I manage to unlock myself from Weston’s office, which I thought would be the most embarrassing thing to happen to me today. God, was I wrong.

As soon as I exit his office I see Jen, the receptionist. She shuffles away and goes to Rachel’s desk as if that’s what she was there for all along.

“So, yeah, that’s great, send it to me and I’ll make sure he gets it,” she says to Rachel, her eyes darting at me. “Or, um, here are the papers he wanted. You want me to give them to him or…?”

Rachel, who is clicking away at her computer, tells Jen to just set the papers on her desk and she’ll take them to Mr. Bridges in a moment.

“You sure?” Jen asks, her eyes darting to me. “It would really suck if he didn’t get them now. He might come over to my desk and really ream for me not giving him what he wants. Oh, hey, Mia,” she says, finally looking at me as if she just noticed me. “Looks like you were able to snatch some time with Mr. Bridges. What’s he doing now—having a smoke?”

“What? No,” I say, my face turning hot. “He was just telling me about my first assignment.”

“Telling or showing?”

“Excuse me?” I say, horrified at what she’s not very subtlety implying.

“You look a little flushed, Mia. Are you okay? Getting sick?”

“God, if you are stay away from me,” Rachel says, not looking away from her computer. “Go drink some orange juice or something.”

“Or something,” Jen says. “She looks like she’s already had her fill.”

I’m feeling super rattled and I just want to get away from these girls.

“He’s in there if you need anything,” I say, walking past them.

“Yeah,” Jen says, a devious little laugh in her voice. “I heard.”

Oh my god. Oh my god. She heard. She knows. Shit, what am I going to do?

Not stay here, that’s for sure.

With my bag in hand I rush to the elevators and punch the button. I just need some fresh air. Or New York City air, whatever I can get.

As the elevator whisks me to the lobby I think, What did I just do? I walk at a quick pace down the street with no direction or idea of where I’m going.

Holy crap. What did I just do…with my new boss? What the hell was I thinking? I wasn’t, that’s the problem. Weston is just so…everything he does is sexy. He makes checking email look sexy. But I should know better. Getting involved, like that, with my new boss should have been a no-brainer.

I can’t believe the things he did to me. No man has ever done those things to my body…and I’ve never done those things to a guy. Oh my god, I can’t believe I did all that. And right in the middle of his office. I look up at the buildings. Could anyone in a nearby building see into his office? Did someone see me? Take video of us? Jesus.

And Jen. What the hell was up with her? The way she was talking and looking at me. She had to know. There’s no way she didn’t, not with the way she was talking. I tried so hard not to make a sound when I was with Weston but it was really hard. He made my body feel like it was on fire, like I was having some sort of epic, almost out-of-body experience. But had I made noises? Embarrassing, yes, but if she or anyone heard me embarrassment would be the least of my problems.

I just can’t believe I somehow landed my dream job—writer at a top magazine—and on day one I may have royally screwed it up. I risked everything for a guy who couldn’t even look at me once I’d put my clothes back on.

My stupidity knows no bounds. Weston was only using me. I was thinking we had some sort of connection that maybe went beyond physical. There was an energy between us that I’d never felt before. But then again, I’d never felt a dick in my mouth and it doesn’t exactly add up to love. The only energy between us was good old-fashioned horniness. Weston wanted to get off with someone inexperienced so he could dominate me. It doesn’t matter that I liked it. The point is, he used me, and I’m a fool for letting it happen.

I go into a coffee shop to try to clear my head and figure out what to do. I sit at the counter and order hot tea and a muffin when I see Weston right next to me.

His face is huge on the cover of a discarded newspaper. He’s smiling and looking dapper in a suit. Playboy Billionaire Owns the Waves the headline reads. Beneath that it says, “It’s His Prerogative…to Make Media Sexy.”

No one can accuse Weston Bridges of playing it safe. The twenty-eight year old former farm boy has taken over Prerogative Media, one of the country’s biggest conglomerates, with television stations, book publishers, and magazines under its very large umbrella. It’s a move that is sure to affect the way we communicate and seek information, but Mr. Bridges assures us it’ll all be for the best.

“There’s nothing sexier than knowledge and information,” he says, his signature smile dancing delightfully on his tanned face. “My plan is to take what was already great about Prerogative—their management, distribution—and ramp up the volume. This was once the gold standard of media, and I intend to put it back on the mantle where it belongs.”

If only he can concentrate on spreadsheets and projections and not on international yacht trips and supermodel stunners—something Mr. Bridges is better known for at this point in his career, aside from his seemingly endless piles of money.

“There are three things Wes Bridges loves,” says Merrill, a former girlfriend. “Money, power and women. Anything else just bores him.”

Another leggy beauty echoes those sentiments. “He’s very generous with his…”

I push the paper away. I can’t read anymore. I’m just another one of his women, a score. I can’t believe I was so naïve. And now my job…

How can I ever go back there again? I’d have to be a masochist to walk back through those halls again. Jen. What does she know? It’s driving me crazy, wondering if she heard us or if I’m just, well, being crazy.

My phone pings a text. My heart races when I see it’s from him.

Where are you?

It’s curt so I can’t tell if he’s worried or annoyed or just curious. I sit staring at it for a moment, trying to decide what to do. I look back at his face on the cover of the paper he now owns.

Looking for you, he texts. Can’t find you.

God, what if he asked Jen if she knows where I am? What if Jen told Rachel that she heard us in his office? And what if Rachel then told someone else, who told someone else…

I write him back, deciding to just be honest.

Sitting in coffee shop humiliated.

?

Pretty sure Jen overheard us at the door to your office. No way can I go back there.

Get over it, he writes back, and I’m taken aback by how swift he is. Doesn’t he care that someone in the office probably overheard us? Doesn’t he have any shame? You have work to do. Calm down. Come back.

I take a bite of my muffin. It’s dry and heavy. I take a sip of tea to wash it down but that’s gone cold. Knowing the muffin will fill me up later when my stomach has settled down, I ask the waitress for a box to take it home. Maybe if I nuke it then slather it in butter it’ll make it edible. If I ever eat again.

I know I don’t have it in me to go back to that office and face Jen and anyone else who may know by now what I did. Or even face Weston. God, what were we thinking? It was the sexiest encounter of my life but now it’s nothing more than a new hire’s skank move. The entire office will know by the end of the day—and Weston wants me to just calm down?

I hold my phone and think of my words carefully. I just need to get it out and get it over with. Tomorrow, once again, I’ll regroup.

Can’t, I write.

You’re overthinking this. I left some articles on your desk that suit the tone I want you to use in your piece.

It’s not just Jen, I write. It’s you too. How I feel when I’m around you.

What does that mean?

But I can’t tell him. Not even through text messages. He makes me feel like I’m losing my head. He makes me feel sexy. He intimidates me but he makes me feel like I want to please him more than anything in the world. More than starting my career in publishing.

So I can’t go back there. For that and so many other reasons.

Thank you for the opportunity, I write. I really appreciate it, and I’m sorry it didn’t work out.

I hit send then turn my phone off. I take my muffin and head back to the apartment. Still unemployed and broke.