ByJ.A.Huss

EditedbyRJLocksley

Allrightsreserved.

ISBN-978-1-944475-04-8

Thisisaworkoffiction.Names,characters,businesses,places,eventsandincidentsareeitherthe

productsoftheauthor ’simaginationorusedinafictitiousmanner.Anyresemblancetoactual

persons,livingordead,oractualeventsispurelycoincidental.

DESCRIPTION

Wantingtheperfectmandoesn’tmakemecrazy.IjustknowwhatIlike.
Apowerfulbillionaireinasuitwasn’tevenmyfirstchoice.McallisterStonewallwasneveron

myradar,Ididn’tevenknowheexisted.

ButIdonow.
Hishandsareallovermeatwork.Theheatofhischestpressingagainstmybarebackashe

bendsmeoverthedeskistheonlythingonmymind.

Heismymostforbiddendesiresunleashed.Heismynewsecretobsession.HeismyMr.

Perfect.

UntilthemomentIrealize…There’snosuchthingasperfect.

ChapterOne-Ellie

Ellie:Hi,honey!Ihopeyou’rehavingagreatday!Imadethissuper-cutePinterestboardlast

night.Wouldn’tthetwins’roomlookadorablelikethis?

“Stopdoingthat,Ellie.”MingisglaringatmelikeIjuststrangledapuppy.
“What?ImadeanewPinterestboardlastnight.Ijustwantedtoshare.”
“Share,”Mingsays,shakingherhead.“That’sagoodone,Ellie.Anyway,thatBrutusguyishere.

Thepilotjustradioedandsaidhe’snotpleasant,sobeready.”

That’sit.I’mquitting.
I’mnotkidding.ThereisnotenoughmoneyintheworldtopersuademetoputupwithBrutusone

moretime.I’vebeentalkingtothisguyforthreemonthstryingtogethimtoagreetoaninterview
withShawnaandGregontheHumpdayHottiesegmentofDailyE!andeverysingletimetherock

starhasbeenanassholetothenthdegree.HewasnotatallthrilledabouttheHumpdaything.Buthe
wasonlyavailableonWednesdaysandhesayshenevertapesshows,onlysingslive.Whatdoeshe
wantmetodo?Reinventthedaysoftheweek?EveryoneknowsWednesdaysarehumpdays.He
shouldbethrilledwe’recallinghima‘hottie’.

“Icanreadyourmind,youknow,”Mingsaysfrombehindme.She’smybestfriendinthewhole

wideworld.

I’mlookingoutthewindowofmyfishbowlofficethatopensupintotheairplanehangarwhere

thebigshotscomein.Anysecondnowtheplanewilltaxiinandhe’llgetoutandmypersonalhell
willbegin.Whydidheagreetotheinterviewifhedidn’twanttocome?Wesentourbestjettopick
himupinSantaFeandflyhimhere.I’vegotthegreenroomallreadyforhim—allthosestupid
ridersherequiresaspartofhiscontract.Whoneedsanorganiccheesetrayatnineinthemorning?
ThetoothbrushIcansee.That’sagoodrider.AndI’mnotworriedabouttheM&M’swithallthe
brownonespickedout.Ihavebagsandbagsofsingle-coloredM&M’sstashedawaydownhere.Ican
dealwithanyofthehundredsofsillyM&Mrequestsacelebritycanthrowatme.Butthehand-made
Icelandicwoolsocks?Whenishegoingtotakehisshoesoffduringthisshow?Thatbastardbetter
takethemhome,too.IfIfindthoseIcelandicsocksleftbehindafterIhadtopersonallyarrangefora
pairtobeovernightedhere—

“Justignorehim,Ellie.”
ButIcan’tignorehim.It’smyjobtopaymeticulousattentiontohiseverywhim.SoIignoreMing

instead.Icanseeareflectionofherfaceintheglass.She’sscowlingatme.

IworkforStonewallEntertainment.I’macelebrityconsultant,whichsoundsfancywhenyou’re

anintern,whichIwaswhenItookthisjob.Butsevenyearslaterit’snothingmorethanafancyname
forbabysitter.Myjobistohandlethecelebritiesastheycomeinforappearancesonanyoneofour
twodozenonlinenetworkswerunfromtheStonewallCampusintheDenverTechCenter.

TodayismyluckydaybecauseBrutusiscoming.Hisfirstinterviewinfiveyearsandit’swithus.

Iarrangedit.Iwooedhimandsoothedhimandpromisedtomakehisdayperfect.Everyalbumhe’s
releasedinthepasttenyearshasgoneplatinumandStonewallSeniortoldmeto‘makeithappen.’

AndbecausemakingithappenismyMO,he’shere.ButBrutusisapompousass.

“Ellie?”Mingaskssharplytomakemepayattentiontoher.
“What?”
“Don’tlethimgettoyou.He’sjustanothersomebody.Humorhim.”
Ilookovermyshoulderandrollmyeyes.“Idohumorhim.It’smyjobtohumorhim.Ievenhave

thegolfcartreadytotakeustothemainbuilding.Thecoveredone,likeheaskedfor.”Eventhough
it’seighty-onedegreesalreadyandit’sonlysevenAMandthecoveredonehasnoairconditioning.

Justimagininghowmuchsweatwillcollectinsidemybraonthedriveoverisalmostenoughfor

metowalkoutandgivenonotice.

“I’mdefinitelyquittingtoday,”ItellMing.
“Nooo,Ell-lllie,”shesays,sing-songingmynameinthatget-down-off-the-ledgevoice.“You’re

not.BecauseAdelineiscomingtomorrow,remember?”

Isigh.Ididn’t.Well,Imean,Iknew,ofcourse.Ihavethewholescheduleinmyhead.ButBrutus…
Mostofthecelebritiesareregulars.Everyonceinawhilewegetanewperson,butnotveryoften.

