I don’t know what to do. I’ve lost my job. I’ve lost the job that was waiting there for me since I graduated from high school. My dad lined up this job for me, and I worked my way through college knowing that I would do this for the rest of my life, that I didn’t need to worry about job applications because I was set.

And now, I have nothing.

Not only that, but I also caused Kylie to lose her job. Judging by the anger that crackled around her in the elevator earlier and the way she obviously wants nothing to do with me, she’s not taking it very well. And, why should she? She’s right.

Everything she said to me hurts, but it’s true.

I have a lot of financial stability and a positive future to fall back on, despite this hiccup. Kylie, on the other hand, didn’t have much to start off with and now – thanks to me – she has even less.

I have to phone Hendricks. I need to see him and speak to him about this. Even if it does nothing for me, though, it might help Kylie get a leg up in life again. Maybe he can pull some strings for her. It’s the least he could do at this point.

Every time I think about Kylie and her being fired, I feel sick to my stomach. I feel guilty that she lost her job. I feel hurt that she doesn’t want anything to do with me, but I feel terrible that her life is falling apart because of me.

Why couldn’t I just keep it in my pants? I’m so used to getting what I want I insist on it, now. I’m a spoiled brat, and I know it.

And now Kylie is in a bad place and unwilling to see me or speak to me properly. God, what a mess.

When I get home, I walk to the wet bar in the corner of my living room and pour myself three fingers of whiskey. I don’t like drinking as a rule, but this is a special occasion. I throw the amber liquid back, and it burns down my throat. I pour another three fingers, but this time I sip it, slowly.

The alcohol makes me feel light and airy, but the sick feeling in my stomach doesn’t go away. Why would it?

I close my eyes and flash on Kylie’s face. She looked so hurt when she heard she was fired, so broken. The look on her face was such a stark contrast from the other expressions I’ve seen her have – lust, orgasms, shyness, smiles, bliss. I don’t like that I was partly the cause of that look on her face. Of course, she was to blame for what happened, too. I didn’t hold a gun to her head and tell her to fuck me.

Still, I know I was a lot more comfortable than she was, and she was the one that was right to be so cautious.

Damn hindsight.

When my second glass of whiskey is finished, I pick up my phone and look for Charles Hendrick’s number in my contacts list. I take a deep breath, ignore the knot in my stomach that didn’t get any smaller with the addition of the alcohol in my system, and ring the number.

It takes a long time for Hendricks to answer, so long I expect to be sent to his voicemail when he answers gruffly.

“Yes?”

“Mr. Hendricks, it’s Wes Wagner speaking.”

“Yes, son, what is it?” he asks. He sounds like he’s in a hurry.

“I won’t talk long, I hear you’re busy. Could I meet with you? There are a few things I would like to discuss.”

Hendricks sighs heavily. “I’m in the middle of a media frenzy now, Wesley. When something happens within the company, it comes right back to me, and I have to deal with it.”

I swallow hard. Of course, he knows everything that’s happening. I don’t know how he feels about it. He sounds blunt, but it could be that he’s busy just as much as it could mean that I’m his least favorite person right now.

“Let me get this sorted out,” he says again. “I’ll give you a call later in the week, and we can make some time to talk.”

When he hangs up, I’m a little more positive. Hendricks is a tough old man with business savvy, and he doesn’t care what anyone thinks of him. The combination makes him invincible. If he’s willing to see me – no matter how upset he is with what I’ve done and what’s happening to his company – it can’t be that bad, can it? Besides, he’s one to talk about fraternizing.

Maybe I will be able to make things right, get Kylie her job back, do something good for a change. I don’t know if Hendricks will remember to call me back or if he will be in the mood to do so once the media frenzy, as he calls it, dies down. I honestly hope so.

I really need to be able to call in all the favors I have access to because of my position and my class.

Kylie was right when she said I had money to fall back on and I will use it to my advantage in this situation if I can.

When I walk back to the bar to pour more whiskey my stomach turns, and I feel even sicker than before. I’m worried Hendricks won’t be able to help me. I know that I might not be able to get my own job back. I don’t even want to know what my dad will say to me when he catches wind of this.

Wesley Wagner Senior is a piece of work. He’s hard as nails, and I’ve had a tough time stepping up to his expectation of me. I know I’m going to get more than an earful about all of this when I see him again.

Honestly, I don’t care. All I care about is making everything right for Kylie again. Even if she decides that she doesn’t want to see me again, I want her to be okay. She means something to me. In the short time, I’ve gotten to know her a little bit, and we’ve gotten as close as we were because of us fucking so often, I’ve become attached to her.

I want her to succeed. I want her to be happy. And I feel terrible that she’s not getting either of those things because of me. I don’t want that for her. I want her to have a good life. So, I will do anything I can to make this right.

I realize I miss her. I just saw her and not nearly enough time has passed to make it rational, but I miss her. I want to see her again. I want to be with her again. She’s the kind of woman I want to spend my time with, even if we don’t end up in bed together.

She’s the kind of woman that would make a man very happy. And I want that. I don’t want someone else to have her. I want her to myself.

But that doesn’t make sense, does it? I can’t be the one to walk this road again, to feel like this about a woman. After what Marisa did.

But Kylie isn’t Marisa. And she’s isn’t any other women, either. She’s Kylie, and that’s all she needs to be for me to… I pause mid-pour. For me to what? For me to be in love with her?

When the realization hits me, I nearly stagger.

I’m in love with her.

Oh, my God.