Page 27 of Mid-Thirties Slightly Hot Mess Female Seeking Billionaire

"What are you saying? That I only date supermodels?"

"I’m not saying that. It just seems to be the case."

"I’d date Sarah," he says as if I want to hear that. "Do you know if she’s seeing anyone?"

"What? What are you talking about?" The tone in my voice is steel-like, and I can feel my shoulders tense.

"Oh, actually, I’m pretty sure that she’s not seeing someone." He laughs again. "Maybe she’ll be up for a date with me."

"Jackson, what is going on? Why are you interested in Sarah, and how’d you know she’s single?" I’m getting pissed off now.

"Why, are you interested if she’s single?" he asks innocently. "What about the no-fraternization policy?"

"Jackson," I shout. "I do not have time for these games."

"Pull up the intranet, Ethan. Trust me, you’re going to want to read this."

"I’m going to go. I…"

"Mid-thirties, slightly hot mess female seeking billionaire," he says loudly and then clears his throat.

"Huh?" I’m about to hang up, but now I’m confused. "What are you talking about?"

"That’s the title of the post that little Miss Sarah Kahan just posted to the intranet at one twelve a.m."

"She posted what?" For a couple of seconds, I feel disappointment. Is she a gold digger, after all? Did she see my article, and now she’s trying to get her hooks into me? Because how many other billionaires work at Rosser International besides Jackson, and Jackson hasn’t yet inherited his fortune. Though, he’s still worth hundreds of millions of dollars from his trust. I sigh in disappointment at the thought that Sarah is like all the other women, after all.

"You want to hear more?" Jackson asks as if that’s even in question.

"Go on, read it. Wait, let me get up from my desk and pour a stiff drink. I think I’m going to need it before I hear what this says."

"Oh, you’re definitely going to need it," he says, chuckling. "It seems that little Miss Sarah is not so dowdy and innocent."

"What do you mean by innocent?" I think back to her dancing on the table. Those were not the dance moves of an innocent woman.

"I don’t know. I figured, anyone that’s coming to work with thick-ass glasses, hair in a bun, and looking like some sort of Great-Aunt Mildred that works in the library, isn’t exactly trying to pull at work, right?"

"And what’s wrong with that? Are you trying to say that she should be trying to pull? You know…"

"I know, Ethan. There’s a no-fraternization policy at the company. That doesn’t mean that women don’t try and look good for men, and that doesn’t mean there aren’t lots of people banging in the office."

"Who is?"

"That’s not important right now, Ethan. Do you or do you not want to hear what little Miss Sarah has posted?"

"Fine," I say, stretching my legs and heading to my bar. I grab the crystal decanter of whiskey and pour it into a glass. I’m not even going to bother with ice. I have a feeling I don’t need it. I take a sip. "Wait a second. Did she call herself a hot mess?"

"Yep," he says. "I guess if she’s nothing, she’s honest."

"Mid-thirties, slightly hot mess female seeking billionaire," I repeat the words over. "She’s literally crazy. Does she want to get fired or something?"

"I don’t know," he says, "but you might want to fire her after you hear exactly what is in the post, which you still haven’t heard yet, and I’m not sure why you haven’t wanted to hear yet. Is it because you’re scared that…"

"I’m not scared of anything, Jackson. Go on. Tell me exactly what it says."

He clears his throat, and there’s a long silence.

"Hello? Are you there?"

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