AndAdelineismyfavoritesingerinthewholewideworld.Shejustputoutanewsonglastweekand
she’sgoingtosingittomorrowonThrowbackThursday.

Ican’tquituntilafterthat,Iguess.Ioweherthecourtesyofaprofessionalgoodbye.
“Fine.”Igivein.Thejetmakesitswaytowardsthehangarentrance.Ismooththewrinklesoutof

mypinkA-lineskirtandthenwishIhadn’twornsomethingsogirlytoday.Mykimonoblouseis
whiteandflirty.Veryruffle-y.PeoplenevertakemeseriouslywhenIwearruffles.Andthereareno
buttonsinthefront,it’sjustawrap-around.

Butit’sWednesday,sothatmeansaninterestingblousewithanA-lineskirt,mid-heelshoes,anda

clutch.Thinkingaboutwhattoweareachmorningisn’tsomethingIhavemuchtimeforsoIcameup
withascheduleforit.Mondaysarepencilskirtwithbutton-downoversizedshirtandathinbeltatmy
waist.Tuesdaysarebusinesschic.Fittedtrousers,lightinthesummer,darkinthewinter,withacami
shellandamatchingblazer.Thursdaysaresex-it-up-for-happy-hourdresses.MingandIbothwear
theoffice-safeversionofashortcocktaildress,discreetlycoveredupwithablazer,andstashthe
stilettosinourdesksuntilafterwork.

Fridaysarebusinesscasual.Butformethatusuallymeanswide-leggedtrouserswithsuper-high

heelstomakemylegslooklongenoughtopullthatlookoff.Ilovethelook,Ijustneedalittlehelp
makingitwork.Mylegslooklongincomparisonwithmysmallbody,buttheyarenotlong.
Stonewallhasagreattailoroncampus.Theyknowmewell.

I’msureBrutuswillgivetoday’sflirtyoutfitthestink-eye.Idomybestwiththeclothes.Imean,

really,Idodamngood,ifIdosaysomyself.It’snoteasydressinglikeacelebrityonacelebrity
assistant’ssalary.AndIhavetolookthisway,it’spartofmycontract.

“God,”ItellMing.“Ireallywon’tmisstheclotheswhenIquit.I’mgoingtowearyogapantsto

workeveryday.”

“Wheredoyouthinkyou’llbeworkingthatwillletyouwearyogapants?”Mingasks.
Ishrug,myheartbeatingfastastheylowertheairstairs.“Thegymmaybe.Imightstartteaching

Zumbaclasses.”

Minglaughs.“Honey,please.ThelasttimeyoutookZumbawithmeyousprainedyourmiddle

finger.”Sheshakesherheadwithachuckle.“WhosprainsafingerinZumba?”

“Ifellonitwrong.”AsIwasflippingtheinstructorofffortellingustoshakeourmoney-makers

likewemeanit.

Brutusappearsinthedoorway.
“Shit,”Isay.“Herehecomes.Seeyoulater.”
“Later,”Mingsays.
Itakeadeepbreath,tuckmyfancypinkclutchundermyarm,andpushthroughtheglassdoorsof

myofficeheadingtowardsthejet.Theairplanehangarisloud,busy,anddirty.Ipracticallytiptoe
acrossthebay,desperatetokeepmysecond-handhotpinkJimmyChoosfrompickingupanyoil.I
huffoutasighofdisgust.Whydon’twehaveadepotorsomething?Atinyconcourse?Thiscampus
hasadrycleaner,amedicalbuilding,seventeenrestaurants—notincludingthecafeteriainthemain
Atrium,whichisfreeforeveryone—threegyms,atailor,anorganicgrocerystore,andawellness
centerthathasafull-timestaffofnailtechs,hairdressers,andmassagetherapists.

Whydon’twehaveaconcoursewhereguestscanwalkdownajetwayintoaniceclimate-

controlledbuilding?

Breathe,Ellie.Focusonyourjob.Justgetthroughtoday,putinyourtwoweeks’notice,andthink

aboutthefuture.Iwon’tbeteachingZumba,IwaskiddingandMingknowsit.I’mterribleatZumba.
No.Ihavebigplans.

“Mr.Brutus.”Ibeamasthesummerheatwashesoverme.Yup,Ihaveapoolofsweatinmybra.

WhenIquitI’mnotgoingtowearapush-upbraeveragain.“Mr.Brutus,”IsayagainasIgetcloser.
“I’mthrilledtofinallymeetyou!”He’salmostdownthestairswhenheseesme.Mysmileissobig.
Sobig.Anditshouldbe.I’vebeenpracticingthissmileforsevenyears.

“You’relate,”hesays.
“Iam?”Wait.He’sbaitingyou,Ellie.Ignore,ignore,ignore.“I’vegotthegolfcartrightoverthere

foryou.Thecoveredone,sothesunwon’tfreckleyourskin.”Ikeepastraightfaceforthatremark
becausethat’sthekindofprofessionalIam.

Heshootsmeadisgustedlookanyway.
Right.Iwalkovertothewaitingcart,pullbacktheplasticcoverthatsurroundsthelittlevehicle

likeahospitaloxygententandresignmyselftosweatytits.

Nooneusesthegolfcartsbecauseweactuallyhaveatrainthatgoestothemainbuilding.Like,

ourownsubwaysystem.ThecampushereatStonewallissodamnbig—onehundredandfiftyacres,
tobeaccurate—weneedatraintogetaround.

ButBrutusrefusestousethetrain.Irollmyeyesjustthinkingaboutit.Germs,hesaid.It’snot

NewYorkCity,forPete’ssake.It’saprivatetrainonaprivatebillion-dollarcorporatecampus.

