before she turns your testicles into her earrings.”

He winces at that. “Well, anyway. The flowers probably mean he’s trying to get her back.”

I have to concede to his wisdom since I have no experience with trying to get a woman to stay. Usually I’m trying to convince them to leave without making a scene.

“Right. Thank you, Wallace. You’ve been very helpful. Send me another idea for the Luxiva and I promise I’ll take a look at it.”

He pumps his fist in the air once and then coughs, visibly reigning in his excitement. “Yes, sir. I’ll start on it now.” He leaves with a visible spring in his step.

I barely notice because my eyes are glued to the exploding bouquet of flowers that is visible on Mya’s desk down the hall. At this angle, I can’t see what she’s doing but that damn bouquet is practically taking over the room. For some reason I can’t stop thinking about the rumor Wallace mentioned. Who the fuck would cheat on a woman like Mya?

I think of some of the scathing comments she’s made over the past year but in fairness, I have to admit that I’m the only one who seems to provoke this evil side of her. Everyone else describes her as smart, focused and fair. She’s the type who’d work a long day but then take one of the interns out for drinks to celebrate their birthday. Not the type to cheat on a guy and break his heart. Which leads me back to the first theory that her boyfriend was the cheater.

And now he’s sending her bouquets so big they need their own zip code. I glare at the flowers one more time before closing my office door.

If Mya is distracted by her boyfriend woes that will make it easier for me to win this account. And I do love to win.

That’s the only reason I care.

Obviously.