I was actually relieved when I saw that my office was about average-sized. It wasn't as big as some of the ones I'd passed coming in, but it wasn't tiny either. I'd been afraid I was going to end up in this massive corner office and really piss some people off. I was there to work, but I hoped I'd at least make a couple friends, like I'd done at Webster and Steinberg. I already felt like I didn't deserve the job. I didn't need anything else to make me stand out.

Once the relief passed, I was able to sit behind my desk and appreciate everything. The décor was modern like the rest of the building – with the exception of DeVon's office. The office chair I sat on was comfortable enough that I knew it cost more than I'd made in a month in New York. The two chairs on the other side of the desk looked just as expensive. There were no paintings or anything on the walls and I made a mental note to try to find something to make it feel more personable in here. The outside wall and front wall were glass, and I supposed that was a good thing. I knew people were probably going to be talking about me. If DeVon came in to see me, at least there'd be no gossip about what we were doing behind my closed doors. I wondered how many of the women out there had experienced the same unique interviews I had.

I turned to my computer and pushed thoughts of DeVon and his women out of my head. I was here to work. I had to prove that I deserved this office instead of being downstairs among the cubicles with the rest of the legal department.

“Excuse me, Ms. Jensen?” A pretty, red-haired girl knocked on my open door.

“Yes?”

“Hi,” she said brightly. “I'm Tracy, your PA.”

I couldn't help but smile back. She reminded me a little of Leslie when we'd first met, fresh out of college, just turned twenty-one. “It's nice to meet you, Tracy, and please, call me Krissy.” If I was going to call DeVon by his first name, then Tracy could call me by mine.”

“Krissy, then.” Her smile widened and she came into the office. She was dressed in a cute dress that was the perfect combination of professional and fun. Definitely like Leslie.

“So, DeVon told me to help you get set up,” Tracy said.

I felt a pang of disappointment that I wasn't the only employee to use his first name, then I pushed it aside. I had to focus.

Tracy walked around the desk so that she was standing near my computer. Her tone changed to something more brisk and business-like as she turned on the computer. She handed me a slip of paper and, when the login screen came up, she punched in my user information. Passwords would change on a weekly basis and were all randomly generated so that no one could hack the system by guessing that you always used the name of your first crush. I listened carefully as she explained the various programs I would need to access and the uses for each. I'd never been the most computer-savvy of the people working at Webster and Steinberg, but I was smart enough to be able to memorize things.

“I also have these for you.” Tracy handed me two files I hadn't seen her bring in. “DeVon sent them to me at the end of last week and said that they're your first two clients.” She gave me another charming smile and then headed back out to her own desk.

I picked up the files with a combination of dread and relief. I'd had a hard time sleeping last night, thinking I'd be spending most of my day sitting around with nothing to do. I didn't handle downtime well. I was terrified I'd screw something up, but at least it was work.

I opened the first file and glanced at it, then did the same to the second. Both were female actresses who'd had several small appearances on television shows I didn't watch, but neither one was working now. I'd never seen either one before. I set down the second file and began to read the first more thoroughly.

I was halfway through when Tracy knocked again. “Unless the door's closed,” I said. “You don't have to knock.”

“Understood.” Tracy held out another file.

“More clients?” I wasn't sure why DeVon would be giving me another before I'd done anything with these.

Tracy shook her head. “No, this is the latest 'who's looking' list.”

“The what?” I hated looking ignorant, but better I get the information from my PA than risk looking like an idiot in front of some higher-up.

“It's a list of upcoming television and movie projects that are looking for talent, and it also has upcoming auditions.” The fact that Tracy answered me without any surprise that I didn't know told me that DeVon had told her about my inexperience in the field. I wasn't sure yet if that was a good thing or bad.

I glanced at the file. It made sense, I supposed. A big part of my job was probably matching my clients with suitable jobs.

“Oh, there's more,” Tracy said.

More? I watched Tracy walk out and pick up a huge box that had been sitting on the floor next to her desk.

“DeVon told me to give you this, too.”

“What is it?” I almost didn't want to know. The sheer size of the box was intimidating.

“Screenplays.” Tracy reached inside and pulled out a sheaf of paper. “Some might make it to a movie, most won't. The trick is to pick a winner. Find something that could work for one of our clients. More than one, if we're really lucky.”

I stood and peered into the box. It was full. It would take me months to read all of these. At least I didn't have to worry about being bored.

“By the way, we get a box like that every week.”

I looked up and Tracy was grinning at me, as if she knew I was currently asking myself what I'd gotten into.

