I stare at my phone and go over the message in my head. Andy wants to meet with me again. Her message said we needed to talk before the press statement.

She met with the board today.

My hand shakes slightly as I delete the message, and my eyes travel over the hundred or so messages I’ve ignored over the last few days. I won’t be able to put off Riley or Mom much longer. The rest of my friends, maybe, but not family. I’ve only spoken with a few friends, those I thought would be understanding and supportive. Boy, was I wrong. I’m the laughing stock of L.A. Even my own friends can’t help themselves from cracking jokes at my expense.

I can’t deal with more of that right now. Not when my job is on the line.

Assholes.

The board has the final word on everything at the network. Andy may be in charge, but they’re the ones who put her in that position. They can overrule her if they really want to, which means I may be going in to get canned…again. I would like to think she wouldn’t drag it out and would just tell me, but that’s not something you do in a message.

I return my phone to its charger and wander into the bathroom to get ready for the meeting. Almost as soon as I flip on the shower, steam begins to form on the mirror.

With a sigh, I swipe it away and examine myself to check out the damage to my face. Surprisingly, I haven't gotten black eyes or bruising at all from the broken nose, and the swelling has all but disappeared. I don't know what gods smiled upon me with that; they certainly haven't been involved in anything else that happened the last couple days.

If I get one more call from a friend or family member wanting to talk about what happened, I may move to the wilderness and become a lumberjack just to get away from it. Or at the very least, return to the bowels of the museum to work in peace and obscurity.

Yes, it happened.

Yes, it was embarrassing.

Yes, I want to crawl into the cave.

And no, I don't want to talk about it…ever.

If I have to repeat those words one more time, I don't think I can handle it. At least if I was filming or working, things would be a little bit better. I’d have something to occupy my mind, but instead, I'm just sitting here waiting for another two weeks before I’m back in front of the camera.

Maybe I can ask Andy to tell the producers that since it looks like I'm not going to bruise, we can resume taping right away. That is…if I still have a job.

The fact that she just met with the board and also wants to meet with me again does not sit well. Those old codgers are known for having sticks up their asses.

Having my dick on full display probably did not endear me to them.

I guess I’ll find out after my shower.

The hot water does nothing to release the tension in my shoulders or my gut. And it’s not just because I might lose my job; it's that woman.

She is sex on a stick. There’s just something about a powerful woman who takes control and knows what she wants that does something to me, and Andy is precisely all those things.

The other day, she took command of the room the second I stepped in it and wasn't afraid to be direct until she thought I might sue her. I chuckle at the slip of her tongue.

Christ, the way she blushed was adorable.

The pink slowly spreading up her chest and over her neck and cheeks.

I want her to blush like that for me, because I’m between her legs and driving her insane. My cock hardens at the image. At least I didn’t break it in this fiasco.

Taking my aching cock in my hand, I flatten the other against the tile wall of the shower and picture Andy. She’s a force in the office, and I’m sure she’s the same in the bedroom.

Licking and sucking my dick.

Swallowing me down.

It doesn’t take long for my strokes to turn frantic, and when I come, jets shooting across the tile, I have to remind myself to breathe.

Holy hell, that woman can do that to me without even touching me.

If she were here for real, I wouldn’t last two seconds. But at least it’s out of my system for when I meet with her. There’s nothing more embarrassing than walking into a meeting with your boss with a raging boner, except maybe having your junk broadcast on national television.

Been there. Done that.

I don’t need any embarrassing repeats. The hard-on I got during our last meeting was incredibly inappropriate, and I don’t need her seeing that and thinking I’m some sex-crazed pervert.

Even if she wanted it too, it can never happen between us anyway. She’s off-limits. She’s the boss. She’s also intimidating as hell. She would probably swallow me whole after sex, like some sort of deranged praying mantis.

Why is that so fucking hot, though?

This scandal requires me to lay low for a while. Getting involved with the boss would be the opposite of that. Besides, I don’t want her going to bat for me for the wrong reasons. The outcome would be both of our asses in a sling.