Mingthinkshe’sobsessive-compulsiveandthegermsarepartofit.Shereadthatonline.
Whateverhisexcuse,it’snotenoughtomakemehappyaboutbeinginsidearollingplastictentin

themiddleofsummer.Isighloudly.

“Well,”Brutussays.“You’recuterthanIexpected.”
“Excuseme?”Ignore,ignore,ignore,Ellie.
“Yousoundedsowounduponthephone.Ithoughtyou’dbesomethirty-somethingmatron.It’sa

nicesurprise,”hesays,likethatwilldullthestingoftheinsult.

Allhetalksaboutwhenwegetinsidethemobiletentistheheat.Apparentlyhelovestheheatand

thisplastic-coveredgolfcartishisideaofbliss.

“I’mveryexcitedtohearyousing,”Isay,pushingthestartbuttononthecart.IthumstolifeandI

pressmydesignershoedownonthepowerpedal,eagertogetthisoverwith.

“Peopleusuallyare,”hesays.
Inod,doingmybesttosmileandignore.“I’vegotyouallsetupinthegreenroom.Thereare

plentyofsnacksanddrinksforyouasyouwait.Andeverythingyouaskedforiswaiting.”

“Itbetterbe,”Brutushuffs.“That’swhyIcame.”
Inod.Sure.Thatandthepaycheck,whichisoutrageous,andthejet,whichisnicerthanhisown,

becauseIchecked.AndthefactthatDailyE!isthehighest-ratednighttimeentertainmentshowforsix
yearsrunning.Butsure,wecanallpretendhecamefortheM&M’sandwoolsocks.

Hestartscoughingandbreathingheavylikehe’ssuffocating.Maybeit’sthisplasticsaunawe’re

rollingaroundinwhenit’sthemiddleofsummer?“Ihopeyou’renotgettingsick,Mr.Brutus?”

Buthe’stoobusyhackingandgaspingtoanswer.“Brutus?AreyouOK?Doyouneedsome

water?”IflipthelittleconsoleboxopenbetweenourseatsandtakeoutthebottledwaterIstashed
thereearlier.It’salittlewarm,sothere’sonemorethingforhimtobitchabout.

Therockstarwavesthewateroff.“Ihope,”hecroaksout,“therearenopeanutsinthegreen

roomtoday.”

“Oh,no,Itooknoteofyourpeanutallergy.Wehaditprofessionallycleanedjustfor—”Istop

short.Oh,fuck.

“Idon’tthink”—hecoughsagain,clutchinghisthroat—“you’retelling—”
Oh,myGod.He’sturningred.“Brutus?”Iask,mylittletwo-inchpumppressingdownonthe

powerpedalasItrytomakeitovertothehealthbuilding.“Brutus?”

“—methetruth.”Andthenhiseyesbugoutandhemakesanothermadgraspforhisthroatwith

onehandandmyarmwiththeother.

Oh,shit.Howthehell,Ellie?That’sallIkeepaskingasIracemywayovertothemedical

building.Howthehellcouldyouforgettotakeyourpeanutbuttersandwichoutofyourpurse?

“Hangon!”
“You’retryingto—”
“No,sir!”Isay.
“—killme.”
“No,sir!I’msosorry—”
Butmywordsarecutoffashisheadflopsbackagainsttheseatandhegaspsforbreath.

ChapterTwo-Ellie

“Whatthehellhappened?”Mingasks.
Iflopdowninmydeskchairandpickupthelandlinephone.“Hello?Miranda?Yeah,canyoulet

ShawnaandGregknowBrutuswon’tbeabletomakethesongatnine?”

IshakemyheadatMingwhileMirandaripsmeanewoneonthephone.
“Well,hewentintoanaphylacticshockontherideovertothestudioandItookhimtohealth

servicesfor—”IholdthephoneawayfrommyearasMirandascreamsatme.

“Whatthehell?”Mingasksagain.
Imouth,Peanutbutter,whilefishingoutmylunchfrommyclutchandwavingmybaggieof

peanutbuttersandwich.“Yes,thanks,Miranda.Andsorr—”

Shehangsup,soIjustputthephonebackonthecradle.
“Ireallydoquit,”Isay,lookingupintoMing’ssmilingface.“What?Whyareyousmiling?I

almostkilledarockstar!”

Mingmakesabigdealofstraighteninghersmile.“Willhelive?”
“Yes,buthe’smadashell.Heactuallyaccusedmeofdoingitonpurpose!”
“Oh,”Mingsays,rollinghereyes.“Thatjerkcanjustgetoverhimself.”
Ipulloutmycellphoneandstarttexting.
“Ellie,stoptextingthatman.Youguysneverevendated.”
Iglareatmyfriend.“HegotsentofftoChinabyhisfather.Hedidn’tevengettosaygoodbye.We

wereabouttodate.Wehadlunchplansthenextday.Andthenpoof,disappearedofftoChina.Oneday
he’llgethisphonebackandthenhe’llcallandwe’llpickupwhereweleftoff.”

Minggivesmeaslowblink.“Really?”
“Really.”IgetupandwalkovertothebathroomsheandIshare.Wearetheonlytwogirlsdown

hereinthehangar,soit’sasingleroom.Ishutthedoorbehindmeandleanagainstitasmyfingers
flyacrossthekeyboard.

Ellie:Man,mydaysucks.Ihopeyoursisbetter.Ialmostkilledacelebritywithmypeanutbutter

sandwich.Iknow,Iknow.Thatisinexcusable.ButI’msodistracted.I’mputtingmynoticeintoday.
Whenyougethometherewillbenoconflictofinterestatall.We’llhavethebesttime,right?

