“Raunchy Account of Seduction in the Workplace by Heath Anders’ Ex-Assistant.”

I run my fingers through my hair as I stare at the title of the blog post on my big computer monitor—all the better to see my problem with.

The Internet is abuzz with activity, and TV stations, too. Soon, the magazines will catch up when they release their latest editions.

I just wonder what their headlines will be. How bad will they get?

The winner for the worst title ever goes to Exposé, a celebrity gossip TV show. The winning title: “Sexual Harassment Alive and Well in Wall Street.”

Yeah, I know it’s not as stupid as some of the other ones. It sounds serious and shit. That’s exactly why it’s the worst.

If a gossip show can come up with a title like that, I’m screwed as soon as mainstream newspapers get a sniff of this.

“Heath, we need to make a decision,” Angela says. She’s a veteran PR executive, who has handled multiple crises before. She looks tense, which is probably not a good sign. “If we stay quiet, it’ll be taken as an admission of guilt. It’ll look like you have something to hide.”

“I don’t know what else these people have on me, Angela. I swear I’m innocent, but they may have some dirt on me that they can use to hurt my reputation and credibility.”

Normally, I like my office. But today it feels like the walls are closing in on me, even though this place is just the same as ever.

“If you’re innocent, it’s best to come clean,” she says, across the desk from me. “Be honest and just put a positive spin on things. Have the girl make a statement that there’s no sexual harassment going on, and everything will go back to normal.”

“No,” I say swiftly. “I’m not having her make any statement, or show up in any way on the media.”

“Why? Because she may have a different story than you?” Angela asks, narrowing her eyes at me.

“Jesus, Angela.” I can’t believe this. “How long have you been working for me? Have you ever seen me make someone do something against their will?”

“So you’re saying it’s all consensual?” Angela asks. “If it is, you have nothing to worry about. But like I said, the girl will have to make an appearance. Because otherwise, you’ll only have your own words to back you up. And in my experience? The words of men accused of sexual crimes don’t mean anything to the public.”

I see her point.

On the other hand, she’s asking the impossible of me. I can’t parade Kat in front of the cameras just so strangers won’t blame me for any crime they imagine to have taken place.

Firstly, she’s on bed rest.

And secondly, I promised to maintain her anonymity in our contract. Things are dramatically different now that we’re together for real, but I want to do that for her.

I want her to remain in the shadows, at least until after she publishes her first book and it becomes wildly successful—which I have no doubt will happen. I know how important it is to her that she’s not just known as my girlfriend, or even the mother of my child.

No, she doesn’t want people reading her book and guessing which aspects of the story have been taken from her real life. She wants her story to stand on its own merit. She wants people to pick up her book and judge it by its artistic value—not its association with public figures.

“Heath,” Angela says, reminding me again that I need to make a decision, “the clock is ticking. The longer it takes for us to issue a statement, the more suspicious it looks.”

I clasp my hands together and turn to look at Angela. “Tell them to mind their own fucking business. I’m not making her face the media for me.”

“Okay. So we can say something like… we request them to honor your privacy. Maybe also mention the fact that these rumors stem from hearsay. All they have is whatever Jeff’s telling them.”

My blood boils at the sound of that name. “I swear, if I ever see that guy again—”

“And this is why I’ll be facing the media on my own,” Angela says. “You need to stay calm, Heath. You’re usually good at that.”

That’s probably because my problems usually don’t involve Kat.

Even on days when I’ve made multi-million-dollar mistakes, it doesn’t touch me—not really. I already have more than enough money to last me the rest of my life. Losses like that don’t bother me.

But if anyone hurts Kat, I’ll use everything in my power to make that person’s life a living hell.

Something buzzes on my desk, and I sit bolt upright as the screen of my high-priority phone lights up.

It’s Kat. She wouldn’t have called this number if this weren’t important.

She fucking knows.

“Excuse me,” I say to Angela before I pick up the phone. “Hello.”

“Heath, what’s going on?” Kat asks in a panicked voice.

“There’s nothing to worry about,” I say gently. “I’ve got everything under control.”

“Do you?” Kat asks. “It doesn’t look like it. I saw you trying to get through the crowd on TV.”

“That was a normal after-lunch crowd for me,” I lie. I only get that kind of attention when something big happens.

“Yeah, right. I used to be your personal assistant, Heath. Tell me the truth.”

“Everything’s under control, Kat. That’s the truth.”

Kat remains quiet for a few seconds before she says, “I should say something.”

“What?”

“Not to you. I mean I should say something to the media.”

“Absolutely not,” I say. “You’re on bed rest.”

I notice movements in my peripheral vision, and I realize Angela has been waving her arms, trying to get my attention. She’s pointing urgently at the TV screen across the room from us. Jeff’s saying something.

“But Heath—”

“If that’s all, I need to go so I can actually handle this crisis,” I say. “Sorry, kitten. I’ll see you at home. Just turn off the TV and take a nap, okay?”

I hang up the phone, then I watch helplessly as Jeff tells them everything—Kat’s full name, as well as the contract. Yes, that contract. The one with all the sordid details of our arrangement, including how much sex is involved.

Everybody’s going to see this and know Kat’s name. My mind flies back to that day when Jeff went berserk in my office. He said he was going to save Kat from my evil clutches, and now I guess he’s decided her safety is more important than her anonymity.

And worse than that, my parents will see this and think Kat and I have been trying to deceive them.

“Fuck,” I say, almost at the same time as Angela.