Page 29 of Mid-Thirties Slightly Hot Mess Female Seeking Billionaire

"I do not believe that she posted that on the company intranet. Is she out of her mind?"

"Are you upset because she said she hates her job and she has a boss that makes her want to jump off a cliff, or because she posted this?"

"I very much doubt she’s talking about me." I pause. "Do you think she’s talking about me?"

"I don’t know, but possibly."

"You know what? I have to go," I say and hang up before he can answer. I bring up the company intranet and look at the message myself. I cannot believe that Sarah has posted this. I cannot believe she said she hates her job after I asked her to create a jingle. I’ve given her an amazing opportunity, and this is what she says?

I press my lips together. I want to find out her phone number, call her, and tell her off, but I know it is way too early to do such a thing. Instead, I log in to the HR files to find her company email address and send her a message.

Sarah, this is your boss, Ethan Rosser. We won’t be able to meet tomorrow, but I would like to see you in my office first-thing Monday morning. Do not be late.

11

Sarah

Dear Diary,

I’m dead.

Seriously.

I cannot say more as my head is buried in the sand.

Shameful and Saddened Sarah

I wake up with a massive hangover and swear that I am never going to drink again.

I rub my pounding temples and let out a moan as Johnson jumps onto the bed to lick my face.

"It’s moments like this that I wish I still lived at home," I whisper into the room. "Johnson, can you go and make me some eggs and a coffee?"

He just sits there and looks at me, batting his long eyelashes. I know he wants to go on a walk. There’s no way that’s happening right now though. I don’t even think I can get out of bed.

"Oh, my head, how much did I drink last night?" I mumble as I think back to the night before, and memories come flooding in. Meeting up with Ella, hanging out with Isabel, dancing in the small little bar we’d gone to, drinking tequila shot after tequila shot, and then pitchers of sangria. We’d really gone to town. We’d been celebrating Ella’s return to New York City, but maybe we’d gone a little bit hard for a weekday, especially considering the fact that I have an appointment with Ethan Rosser this morning.

My heart beats erratically as I think about him. Maybe he and I can be friends in some form of the word. I mean, I know we won’t befriendsfriends. I am not on his level. He’s my boss, and I know I can’t hope for more. Sure, he kind of flirted with me, maybe, but there’s a no-fraternization policy at the company that he instituted, and he made it pretty clear that there are thousands of women after him. And if there are thousands of women after him, he won’t think twice about me.

My head feels like a hammer is banging against my skull, and I groan. "Oh, man, I don’t feel good," I say as I try to sit up. I know I need to make some greasy eggs and drink plenty of water. "If I had a boyfriend or a husband, he could get them for me right now," I mumble, but that doesn’t make me feel better because I have neither a boyfriend nor a husband. I’ve no potential ones on the horizon, either.

"Maybe one day I’ll find myself a millionaire," I say, and then I freeze as I remember other things from the previous night.

"Wait, did I write a personal ad?" I groan, wondering if that’s true. "Mid-thirties, slightly hot mess female seeking billionaire," I say out of repetition, and I groan. "I am going to kill Ella and I’m going to kill Isabel," I say. "I can’t believe they had me writing that stupidness. I hope I didn’t put it on a dating site anywhere." I reach over for my phone to see if I had posted it anywhere.

My heart immediately starts racing when I see a message from Ethan Rosser that had come in in the early hours of the morning. For a moment, I feel like maybe it’s a drunk message. Maybe he’s flirting with me. Maybe he does like me and wants to let me know that he’s interested. Maybe he’s even been trying to butt-dial me or was trying to get me to come over for a late-night booty call. I smile suddenly at the thought. I totally would have gone.

"That wouldn’t even be a flattering message, Sarah," I chastise myself as I open the email. I don’t know why I feel excited that he could be inviting me over for a late-night lovemaking session.

My heart drops immediately when I read what he has to say and the fact that he wants to see me on Monday. My jaw drops as he posts sentences from my personal ad. The private one that we’d messed around making last night.

"Ms. Kahan, please inform me as to why this was posted on the company intranet."

The words make my heart stop. What the hell is going on?

The fact that my personal ad, which was written as a joke, that was not meant to be seen by anyone, had likely been seen by everyone at Rosser International who logged in to the intranet, including Ethan, makes me want to curl up and die. How had my dumb ass posted it there? Then, I remember clicking on Dave’s email and link and Isabel taking my phone and typing it up. She must have posted it by mistake.

"I hate you, sangria," I wail, thinking I’m about to pass out, throw up, or maybe both. That would just be my luck. I’d throw up and then pass out and wake up in my own puke. How disgusting, but maybe I deserve it.

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