Thatmakesmefeelbetter.IopenupPinterestandclickthroughmyboardsuntilIfindtheone

calledDreamHome.God,it’sperfect.It’snothinglikemycondohereintheTechCenter,whichis
ultra-modern—everythinghereisultra-modern—andstackable.Becausewhilelandmight’vebeen
cheapbackwhenStonewallSeniorpurchasedhishundredandfiftyacrestwentyyearsago,todayit
runsatapremium.It’shigh-risecondosalltheway.I’vebeenlivinginmineforalmostsixyearsnow.
EversinceIgotoutofcollegeandtookthejobascelebritybabysitterfulltime.

No,thedreamhouseisnothinglikethecondosintheTechCenter.It’ssoftandflirty,likethe

blouseI’mwearingtoday.It’sgotawhitekitchenandstainless-steelappliances,themostgorgeous
crownmoldingyoucanimagine,andflutterysheerwhitecurtainsthatcoverfloor-to-ceiling
windows.Thefloorsarehand-scrapedhardwood,dark,tocontrastwiththelightwallsandkitchen.

Thecouchesarecomfy,andthekids’roomsareperfect.IpastethelinktoDreamHouseBoardinto
myphoneandtype:

Ellie:Look,didyouseethishouse?It’sonlyfifteenminutesfromtheTechCenter.Andnotraffic.

Wecouldtakesideroadsallthewayintoworkeachday.It’sperfect,right?

Idon’tgetananswer.Inevergetananswer.
HeathcliffStonewall—yes,youngestmaleprogenyofStonewallSenior,ownerofthiscampus—

wassenttoChinatwomonthsagotodo…something.Ihavenoclue.Theynevertellmeanything.
Theinternalmessagingsystemonthecompanyphoneshasn’tworkedsince.Soheneverseesmy
texts.ButhowlongcanhisfatherexilehimtoChina?Afewmoreweeks,maybe?Months?Surely
he’llbebackassoonastheprojectisdone.Andthenwecanpickupwhereweleftoff.

It’sstupidtotexthimsincehe’snotevenseeingthem,butIdon’tcare.Itmakesmefeelbetter.It

getsmethroughtheday.Andeventhoughwe’dbarelystartedgettingmorepersonalwhenhewas
relocated,Ihavewaitedforarealdateforsevenyears.Seven.Years.I’mnotlettingalittlethinglike
ChinagetinthewayofhitchingmyselftoMr.Perfect.

Ifindanotherboard,thisonetitledOurPets.I’mgoingtogetasheepdogfirst,thenawholebunch

ofkittens,andsomefish.Saltwatertank,Ithink.Thehouseisbigandhasacresoflandthatbegsfor
bigdogstoroamit.Imightevengethorses.Ithasabarnandprettywhitepost-and-railfencesthat
surroundthewholeproperty.

IsighasIpastealinkintothephone.Thepicturethatloadsisforalocalbreederandit’stheir

newestlitterofpuppies.I’dgetonenowifmycondoallowedpets,buttheydon’t.

Aknockonthedoorbreaksmeoutofmyperfectdaydream.“Ellie!Areyouexpectinganother

bigshot?Aplanejustlanded.”

Iopenthedoor.“What?Who?We’renotexpectinganyoneforanhour.”
“Idon’tknow,”Mingsays.“Butthere’sagreatbigjetwiththeStonewalllogoonthesidetaxiing

uptothehangar.It’ssobig,Billsaysitwon’tevenfitinside.”

“JesusChrist,”Isay,walkingovertomydeskandpullingmycompanytabletoutofmyclutch.I

findthescheduleonmycalendar,scanningforasecretguest.“Nothing,”Isay.“Noone’ssupposedto
behereyet.”

Iwalkovertothewindowthatlooksoutontothehangarandseeamassivejetslowly

approaching.Thelogomeansnothing.WesendStonewalljetstopickupallkindsofpeople.Wehave
awholefleetofthemcomingandgoingmostdays.

Thehatchopensandthemechanicalstaffwheelsthemetalairstairsovertotheopening.
“Berightback,”ItellMingasIpushthroughtheofficedoorsandstartrunningacrossthehangar.

IdomybestinmyJimmyChoos,anyway.Amaninadarksuitappearsintheentranceatthetopof
thestairs.He’sgotblondhair,asmallbitofscruffonhischin,andflashingeyes.Hereachesintohis
pocketandpullsoutapairofsunglasses,placingthemonhisfaceashedescends.

“Excuseme!”Iyell.“Excuseme!”
Noonehearsme.Thehangarisloud.
Themanisatthebottomofthestairsnow,andheturnshisbacktomeasIrun,stillscreaming,

“Excuseme!”

Nooneappearswithhim,andhedoesn’twaitaroundforanyone,either.Justtakesoffwalking

towardsthecampus.

“Excuseme!”IscreamitasloudasIcan.I’mstillrunning,buttheheelofmyleftshoegetsstuck

inacrackonthetarmac,andIkeepgoingwhilemyshoestaysplantedintheconcrete.“Shit!”

Andwouldn’tyouknowit,somehowthatgetshisattention.Becausehestopswalking,turns

around,andthenlowershissunglassesdownhisnosetolookatme.I’mstillabouttwentyfeetfrom
him,andtheroaroftheplaneissoloudthere’snotachanceinhellhewillhearme,butIgiveitmy
bestgo.“Excuse—”

Thejetenginesshutdown.
“—me!”
Everyonestopswhattheyaredoingtolookatme.Atleastfifteenemployees,plusthebeautiful

strangerinthesuit.

