Page 4 of 12 Days

They’re all ridiculously gorgeous! Not just the women either—the men are all sexy as hell. I mean, some of these guys could be in underwear ads, and others, well, I’m sure they already are.

I start to feel a little self-conscious just sitting there. My people-watching is interrupted when I notice the man standing just in front of me.

"Now tell me, is it Miss or Mrs. Morrow?"

"Miss." I clear my throat and start over. "Hello, I’m Miss Alyssa Morrow."

"Hello, Alyssa,” he says smoothly, and his voice sends a little thrill through my body. “I’m Owen, one of the board members here at True Love. If you’ll just follow me, I’ll take you back to meet with the others."

I lick my lips nervously. Owen’s extremely attractive. I can tell that he has a great body under that expensive suit he’s wearing, the cut of it tight enough to just hint at his great ass as well.

"Lead the way." Because I will follow you anywhere. Oh my God,focus, Alyssa, focus!

As we walk deeper into the building, I notice that many of the work stations are the new standing desks that seem to be all the rage among office workers my age now. Unlike the ones that I’m used to seeing that have an open structure underneath to allow for air flow and give a minimalist impression, though, these are closed in from the work surface to the base.

This style kind of makes it look like the people are working in front of open cabinets. I can’t imagine what the appeal of this was.

Regardless of how ugly the desks are, the people working at them more than make up for it. It seriously looks like they hired all of these people from a modeling agency. It’s a bit demoralizing seeing all these gorgeous people around.

Following Owen, it hits me suddenly. The guard, the desks, the models they have working here: it's all just an intimidation tactic. So far, everything I’ve seen of this company is either big or beautiful. If we’re taking the building design and architecture into account, it’s obvious that those two aspects are the major consideration for its construction.

I’m actually fucking fuming at this place now. True Love, my ass. I can't wait to get in there and tell these smug sons-of-bitches just what I think about them.

I take some deep breaths to calm myself. I'm not even totally sure why I’m so mad at them. I’ve heard the rumors about the company, about their questionable practices and what people say after using their products. I can't stand a company that takes advantage of their consumers.

"It's right through here," Owen says as he opens a door for me. He’s been in front of me the whole time, and hopefully missed the assortment of faces I’m sure I was wearing as I went through my little internal emotional tantrum.

But now that I’m here, I’m ready to let all these thoughts out. And they’ll listen to me. I will make them hear me.

I storm past him into the board room, leaving Owen and his curious smirk to follow behind. I’m a woman with purpose.

The board room is enormous. There’s a giant table in the middle of the room with twelve seats, eleven of which are occupied by men just as handsome as Owen, who I’m assuming the twelfth chair belongs to.

Owen himself walks to the side of the room, regarding me as he casually crosses his arms and leans against the wall.

I remind myself that I’m a woman on a mission. I’m a woman with a voice. I will be heard.

I’m a woman...who is being completely ignored.

Owen is still the only one in the room who’s so much as glanced in my direction. The rest of them are all deeply engaged in a discussion. Even the ones who are almost facing me seem not to have noticed that I’m standing right here.

I wait for an appropriate amount of time, starting out by looking at each of the eleven, then glaring at them.

Owen, on the other hand, I avoid making eye contact with altogether. I can tell he’s just standing there, staring at me. It would normally make me uncomfortable, except that with the other eleven ignoring me, I’m starting to worry that they can’t even see me at all, that I’ve somehow become invisible or ceased to exist. Owen is at least confirmation that I can be seen.

I start counting Mississippi’s, clearing my throat at every ten. After the sixth throat clearing, I finally look at Owen with a somewhat pleading expression, silently asking what the fuck is up with this. But Owen just continues to stare at me as if he’s wondering how much of this I’ll take. As if he’s defying me to crack under the weight of the awkwardness.

It’s his expression that finally cinches it. I’m sick and tired of these corporate types that don’t care about anyone or anything other than the bottom line; ones who will gladly tread over their own grandmother’s grave just to save a nickel. I’m at my wit’s end with them, and they’re about to get a piece of my mind.

"ENOUGH!" Everyone in the room stops and turns to stare at me. "You all need to listen to me, right now." Their gorgeous eyes look right through me. "I need you all to know something. And I have some questions."

Their gaze disarms me. The steam that was building up within me a minute ago is suddenly gone in one breath.

One of the eleven asks me, "Yes? What questions?"

I can't even respond to him. I know I was about to say something, but I don’t quite know what. And now that I’ve gotten everyone's attention, my mind has gone blank.

I’m just as surprised as everyone else in the room. Until I realize it isn’t surprise I’m seeing on their faces. No, it’s exasperation, and it floors me.

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