Page 19 of Dirty Filthy Billionaire: Part 2

Mia

When I walk into the offices of Prerogative Media—again, for a third time—my guard is up. I’m really trying to be trusting and open-minded that Jen doesn’t know and that Weston is right in that she doesn’t know, but I’m still on edge.

“Oh. Mia. Hello,” Jen says when I get off the elevator. It’s the same slightly terse manner she’s had with me before. Maybe it’s just her personality.

“Hi, Jen,” I say. “Reporting for duty!” Jen stares blankly at me. God, what a stupid remark. It’s like I’m kissing up to her or something. “Um, I was told that there’s an office for me?”

“You mean a cubicle?” she says.

“Yeah, that’s what I—”

“Hang on, I’ll get someone to show you back.”

After a quick call, a girl in a slim black skirt and strappy heels comes out.

“I told you it’s not my job,” she says to Jen.

“I can’t leave my desk.”

“You do often enough.” She turns her eyes to me and says, “Let’s go. I’ll show you back.”

I follow her through the rows of cubicles, offices lined on the sides. Everyone seems to watch us, hopefully just checking out the new girl and nothing crazier than that.

“Here,” she says at a desk right in the middle of everyone. It feels like total exposure. “The last person left without notice so you’ll have to clean it. We cleared all the files from her drawers and also rummaged the good stuff she left behind. The rest is trash. If you need cleaning supplies they’re in the break room. Your temporary username and password are here. Set up your own once you log in. Any questions, try to figure it out on your own first. If you must, I’m just three down.”

“Thanks, I appreciate it,” I say but she’s already sighing and walking away.

I will do this. This job is too good to be beaten down on my first day. I don’t know how other offices work but maybe there’s just a couple of bitchy girls here and the rest are cool. Or I don’t have to have any friends here. It’s work, after all, not social hour.

I set to cleaning up the desk. It’s dusty and cluttered and it does look like it’s been thoroughly rummaged. Dried pens and broken pencils, half-used notepads and loose paper clips and rubber bands fill the drawers. I toss a bunch of old office supplies in the trash then head to the break room for paper towels and cleaning spray to wipe it all down.

There are several people getting coffee and chatting. They all turn to look at me when I enter. I give a little wave.

“Hey,” I say. “I’m Mia, the new—”

“You’re Mia?” someone says, and then a light chuckling goes through the room.

I steel myself. “I’m looking for a cleaning spray or something? To wipe down my desk.”

“Over there,” a guy says, pointing to a cluster of cabinets near a bulletin board.

I go to the get the cleaner, find it, then look at the articles and notices posted on the board. Lots of legal work stuff cluttered around pictures from the magazines and some articles. One catches my eye.

It’s an article from a past issue of Blush titled “Top Ten Ways to Get Ahead at Work.” Except all the ten ways are crossed out in black Sharpie, and in their place reads, Blow Your Boss.

I stand staring at the defaced article in disbelief and total, absolute humiliation. I can hear the others behind me—they’ve gone quiet, seeing what I’m looking at. I rip the article off the board and walk out of the break room. As the door shuts behind me I hear laughter and lots of, Holy shits.

I go straight to Weston’s office, bypassing Rachel, who tries to stop me at his door. I throw the door open; he’s on a call but quickly gets off when he sees my face.

“Excuse me!” Rachel says behind me. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Bridges. She just barged past me.”

“It’s fine, Rachel,” he says. “Please close the door.”

She turns to leave but shoots me a look first which could mean so many things that I can’t even begin to interpret them.

“What is wrong with you?” he asks. “We’re going to need to set some boundaries if you’re just going to bust in here whenever you feel like it.”

“This is what’s wrong with me,” I say, tossing the article on his desk. “I told you. I told you, Weston. They all know now. How can I possibly stay here if the whole fucking office knows about this? Do you know how embarrassing this is? How dirty and disgusting it makes me feel?”

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