Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 129427 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 647(@200wpm)___ 518(@250wpm)___ 431(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129427 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 647(@200wpm)___ 518(@250wpm)___ 431(@300wpm)
As I waited in line at some no-name deli to pick up the bagels, my mind drifted over and over that night six years ago. I’d met Neil— or Leif— while waiting for my plane to Tokyo out of LAX. I was supposed to have gotten on a plane to New York, to start college at NYU, but at the last minute I’d chickened out, and charged an international flight on my emergencies-only credit card.
He’d been forty-two, super duper old by my naive, eighteen-year-old standards. But he’d had the two things going for him that I most desired in a man. He was older than me, and he had an English accent. When our flight got cancelled, I spent the night with him, doing things I had only read about on the internet. In the morning, I’d woken up to find him gone, my ticket to Tokyo with him, and four thousand dollars wrapped up in a note that advised me to get the next plane to New York. I’d been furious, and yeah, six years later, I was still pretty peeved about it. He’d had no right to change the course of my life that way. He hadn’t even known me. But if he hadn’t done that, I wouldn’t be where I was now.
That realization made me furious all over again. Where I was now was soon to be jobless and working for a man who’d fucked me once and didn’t seem to remember me. In a single morning, everything had gone from great to horrible.
In my ride up to the office, I made a resolution to not think about that night. Obviously, Neil hadn’t, so why should I? I would not remember the sound of his voice, low and close to my ear, telling me all the things he was going to do to me. I would not remember his hands on me, or the feel of his naked skin. I would not remember my hands tied behind my back, or ice cubes on my—
I might as well have thrown the bagels in the trash and headed straight to the unemployment office, if that was my strategy. There was no way I would forget any of that, especially working with him every day.
Every day until you train your replacement, I reminded myself as I passed my desk. Penelope still wasn’t in. Had someone tipped her off? Had Gabriella tipped her off? Why wouldn’t she have called me?
I rapped on the half-open door. He was already on Gabriella’s phone, talking confidently about the May issue. I wondered if I would still be here then, or if I would see it on the newsstand and start crying right there in front of the box I would be living in. Neil glanced up, then away again as he motioned me in. The eye-roller was looking through a rack of sequined miniskirts, stopping occasionally to pull one out and drop it on the floor. He looked up at me with pursed lips.
Oh, so we’re going to play the “I don’t know you, but I hate you already” game? That was fine by me. I wasn’t best friends with everyone in the office and I wasn’t about to start now. I raised my chin as I strode to Neil’s desk and dropped the bag of assorted bagels and condiments neatly on the desk.
He covered the mouthpiece of the phone with his hand. “Thank you, Sophie.”
I nodded and stepped back before turning away from the desk. I frowned at the eye-roller, who pretended he wasn’t keeping tabs on me. Then it struck me where I had seen him before. In the pages of Vanity Fair, always at some party or another in the Hamptons or a trendy TriBeCa loft. He was Rudy Ainsworth, costume designer for the Metropolitan Opera, among other illustrious companies. What was he doing pawing through Michael Kors minis?
That mystery held my fascination for about thirty seconds, until I had closed the door to Neil’s office behind me. Then it hit me. He’d said, “Thank you, Sophie.”
And I hadn’t given him my name.
Chapter Two
Remember that promise I’d made to myself, that I wouldn’t think about how I’d had sex with Neil? Yeah, after I decided that he was just pretending not to recognize me, that promise flew right out the window.
We assembled in the main office for the big announcement. Elwood & Stern had purchased Porteras from our former parent company, but the format and the styling would stay roughly the same. Neil addressed everyone briefly then let members of the new management team take over. While they talked about gradual changes to policies and procedures, Neil looked around the room, clearly assessing each employee he’d purchased.
All I could think was, I bet everyone can tell I’ve had sex with him.
Of course they couldn’t possibly know that, but I knew it. And that was enough. I went through the morning in an insane state of hyperawareness and total paranoia. When Jake stopped me on my way through reception to ask what I thought about the new boss, I practically shouted, “I don’t think about him!” before I could stop myself.