Page 60 of Billionaire Romantic
If there was ever a day I needed luck, Mama, this is it. Send me a little extra from wherever you are up there. I miss you. Daddy, I’ll do the best I can.
Then I grab a cab to the Fifth Avenue address of Invested Enterprises.
On the way, I try to channel my inner calm. After the emotional release of my crying jag, I do feel calmer. I’ll negotiate with Cash Maddox and his mulish CFO with all the self-confidence I have—which isn’t record-breaking but it’s also not nothing. I do happen to be good at my job. I’ve been studying these numbers my whole life. Thereisvalue in Ashton Holdings. And there’s huge potential for growth. I just have to convince them of that.
The cab pulls up to the curb. I pay the guy and step out onto the street.
I look up.
I happen to know Invested Enterprises owns the entire skyscraper.
Wow.
It’s an impressive building.
Let’s do this, L. Emerson.
I take a deep breath. And I step inside.
The lobby is black marble, gold and glass. There’s a front desk and a metal-detector entranceway that leads deeper into the lobby, to the area where the rows of elevators are.
“Good morning,” the girl at the desk greets me. She’s young, gorgeous, very professional and has the whitest teeth I’ve ever seen. She could be a Dallas Cowboys cheerleader or a Victoria’s Secret runway model. It’s well publicized that all the brightest new graduates from all over the country flock to apply for jobs at Invested Enterprises. It’s the trendiest company to work for in New York.
“Hi. I’m Lucky Ashton. I’m here to meet with Cash Maddox.”
She checks the computer. “I have an L. Emerson Ashton at ten.”
“Yes, that’s me.”
“Welcome, Ms. Ashton. Your meeting is on the eighteenth floor. It’s Boardroom 1810. Take one of the elevators on the left. When you get to the eighteenth floor, take a right. It’s the largest meeting room, at the end of the hall. You can’t miss it. They’re all waiting for you.”
All?My heart is beating fast. The clock on the wall reads 10:01. “Thank you.”
A group of young, fashionably-dressed employees who might have just come from a Vogue photoshoot follow me through the metal detector. Talking animatedly, they all wander into elevators on the right. I’m the only one waiting for the elevators on the left.
One opens. I step inside and press 18.
It barely even feels like I’m moving.
If I lose everything, I’ll look for a job in Ireland, that’s what I’ll do. Fuck it all. I’ll pack my bags and live a completely different life. I’ll rent a little studio apartment with a futon for a bed and a desk that looks out the window over green fields. I’ll start over again. So what if I don’t have a penny to my name. Or a home. Or possessions. Or a job. At least I’ll be free.
Of course I’ll call Noah back. Maybe we can even have another weekend together before I fly out.
My stomach does a weird swoop that has nothing to do with the elevator. It has everything to do with the reminder of my spur-of-the-moment trip to Ireland and the reason I was going to do that.
Oh. My. GOD. I forgot to take my pill. I always take it before bed. But on Friday night I was so preoccupied I completely forgot. I FORGOT TO TAKE MY BIRTH CONTROL PILL. I didn’t take one on Saturday either. Or Sunday. I FORGOT FOR THREE WHOLE DAYS.
What Ididdo on Friday, SaturdayandSunday was have a very unprotected and extremely uninhibited sex-a-thon.
DOES MISSING YOUR PILLS FOR THREE DAYS MEAN YOU CAN…?
Holy shit.I need to google it. I need to get a Plan B. I need to figure out what to do.
The elevator pings and the doors slide open.
I almost don’t step out.
Should I rush home and immediately take a pill? All three? Would that make a difference?