Iclosemyeyesforasecond,thenhobbleovertowardstheman,mylostshoestillstuckinthe

crackofconcrete.“Excuseme,”Isayagain.“I’mEllie—”

“Ellie?”themansaysinadeepvoice.Hiseyeshavealittletwinkleofmischiefinthem.
Whatthehellisupwiththatlook?“Yes,”Isay,smoothingdownmypinkskirttoavoidfeeling

self-conscious.“I’mthecelebrityconciergeforStonewallEntertainment.Ihandleallthecomingsand
goingsaroundhereandI’mafraidyouweren’tonmyguestlist.”

Thehandsomestrangerlookspastmeandthenstartswalkinginmydirection,passingrightby

me.“Whereareyougoing?”Iask.

Buthesaysnothing,justbendsdown,priesmyshoefromthecrackintheconcrete,andthenturns

backtome,myshoeinhisoutstretchedhandlikehe’sofferingmeagift.

“Youlostyourslipper.”Hechuckles,walkingbacktowardsme.
Itaketheshoeandslipitonmyfootjustasagolfcartpullsup.Ifyoucouldscreechthetireson

thosethings,itwould’vescreeched.Myboss,Mr.Sowards,jumpsoutandpositionshimselfbetween
meandtheman.

Mr.Sowardsextendshishand,andIhavetosidesteptoseethestranger ’sface.Hiseyesarestillon

meforsomereason,evenashereturnsmyboss’gestureandshakeshishand.“I’msorryIwaslate,
Mr.Stonewall.”

“Stonewall?”Isay.
ThenewStonewallsmilesatme.
“That’sright,”Mr.Sowardssays.“McAllisterStonewall.We’resohappyyou’rehere,Mac…”
IlosetrackoftheconversationforafewsecondsasIputthepiecestogether.ThisisHeath’s

brother.

Wow.Istudyhim.Myfuturebrother-in-law.Theydokindoflookalike,nowthatIknowwhohe

is.

“Don’tmindEllie,”mybosssayswithachuckle.“She’sjusttheconciergefortheguests.”
Justtheconcierge?
Iopenmymouthtosaysomethingaboutthatremark,buttheyhaveturnedandarealreadygetting

intothegolfcart,notevenglancingbackatme.

ChapterThree-Ellie

“Hehasabrother?”Mingsays.“Whydidn’tweknowthat?”
Goodquestion.MingandIhaveworkedhereforsevenyears.I’veneverevenheardofMcAllister

Stonewall.“SowardscalledhimMacbuthisnameisMcAllister.”

“Sexy,”Mingsays.“He’ssortadreamy,right?Isawthatshoemove.Wow.”
“Yeah,Iguess.IwonderifHeathknowshisbrotherishere?”Ipulloutmyphoneandstarttexting.

Ellie:Justmetmyfuturebrother-in-law.Whydidn’tyoutellmeyouhadabrother?Icantotally

picturehimwithusinthedreamhouseatChristmas.Sixbedroomsmeanswecanhaveatonofguests
fortheholidays.Ibethisgirlfriendissomeuptightmodel,right?:)

MingisstilltalkingwhenIpresssendonthatmessage.Iwonderhowonefamilycanstandtohave

twobeautifulsons?StonewallSeniorisalsoveryhandsome,evenforanolderman.AndMrs.
Stonewallisstunning.Theycomefrommoney.It’sveryobviousshe’shadthebestofeverythingher
wholelife.

Ellie:Doyouhaveanymorebrothers?Ican’tevenimaginehowperfectyourfamilyphotosare.

Yourbrotherisalmostashotasyou.

Actually,IthinkthenewbrotherishotterthanHeath.Maybeevenwayhotter.He’stallerforone.

Andhishairislighter.Ithinkhiseyeswereblue,too.Heathhasdarkeyes.McAllisterStonewallhasa
chiseledsquarejaw,whileHeathhasamoreroundedone.AndMcAllisterhasperfectlygroomed
facialhairwhileHeath’slookslikehejustforgottoshave.

Ithinkbothcanbehot,but…yeah.Wow.Imightbelustingovermyfuturebrother-in-law.
“AreyoudaydreamingaboutMr.Perfectagain?”Mingasks.
BeforeIcananswerIgetaninter-officemessageonmyphonefrommyboss,Mr.Sowards.

Boss:Executiveconferenceroom.Immediately.

“What’shesay?”Mingasks,leaningintomyspacetoseemyphone.
“Meetingintheexecutiveconferenceroom?Thatwasn’tontheschedule.”
“NeitherwasMr.FancyJet.Maybeit’sgotsomethingtodowithhim?”
“Maybe,”Imutter.“Ormaybeit’sgotsomethingtodowiththefactthatIalmostkilledBrutusthe

rockstarthismorning.”

Ithinkthesecondoneisfarmorelikely.

Imakemywayovertothetraindepot,whichisthroughthebackoftheofficeanddownan

escalatoraboutahundredfeet.Overhereatthehangarthestationisprettysmall.There’stwolong
benchesmadeoutofstone,avendingmachinefilledwithwaterandsoda,andthedigitalcompany

announcementboard.Youhavetotellthetraintostophereifyouneedaride,soIpushthecallbutton
andstandinfrontoftheannouncementboardtowait.

Hmmm.There’sabigwrite-upabouttheAsianofficeontheboard.NomentionofHeaththough.

Strange.WhenhedisappearedtwomonthsagoItookitalittlepersonally.Afterall,we’veknown
eachotherforsevenyears.HewasajuniorexecutivebackwhenIfirststarted.Webecamegood
friendsthatyearandhavebeencloseeversince.

Wejustneverdated.Nevergotaroundtoit.ButIknowhe’stheperfectoneforme.Itjustsucks

thathegotsentawaysosuddenly.

Whichishowthetextingstarted.Hedoesn’tgettheinter-officemessages.Iknewthatrightaway

becauseeverytimeIsentone,thenotificationsaidundeliverable.ButImissedhim.Iwasusedto
textingatleastonceaday,evenifitwasjustforwork-relatedupdates.NowItexthimmyPinterest
boards.Littlethingsthatcatchmyeyeinthenews.PicturesIfindonsocialmedia.

