Page 11 of Dirty Nasty Billionaire: Part 3

“You’ve met my parents,” I say with a bitter laugh. “Of course they eat shredded wheat. They’re the most upstanding, bland citizens in the country. This is going to kill them.”

“You’re they’re daughter. They’ll forgive you.”

“And the rest of the country?”

“They’ll forget. A Kardashian will get knocked up or some model will throw a cell phone, and you’ll be yesterday’s news. They’ll be packing fish with this news by tomorrow.”

“What year do you think it is, 1983? There are no newspapers, and the internet is forever. A search of my name will bring up this story forever. Oh my god, how am I going to get a job anywhere, when the person interviewing me will have quick access to my sexual history with just a few keystrokes? I’m going to have to become Amish, because those are going to be the only people who won’t know!”

Elise arches an eyebrow at me.

“Oh go on, just say it,” I spit the words at her. “You’re allowed.”

“Just this once, let me say, for the record, maybe you should have thought of that before you slept with your boss.”

I sigh. “Ok, I deserved that,” I reply. “Do you feel better now?”

“I’ll feel better when you get up off that bathroom floor, get dressed, and go to work.”

“Are you nuts? I can’t go to work! Everyone there knows! And what’s the point of competing for a job at Scour now? I’m never going to get it.”

“You’re going to go in there, and you’re going to see Nixon Blake, and you’re going to tell him he needs to make it right. He’s the boss. He’s richer than god and a genius to boot. He’s got the power, so he can — and he should — fix it.”

I pause, thinking about that idea. I could go talk to Nixon. He could put out a statement saying, I don’t know, that our relationship had nothing to do with work? Or he could just say that we had a relationship. Hell, if his biggest fear was getting found out, and that’s happened, then maybe that means nothing’s stopping us from being together. Maybe he could give an interview somewhere admitting to the relationship and saying it wasn’t just sex.

And for a moment, I feel a glimmer of hope. Because maybe, just maybe, this could be a good thing. Maybe this is what we needed to finally be together.

Elise reaches down and offers me a hand, dragging me off the bathroom floor, grabbing me by the shoulders, and pointing me towards my bedroom. “Now let’s go in there, pick out your most fuckable, yet work appropriate outfit, ok?”

I take a deep breath and let it out. Can I really do this? Go back into the lion’s den, my head held high despite my very public disgrace?

I guess I can. Because that’s just what I intend to do.

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