Page 20 of Dirty Filthy Billionaire: Part 2

“Okay, try to calm down,” he says. “I know you’re upset but…”

“No, you don’t know. You told me no one would find out. You promised me. How can I possibly stay here when everyone knows?”

“You are not going anywhere,” he says. “And I’m going to take care of this right now. Where was this?”

“In the break room.”

He stalks across his office and throws open the door.

“What are you doing?” I say, trying to follow him—to stop him or see what he does next, I’m not sure.

Across the floor I see two of the people who were in the break room just leaving. When they see Weston their faces go white and they start walking faster to their cubicles.

“Uh-uh, nope. Stop right where you are,” Weston says, pointing to them with the article in his hand. They freeze. “Anybody want to fess up to this?” He raises the article in his fist. Everyone is watching—him, us, the whole nightmare scene. “Anyone? Whoever did this, great job. Stand up and let us admire how clever you are. No one wants to cop to it? You sure? Don’t have the guts?”

The entire office is dead silent. No one else speaks, no one even moves.

“When I find out who did this,” Weston says, “your ass is fired and I’ll make sure you never work in New York media again. And if anyone else says anything else remotely like this, you’ll be joining them. So keep that in mind when you’re all standing around gossiping instead of doing your fucking jobs.”

He turns on his heel, walks right past me to his office. The door slams, and that’s it.

I stand there for a moment—we all do. We’re all stunned. A few people dart their eyes at me one last time before scuttling back to their desks and getting back to work. I go back to my desk to hide from everyone and everything.

Later, Jen walks by my desk and hisses, “Did you have to run and tell Daddy? You’re going to get someone innocent fired.” She keeps walking, not looking for a response.

I spend the day working on my BDSM article. I keep thinking he’s going to call me, or email or text, but I don’t hear a thing from him. He doesn’t come out of his office all day, so I keep focused on the article. By the end of the day, once most everyone else has left, I’ve got a pretty good draft completed. I wasn’t told who my editor is or what I’m supposed to do with the article once I’ve finished it so I email it to Weston just before I leave. I have no idea if or when I’ll hear from him.

When I get to the apartment I throw my bag on the floor and immediately go digging through the cupboards and refrigerator.

“Hey, you,” Brody says, coming out of his room. “You okay?”

“Do we have any alcohol in this place?” I need a drink, and I need to vent.

“Not that I know of,” he says. “Hey, slow down. What’s wrong?”

I stop my searching and take a deep breath. “I had a really shitty day.”

“Then we will change that. Get your bag. I’m taking you for a proper drink.”

At the bar, we order Moscow mules and eat the free pretzels from the dish.

“I mean, I’m happy for the job but the people there are super bitchy,” I say. “I hope it’s just some sort of new girl initiation but damn.”

“Just do good work,” Brody says. “You’re not there to make friends. You’re there to make a career.”

“I know. That’s what I told myself. But still…”

I don’t tell Brody everything. I don’t tell him about Weston and me, or the real reason why today was so awful. I can’t bring myself to admit all that, not yet anyway.

“What’s that boss of yours doing in all this?” Brody asks. “Did he stand up for you?”

“He went nuclear. Yelled at the entire office, which was possibly even worse than the teasing I got today.”

“What a dick,” Brody says.

My phone pings a text, and my heart races to see it’s from Weston. I thought he was too busy for me today.

Where are you?he writes.

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