MingthinksI’mobsessed,butI’mnot.It’ssortalikeadiary.
Thelowhumoftheelectrictrainbringsmeoutofmythoughtsandwhenitstopsandthedoor

slidesopen,Istepin,smilingatabouthalfadozenotherpassengersontheirwaytotheAtrium.

TheAtriumisthemainbuildingwherealltheexecutive,managerial,andcreativestaffwork.It

lookslikethenameimplies—agiantseven-storybuildingwithaglassroof.WhenStonewallSenior
startedthiscompanytwentyyearsagothebuildingwasinanotherpartoftheTechCenter.Onecloser
todowntown.Butabouttenyearsagotheymovedtothisbuildingandeveryyeartheworking
environmentgetsmoretrendy.Youknow,oneofthosecompanieswhereeveryonewantstowork.

Stonewallhasbeenvotedbestplacetoworkinthewholecountryforeightyearsrunning.They

haveatonofamenitiesforemployees.Evenadaycarecenterforworkingfamilies.There’sa
Montessorischooljustoffcampustoo,andonlyStonewallkidscanapplytogothere.

AndtheyarebigoncharityhereatStonewall.Everymonthwehaveacharitydriveofsomesort.
TheAtriumisthefirststopaftertheairport,sothedoorsopenandIgetoffwithtwootherpeople.

It’sanotherbelow-groundstation,twentytimesasbigastheoneIjustleft.Andtheescalatorrideupis
notaslong.Fromdownhereyoucanseestraightupintothemainlobbyandthere’shugepalmtrees
andaviewofthewaterfallassoonasyougettothetop.

Thehigh-levelcreativeswhoworkintheAtriumdon’thaveoffices.Everyoneinthisbuildingis

assignedatablet,alaptop,andaphone,justlikeme.Therearetonsofbrightly-coloredworkstations
scatteredthroughoutthebuilding.Somearepicnictables,somearesmalllivingrooms—couchesand
chairs.Someareevenhammocks.Idon’tknowifworkingintheAtriummakespeoplemorecreative
ornot,butit’snice.Cheeryandstuff.

Obviously,I’mnotacreative.Ihavenoinputintotheday-to-daymarketingofthecompany,Ijust

scheduleguestsandescortthemaroundthecampus.

ThemainattractionsintheAtriumarethewaterfallandtheslide.Yes,weareoneofthoseplaces.

Agiantseven-storyslide.Actually,wehavefourslides.Onethatreallydoestwistallthewaydown
fromthetopfloor,butothersonfloorsthree,four,andfive.

WhenpeoplecomefortoursIshowthemtheslideandofferafreeridedownfromseven.Noone

hasevertakenmeuponit.JustonceI’dliketoseethemsittheirassdownonthatslideandgiveita
whirl.

Thewaterfallistwo-sided.Itsnakesallthewaydownfromthesixthfloorandoneithersideofit

arebanksofglasselevators.

That’swheremyattentionisrightnow,becauseMr.FancyJetMcAllisterislaughinginagroupof

executives.Includingmyboss,Mr.Sowards.JenniferSluts-aroundisleaningintohimlikeshewants
tolickhisface.MartyBrown-noseisdoingthatfakelaughthinghealwaysdoeswhenhe’ssucking
up.AndClarisseTakes-all-the-creditislookingathiscrotchassheplayswithherhair.Jesus.Can

theybeanymorestupid?IrollmyeyesasIhidebehindalargepalmtree.Theyarestandingrightin
frontoftheelevator,soIslinkmywayovertothestairs.

Itakeapictureofthemastheystandthere,mycamerashuttersettosilent.I’msortofastalker

aroundhere.IhaveaspecialprivatePinterestboardwhereIcollectgossipaboutmyco-workers.I
don’tsendthattoanyone,notevenPerfectHeath.

Theelevatoropensandtheyallmaketheirwayin.Ihoofitupthestairstothesecondfloor,my

eyesgluedonMr.FancyJetashegetsintheelevator.InstinctivelyIholdmyphoneupandsnapa
picturejustasheturnsandlooksatme.

OhmyGod,hesmiled.Ithinkhesawme.Ilookawayrealfastandthenstartclimbinguptothe

thirdfloor,checkingthepictureonmyphone.

Nah,hewasn’tlookingatme.Somethinginmydirection,butnotme.
Butholyhell,heisdamnhot.Istareattheimageallthewayuptotheseventhfloor,bywhichtime

I’msweatingmorethanwhenIwascartingBrutusaroundinthegolfcart.

Mr.Sowardsiswaitingoutsidetheexecutiveconferenceroomandassoonasheseesmeleavethe

stairs,hestartswalkinginmydirection.

Whatcanthisbeabout?Please,please,pleasedon’tbeaboutBrutus.
“MissHatcher,justexactlywhatwereyouthinkingthismorning?”
“I’msosorry.IforgotIhadapeanutbuttersandwichinmypurse.”
“What?”
“What?”
Hescowlsatme.“Idon’tknowwhatthatmeans”—heholdsupahand—“andIdon’tcare.I’m

talkingaboutthatwhole‘Excuseme,excuseme’thingyouweredoingoutonthetarmac!”

“Oh,well,Ididn’tknowwhohewas.Isawthejetanditwasn’tonmyschedule—”
“MissHatcher,theCEOofStonewallEntertainmentdoesn’thavetoclearhisschedulewithyou.”
“No,ofcoursenot.ImistookhimforaguestandIdidn’twanthim—”
“Well,don’tdoitagain.”SowardsstaresatmeuntilInod.
“No,sir,Iwon’t.”Ismileandwait.“Is…isthatallyouneeded?CanIgonow?”
“Go?”heasks.“No,MissHatcher.We’rehavinganexecutivemeeting.WhichiswhyIcalledyou

uptotheexecutiveconferenceroom.”

