"Oh my God," Aaron whispers.
Molly slides her seat over to me. "Holy shit, what happened?"
"I have no idea," I murmur as my eyes go to the ceiling. Where are the cameras?
I think back to what angle I saw on his screen, and I look in that direction and see it. A small black glass dome. I glare at it, and I know he's watching me.
I can feel his eyes on my skin. What's he thinking about as he watches me?
An unwelcome wave of excitement rushes through me as I imagine him up there, hard and watching me.
I feel like taking off my clothes and lying back on my desk and opening my legs to give him something to really look at. Can he hear what we're saying? Is there audio on that thing?
"What happened?" Aaron whispers.
"I can't talk now. There are cameras," I murmur with my head down. "But we need to have some seriously strong drinks after work."
"Jesus," Molly whispers as she turns back to her computer.
"Stupid fucking Ricardo," Ava huffs. "He's going to get us all fired. Why didn't he get hauled into the damn office?"
"I know." I open my email and stare at it for a moment as I try to calm myself down.
I know exactly why. Because Jameson Miles doesn't want to fuck Ricardo—he wants to fuck me.
I bite my bottom lip to keep my slutty smile from escaping onto my face.
New York is so fun.
It's five thirty, and we've just left work and are standing on the curb outside the Miles Media building while we decide where to go for dinner. It's the weirdest thing; it's as if along with this job, I was gifted three friends and unlimited options. Every night is Saturday night in New York.
We're all different ages, with different lifestyles, but somehow we get along famously. Ava has a date and isn't coming with us, but Aaron and Molly are by my side.
"What do you feel like eating?" Molly says as she scrolls through her phone.
"Something fattening and greasy. Paul hasn't called me." Aaron sighs. "I'm off him."
"Oh God, will you dump him already?" Molly huffs with an eye roll. "I swear he's seeing someone else on the side, and besides, he's nowhere near hot enough for you."
The front door of the building is opened by a man in a black suit, and the three of us turn. Jameson Miles walks out with another man. The two of them are deep in conversation and oblivious to anyone else.
"Who's that with him?" I whisper.
"That's one of his brothers, Tristan Miles. He's in charge of global acquisitions," Aaron whispers as his eyes stay glued to them. "I swear to God, these men are so fucking hot it's unbearable."
They have this charismatic air about them, their stances the epitome of power.
Everyone around them stops and stares.
Fitted expensive suits, handsome as all hell, cultured, and wealthy.
I swallow the lump in my throat as I watch in silence.
In slow motion, they walk out and get into the back of the waiting black limousine. The driver shuts the door behind them, and we watch as it drives away.
I turn to my new friends. "I really need to talk to somebody."
"About what?" Aaron frowns.
"Can you two keep a secret?" I whisper.
They exchange looks. "Yeah, of course we can."
"Let's get to the bar." I sigh as I link my arms through theirs and begin to drag them to cross the road. "You're not going to believe what I have to tell you."
Molly arrives with our drinks on a tray and drops into her seat. "So go. Did he give you a warning letter?"
I sip my margarita. "Hmm, this is good." I frown as I inspect the icy yellow fluid.
Aaron sips his. "Ew, I hate this bartender." He winces.
"Will you stop whining?" Molly snaps. "It's like hanging out with my fucking kids."
"This drink is too strong," he chokes. "I notice you didn't get one."
Molly's attention comes back to me. "Anyway, what's this secret?"
I stare at them. God, I don't even know if I should be saying anything to anyone, but I need someone to talk to.
"Promise me you won't say anything to anyone. Not even Ava," I ask.
"Yes." They both roll their eyes.
"Okay," I continue. "You know how I told you I have been trying to get a job at Miles Media for over three years?"
"Uh-huh."
"Well, just over twelve months ago I went to a wedding in London, and I was flying directly back to New York for an interview here."
Aaron frowns as he concentrates on my story.
"At the airport in London, this fruitcake man behind me in the line was having some kind of episode and started throwing my bag around."
They both stare at me, confused.
"Anyway, the security guard ushered me to the check-in counter and told the guy to look after me. I was given an upgrade to first class."
"How cool." Aaron smiles and raises his drink happily.
I brace myself for the next part of the story. "I was seated next to this man, and we began drinking champagne and . . ." I shrug. "The more we drank, the more inappropriate we got, and we began talking about our sex lives."
"Did you get kicked off the plane?" Aaron says, with wide eyes.
"No." I sip my drink. "Could have easily, though."
Aaron puts his hand to his chest in relief.
"Then there was a blizzard in New York, and we had to fly on to Boston for an overnight layover. This guy was like . . . ridiculously hot." I smile as I remember him. "He was so not my type, and I wasn't his, but somehow we ended up fucking like rabbits all night long. It was the best sex I've ever had in my life."
"I love this story." Molly smiles. "Go you."
"I never saw him again."
Her face falls. "He didn't call?"
"He never asked for my number."
"Ouch." Aaron winces.
"I know; so you can imagine my horror when I saw him at work this week."
"What?" they both gasp.
"Oh my God, it's fucking Ricardo, isn't it?" Aaron frowns as he takes a big mouthful of his drink. "I can't handle this story. Please don't tell me you fucked him, and he gave you an STD. I won't be able to cope."
"It was Jameson Miles."
Molly's eyes nearly bulge from her head. "What?"
"Are you fucking kidding me?" Aaron gasps and accidentally snorts his drink up his nose and has a coughing fit.
They both stare at me, wide eyed.
"When I went to his office on the tour, he asked to be left alone with me."
Molly shakes her head. "Is this real?"
I nod.
"I have no words for this story," she whispers.
"I do—oh my fucking God." Aaron hits her on the arm in excitement. "What happened?"
"He asked me out to dinner."
"What the actual fuck?" Molly cries really loud.
"Shh," I whisper as I look at the people around us. "Keep your voice down."
"Are you serious?" she whispers.
"I said no."
"What?" Aaron cries this time.
"Keep. Your. Voice. Down," I demand. "I can't go out with him. I have a boyfriend."
"Your boyfriend's a dick. You even said so yourself," Molly stammers.
"I know, but I'm not wired like that. I would never cheat on somebody."
Aaron shakes his head. "Jameson Miles could wire me any way he wanted to."
"Right?" Molly agrees. "What happened today?"
"He marched me up to his office and accused me of getting hit on in my working time."
Their mouths fall open in horror.
"And . . ." I pause. I probably shouldn't tell them we are being watched. I'll keep that one to myself. I dig out his card from my wallet and slide it across the table, and Molly picks it up and stares at it. "Even his name is hot." She reads the card out loud. "Jameson Miles. Miles Media. 212-639-8999."
"I told him he couldn't have everything he wanted, and he said he does, and then he licked my neck," I blurt out.
"He licked your neck?" Aaron shrieks. "Oh Lord have mercy." He picks up the menu and begins to fan his face. "Please tell me you're going out with him tonight."
"No." I shrug. "I can't, and besides, it's the fastest way I know how to get fired."
"No job is that good," Aaron snaps. "I wouldn't turn him down to be the fucking president."
We all giggle, and then my phone vibrates across the table.
"Oh . . . my fucking God," Molly whispers as she stares at my phone. "It's him."
"What?" I stammer as I look down at the number lighting up the screen.
She holds up the business card in her hands, and we compare them.
"The number calling you is fucking him."
My eyes widen. Holy shit.
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