“Let me know if there's anything you need.” Tracy went back out to her desk.

My eyes returned to the box and I took a deep breath. The best way to deal with a project that seemed overwhelming was to just do it. I began to unload the box, making neat piles on my desk, separating by genre.

I'd only been working for a couple minutes when someone knocked on my door. I raised my head to remind Tracy she didn't need to knock and saw a man standing in the doorway. He looked like he was at least ten to fifteen years older than me, which meant if he was like most of Hollywood, he was closer to twenty years older and had gotten work done.

“Sorry to disturb.” When he smiled, he flashed teeth far too white to be natural. “I'm your new neighbor.” He pointed at the office to the right of mine. “George Hamilton, no relation to the actor.” His laugh made me want to squirm, and not in a good way.

“Hi.” I forced a smile and walked over to him, holding out my hand. “I'm Krissy Jensen. So nice to meet you.”

“I have to ask,” he said. “There are a few of us who are very curious about something. In fact, we have a bet going and need you to settle it.”

I had a feeling I wasn't going to like where this was going.

He grinned at me with those obscenely white teeth. “What exactly did you have to do to land this job?”

“Excuse me?” My question was flat. He couldn't mean what I thought he meant.

“You know,” he said. “What 'favors' did you have to provide to get hired for this kind of position?”

The pleasant mask had slipped a bit and I could see in his eyes that he thought I was nothing more than a high-priced whore.

My mouth tightened and I could hear blood rushing in my ears. “You want to know if I had to do more than blow the boss to earn this?” I could tell my blunt question startled him. Most women probably got all embarrassed or defensive. I wasn't about to do either. I took a step towards him. “Is that what you're asking, George? You want the details, right? So you can get off picturing it later?”

That smile faltered and I saw a flash of anger.

“You want to know if I fucked him? Let him bend me over his desk? Take it up the ass? Use me like a whore?” I was just a few inches from him now and the scent of his cologne was almost overwhelming. “I don't suppose it ever occurred to you that a woman could be hired for more than a nice pair of tits and a tight ass.”

“I-I...” he stammered.

I didn't let him say anything else. “Don't worry. I'm not going to report you for sexual harassment. I don't need HR to send you to some sensitivity training. What I am going to do is make sure that you and the rest of the assholes who think I fucked my way into this job regret it, by making you all look completely worthless to this company.” I took a step back. “Now get the fuck out of my office. I'm sure you have some ass-kissing to do.”

It wasn't until he left that I felt my nails biting into my palms. My hands were actually shaking, I was so pissed. I'd been afraid this would happen, that people would assume I'd slept with DeVon for the job. That just made me want to work twice as hard to prove that I could not only do this but excel at it. I might've gone a bit too far with George, but I knew his type. He was the kind of guy who'd take embarrassment or outright denial as an admission of guilt because he didn't believe there was any way a woman could be hired because she was better for the job than he was.

I just hoped I was as good as I'd made myself out to be.

It took me a couple minutes to regain my composure as I finished sorting the files. I kept my eyes on my work, not wanting to look out and see if Tracy had heard the confrontation. I really didn't want to be labeled the company bitch. When I did risk a glance up, she was watching me and gave me a thumbs up. That was enough to tell me that most of the employees, at least the female ones, thought George was a dick too.

I'd just reached the bottom of the box when my phone rang. That was surprising, since I'd assumed my calls would come through Tracy. I picked it up.

“Krissy.”

My insides twisted at the way my name sounded coming from DeVon. I couldn't stop myself from wondering what it would sound like in bed, heated with passion.

“Yes?” I nearly squeaked and my face burned.

“I have a lunch with an executive from Universal Pictures and I'd like you join me.”

I knew it would piss off some people if I got to go to a business lunch with the boss and some big-wig from Universal, but it was too good of an opportunity to pass up. I wanted to succeed at this job now more than ever, just to prove to everyone that I could do it.

“Of course,” I said before I could second-guess it.

“Meet me at the restaurant ten minutes early so we can go over a few things. Tracy can give you the address and directions,” he said. “You do have a car, right?”

“No,” I admitted. “Not yet. I'm going to look for one this week. Until then, it's cabs.”

“You do know how to drive, right?”

“Of course.” I would've been annoyed at the question but I knew too many New Yorkers who'd never bothered to learn. Assuming that I'd know would've been rude.

“Take one of the company cars, then. Tell Tracy to get the keys for you.”

“Okay, Mr. Ric-I mean, DeVon. I'll see you there.”

I didn't get a response because the line was already dead. He hung up before I'd finished speaking.

Like I'd said before. Asshole.