Page 1 of Scorched

Chapter One

Cassie

I just wanted Dan to listen to me, but it was like talking to a brick wall.

“Look,” he said over the phone, “are you going to have the article or not?”

“I told you already. I’m taking this week off. I’m on vacation. I’m dealing with some personal stuff.” I took a sip of my Cosmo. It was a little too strong, maybe, but that was kind of the goal right now.

Get as fucked up as possible and do nothing for a week.

He sighed. I could imagine him in his office, frowning at something, probably one of the magazine awards he’d fabricated and put on his “vision board.”

“Look,” he said, “I’m sorry that you’re going through some crap or whatever, but deadlines are deadlines. If you can’t get your shit together, we’ll give the article to somebody else.”

I rolled my eyes. “Okay, fine. I’m sure you can find a billion girls online that want to write about swimsuit trends.”

“Then I will,” he said. “I’ll hire one of them. If she can actually meet a deadline, maybe I’ll keep her on.”

I gave a huff of disbelief. “Whatever, Dan. Maybe you should start respecting other people, huh? See how that one works out.”

There was a long silence on the other end of the line.

When Dan spoke again, his voice was cold. “I’m very sorry for your circumstances. But I have a magazine to run.”

The line went dead.

It took every ounce of willpower I had not to throw my phone into the pool.

If I had to suffer somewhere, at least it could be here—in a beautiful home, with an incredible pool and a view of the beach.

And a fully stocked bar.

I was trying to work, but it just…wasn’t happening. I’d taken the week off, and Dan was still up my ass.

I needed a break. A little time to myself, time to relax and process.

And I wasn’t going to do that if I had my laptop open and Dan on the phone.

So I closed my computer and took another sip of my Cosmo.

The sun was still up. It was a beautiful afternoon, and everything smelled like the salty ocean air.

And I needed to be nice to myself for a few minutes.

I sighed as I leaned back in my lounge chair, closing my eyes. The sunlight was warm, but the breeze kept me from getting sweaty.

I would’ve liked to enjoy it more.

I reached for my phone and sighed.

Social media was boring, full of people I knew being happy. Look at us at a party; look at us in Paris; look at us at a concert.

Look at me, miserable despite being in paradise.

I didn’t take a selfie for Instagram, or update my Twitter. There was no point.

The people who knew where I was could reach out if they wanted to.

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