“Executivemeeting?ThenwhydoIhavetobethere?Youguysneverinvitemetothemeetingsup

hereonseven.”

“Gositdown,MissHatcher.”
Sowardswalksoffanddisappearsintotheconferenceroom.Myeyesfollowhimandthenreston

Mr.FancyJetasheappearsfrommyleft.Hestopsandsmilesatme.“Didyouatleastgetmein
focus?”heasks.

Oh,myGod,hedidseemetakethatpicture.
“Shallwe?”heasks,wavingahandtowardstheopenconferenceroomdoor.Inodandwalk

brisklyintotheroom.It’sglassonallfoursidesandthedoorsaren’tregulardoorsbecausethatis
waytoomundaneforafuncompanylikeStonewall.Theyareslidersthatfoldopen,thekindyousee
atbeachhouseswhereawallofwindowssuddenlyslidesbackandthewalldisappears,openingtothe
outside.

OncethefoldingdoorsareclosedIamanervousmess.WhyamIhere?I’mnotreallyan

executive.IcancountononehandthenumberofexecutivemeetingsI’vebeento,andthosewereall
majorrestructuringchanges.I’mmyowndepartmenthere.Irunthewholething.IhaveMingasmy
assistant,butwhentheygaveherthoseduties,theyjustaddedtohercurrentITsalary.Soreally,Ihave
nooversightoveranyonebutmyselfandtheguestsIescortfromstudiotostudio.

Theconferencetableseatsten.McAllisterStonewallisatthehead,justinfrontofthedigital

whiteboard,andalleightchairsalongthelonglengthofthetablearealsotakenupbyother
departmentheads.

Theonlychairleftistheend.Islinkintothesoftleatherandleanback—toofar—andthenhaveto

scrambletoregainmybalanceasItrytolooklikeImeanttodothat.“Wow,”Isay,smilingatallthe
gawkinglooks.“Arethesenew?They’reverycomfortable.”

“OK,”McAllistersays.“Ready?”
Everyonenodsandaffirmswithachorusofyesesjustastheshadescomedownandtheroom

goesdark.Avideostartsplayingonthedigitalwhiteboardandeveryonesettlesin,tabletsinhandto
takenotes.

ShouldItakenotes?
Igetmytabletoutandsetmyphoneonthetablebesideit.
Thevideoisabout…hellifIknow.Ethics?Missionstatement?Areorganization?Idon’tknow.I

havenothingtodowithanyofthis.I’mthecelebrityconcierge.

Idomybesttopayattention,butthechairissocomfy,andtheroomisdark.Istarttodriftoff.
Jesus,Ellie.Getittogether.Youareinanexecutivemeeting,forPete’ssake.TheCEOissitting

rightinfrontofyou.

Hey,therelaxedvoiceinmyheadsays.Hisbackistome.HewillneverknowifIjustclosemy

eyes—

Sowardsclearshisthroatnexttome,andeveryoneglancesoveratus.
Iforcemyselftostayawake.
ThreeminuteslaterI’mdozingagainsoIlooktomyright.Clarisseistakingnotesonhertablet.

SoIflipopenthecoveronmineanddothesame.

Newpage.Heading.ExecutiveMeeting.Wednesday—Iglanceattheclock—sevenforty-five.
Videoabout…employees.Newhealthbenefits.Reorganizationchart.
See,Iknewit.That’stheonlyreasontheycallmeuphere.Inevergetreorganized.
ThenInoticemynamehasmovedontheflowchartonthescreen.“Hey,”Isayoutloud.“DidI

justgetreorganized?”

FancyJetlooksoverhisshoulderandsmilesatme.
“Later,MissHatcher,”Sowardsgrowlstomyleft.
“Sorry,”Iwhisper.Bynowthechartisoffscreen,soIcan’teventakeanote.Iglanceoverat

Clarisse’stablet,butsheshieldsitfrommewithherarmlikewe’retakingatestinfifthgrade.

Bitch.
IopenupPinterestandeasemytabletupslightlysoIcantakesomepictures.Snap.IcatchBob

Moranpickinghisnoseandalmostlaughoutloud.Clarisseisstillguardinghertabletlikeachild.
Snap.JenniferSluts-aroundisstaringatMcAllisterlikeshewantstoeathim.

And…McAllisterisofftothesidenowsohecangetabetterviewofthevideo,soIseehimin

profile.God,that’sperfect.IsnapaboutadozenofhimandthenmakeanewboardcalledMyHot
Brother-in-Law.

IalmostgiggletomyselfasIaddhisphotosandsendHeathatext.

Ellie:Havingameetingwithoutyou.Betyouwishyouwerehere.:)Send.

I’mjustabouttoaddcaptionstoallthepictureswhensomeone’sphonevibrates.
Oh,hell.IlookoveratSowards,whoisabouttofumeaboutnotturningoffaphone,whenwe

bothrealizeMcAllisteristheguiltyparty.

SowardssimmersdownandIgobacktomytabletsoIcancontinuemydelusionallifeasHeath’s

girlfriendandreportonwhat’shappening.

Ellie:Whydidn’tyoutellmeyourbrotherwassohot?Send.

Isnickeratthat,glanceupattheboringcorporatevideo,thengobacktomyPinterestboard.I

needsomehotgifstoadd.Idoasearchforhot,sexykissingandhavetofanmyself.

Iaddaboutadozenofthemwithcaptionslike,FancyJetMaccankissmelikethisanytimehe

wants.And,Ilikethechokemoveonthisone.Takenotes,Heath.

