A slight drizzle begins to trickle outside of my car window as I sit sullenly in the back seat and watch the water droplets gently make their way down, just like the tears I’m holding inside.

Yeah, I know I’m being fucking melancholy; you don’t have to point that shit out to me.

I’m also fucking mad as a hornet.

I’m directing most of this anger at myself more than at Owen. I should know better than to get involved with a guy like that. All guys are the same, but when they’re rich and successful? Magnify that cocky arrogance by like…a million.

I should have known.

We arrive at my office, and the driver puts the flashers on while he runs around the passenger side seat to let me out of the back seat. He opens the door for me and holds up an umbrella.

“Here you go, miss, watch out for that puddle, and please try not to slip.” He gives me a smile and his eyes flash with genuine concern.

If only I could get Owen to care about me like that. Real and genuine. Not some act because he has an ulterior motive. I’m regretful and pouty. Wallowing in self-pity. I should really fucking snap out of it right now.

“Ma’am?” I hear my driver call back to me.

I spin around. “Yeah?”

“Do you want me to pick you up again after business hours?” he asks.

“Yes,” I respond.

I know I’m staring at him blankly, like I’m a fucking space cadet. It’s almost as if I can’t focus on one person or one thing in particular, and I’m just grasping at straws to even put one foot in front of the other.

I shake out my umbrella and push it back down before heading inside the lobby. I hate wet days like this, but as I glance back outside the double doors leading to the street, I notice that the rain is starting to pick up.

I watch as people try to dart around it and run from being completely pelted and soaked.

At least I made it inside before the downpour hit.

See, there’s a silver lining in everything. I can be optimistic when I want to be.

I ride the elevator up to my floor, and when I step out, I force myself into the mindset that I’m going to go about my daily routine and everything will be business as usual.

I’ll try to fucking forget about that prick Owen Wolfe. No wonder his corporation has the name ‘Lone Wolfe.’ No respectable female would dare settle down with the likes of him. I’m a fucking idiot.

I plop down at my desk chair and turn on my computer while I sip the latte I picked up on the way in.

I sigh and stare at the screen as if I’m looking for answers that it obviously can’t give me because it’s a damn computer.

“Good morning!”

I glance up to see Katrina’s bright and bubbly face staring at me as if nothing is out of the ordinary.

Of course, to her everything is normal because I keep my romantic life private and she has no reason to suspect I’m sinking into a dark abyss of sadness.

I know I’m being melodramatic right now, but I have the right to be fucking pissed, okay?

“Hi, Katrina.” I give her a polite smile and prop my elbows up on top of the desk expectantly. “What do you have for me today?”

“Well…” she begins but I interrupt her.

“Let’s’ just start with this morning,” I joke. I can’t handle the rundown for an entire day until all the coffee in my cup is running through my veins.

“Okay.” She nods enthusiastically and bounces on her heel. “You have a meeting with potential investors in thirty minutes,” she begins, looking at her iPod.

Yes, that’s right―we’re high tech around here. Katrina has a smart device instead of a note pad and a pen.

“I’ll get ready for that.” I nod and take a deep breath. Oh yeah, by the way, I’ll be nowhere fucking ready for that.

“You have a lunch date with one of the clients who does interviews for the talent,” Katrina mentions.

“Alright.” I rub my temples. “I think that’s enough for right now.” I look up at her and smile.

Katrina types something into the iPad then moves her head up again. “Do you need anything else from me right now?”

“I don’t think so.” I shrug and force a smile.

Katrina lets herself out.

“Oh, Katrina?” I call before she’s completely out of sight.

“Yes?” She turns around.

“Will you please close my office door behind you?”

“Sure thing,” she says and then leaves me in privacy to wallow in my own despair.

I take a glance around the room. I have a sad little fern plant in the corner by the window. It’s apparent that it hasn’t been watered in a long time.

Its leaves are droopy and dry, much like my spirit.

I’m back to my usual, boring self and her monotonous routine after all. So much for living on the edge. Look where it fucking got me.

Meanwhile my father is probably sitting in his mansion-slash-palace. I picture him sitting in his study with a brandy in his hand and the morning paper.

Yes, a brandy this early.

My brother Harry is probably playing golf in some rich county club, not even thinking about work, while I sit here and do all the hard shit, keeping this company afloat.

Nobody fucking cares, so why should I?

I regret taking the risk with Owen. It only backfired in my face. You know what they say, hindsight is twenty/twenty, right?

I’m just going to have to learn the hard way and take what I know and apply it to my life from now on.

I mean, am I really that stupid to fall for his manipulating qualities?

Wait a second, don’t answer that.

Then out of nowhere, an idea comes to me. I pick up my office phone and dial the Expose Club. A bored-sounding girl answers the phone.

“Hi, I need to speak to the club manager,” I state assertively.

“Hang on,” the girl drones, and I hear elevator music fill my eardrums as she transfers the call and places me on hold.

A few seconds later, I hear his voice come on the line. “Jay Fletcher.” His voice sounds impatient, like he might be in the middle of something.

“Hi, Jay, it’s Molly Quinn.”

Jay clears his throat. “Oh, hey, Molly, what’s up?”

I should probably mention here that Jay and I are on a first name basis with each other because we have to work hand in hand a great deal.

“I’m calling about Owen Wolfe,” I say.

“Oh, right.” Jay’s voice immediately cuts to an apologetic tone, which I ignore.

I’m going to keep this short and fucking sweet.

“It’s come to my attention that he is suspended from the club right now,” I begin.

“You’re correct,” Jay coughs.

I don’t elaborate on how I know this information, and Jay doesn’t press me.

“I need you to go ahead and lift that suspension,” I say firmly, knowing that Jay will want to keep my father happy, and he’ll be willing to comply for that reason alone.

“Okay, sure…” Jay says apprehensively. “Any particular reason why?”

“Nope,” I chime in a high voice. “Thanks for your help, Jay. Please notify Owen at once that he’s reinstated,” I say abruptly, and hang up before he can ask me any further questions about it.

I sigh and place my head in my hands. Well, at least one of us will be happy.