AlaughactuallyescapesmylipsandSowardsgivesmeakickunderthetablejustasMcAllister ’s

phonevibratesagain.

Ilookupandcatchhimsmilingatsomething.Well,isn’tthatspecial.I’mgladheisallowedtoget

funnytextsduringthisveryimportantexecutivemeetingwhiletherestofusareexpectedtoactlike
wegiveacrap.

ItextHeathagain.

Ellie:Isyourbrotheravailable?Imightneedtoreplaceyouasmyboyfriendsinceyouhaven’t

answeredmytextsinmonths.Send.

McAllister ’sphonevibratesagain,andnoweveryoneisstartingtonoticehe’snoteventryingto

payattentiontothemovie.Figures.

Ellie:Yourbrotherissettingaverybadexampleintoday’sexecutivemeeting.Maybesomeone

shouldtellhimtoturnhisphoneoffandpayattentiontothisstupidmovieliketherestofus.Send.

IgobacktomyPinterestboardandaddafewmorepicsofhim.Oneashesmilesdownatthe

phoneandthenanotherashegetsavibratingreplyandlooksrightatme.

Jesus.Ihopehedoesn’tknowwhatI’mdoing.Ipretendtowatchthemovieforafewsecondsuntil

McAllisterturnshisattentionbacktohisphone.Itvibratesagain.

Ellie:HisphonewouldgivemeanorgasmifIsliditbetweenmylegs,that’showmuchit’s

vibratingrightnow.Send.

FancyJet’sphonevibratesonemoretime,justasanincomingmessageappearsonmyphone.

Heath:Icanmakearrangementsforthehotbrothertogetyouoffwithhisvibratingphoneifyou

want.

Istareatit.Wait,whatjusthappened?Myheartstartstorace.Hedidn’tjusttextmeback.Tellme

hedidnotjusttextmeback.

Ellie:Heath?Areyougettingmymessages?Send.

Andthat’swhenInotice…thelittlenotificationthatusuallysaysundeliveredsaysdelivered.

Ellie:Oh,myGod,Heath.I’msosorry.Ididn’tthinkyouweregettingmymessages.

Iscrollupandthepanicstartstosetin.Theyallsaydelivered.Allofthem.
McAllister ’sphonevibratesagainandIlookstraightathimthistime.

No.
No.No.No.Thisisnotpossible.

Heath:Heisn’t.Iam.

McAllisterlooksstraightatmeandhewinks.“Messagereceived,Ellie.”

ChapterFour-Ellie

Islapmyhandsdownonthetableandstandupsofast,myluxuriousleatherofficechairgoes

slidingbackwardsuntilitcrashesintothewall.

“MissHatcher!”mybossyellsashestandsup.
Ilookaroundatmypeersandeverybitofmybodygoeshotasallninefacesstarebackatme.
“AreyouOK,MissHatcher?”McAllisterasksfromtheotherendofthetable.He’sgotasmug

lookonhisface.

Idon’tknowwhatjusthappened,butIneedtogetoutofhere.Itakeadeepbreathandsmile.“Ijust

remembered.Ihave…”Ihavewhat?Shit.MyheartstartsracingandIswallowhard.“Ihave…”

“Youhavesomethingtotellus,Ellie?”JenniferSluts-aroundasks.Andthefunnythingis,Ithink

she’stryingtobehelpful.“Reorganization,maybe?”Jenniferthrowsmeoneofthosequirky
sidewayssmilesgirlfriendsdowhenthingsaregoingterriblyawry.

“Um,yeah,Imean…”Istammer.
“MissHatcher,”Mr.Sowardssays.“Whateveryouhavetosaycanwait.Sitdown.Now!”
Ilookaround,silentlypleadingforhelp,butwhenmyeyeslandonMcAllisterStonewall,hesays,

“Yes,Ellie,telluswhat’sgotyouallhotandbothered.”

Ishakemyhead.Nope.Nope.Notgonnadothis.I’mquittingtodayandI’mnotgoingoutasthe

girlwhowassextingthebossduringameeting.

“I…Iquit.”
Everyonegasps.
“Youdonotquit,MissHatcher,”McAllistersays.“You’vebeenworkinghereforsevenyears.

Youjustgotapromotionandanewoffice.Sono,you’renotquitting.Sitdownandwecandiscuss
thisissuelater.”

“What?”Wherethehelldoeshegetoff?AndI’mnotdiscussingshitwithhimlater.“No,Ihaveto

go.I’msorry.Iforgottoturnoffmyovenathome.Iwasbakingcookiesthismorning…”Baking
cookies?Jesus,Ellie,stepitthefuckup.Donotlethimchaseyououtofhereandmakethesepast
sevenyearsajoke.“Imean,nottheoven,Ihavea…adentalappointment.Mytooth,”Isay,tappingon
myfronttooth.“Needsarootcanal.Andmycholesterolishigh,soIneedpre-treatment.And…and
thenIhaveto…Ihave…”

“Ellie,”McAllistersaysinasternvoice.“Sitdown.We’lldiscussitalllater.Noneofthatistrue

andyouknowit.”

Imoveawayfromthetableveryslowly.LikeMcAllisterisalionandhemightpounceandeatme

upatanymoment.Iusethebackofmyboss’chairtosteadymyselfasIinchtowardstheconference
roomdoors.

McAllisterstandstoo,andhe’scomingatmequick.Ipanicandmakeabreakforit.Ireachforthe

handleonthedoorsthatwillswingthemwideopenjustasMcAllisterStonewallgripsmyarmand
thwartsmyescape.

“Tampon!”IscreamasloudasIcan.
McAllisterletsgo,hishandsome,perfectly-groomedfacefilledwithconfusion.“What?”
“Tampon!”Iyellagain.“Ineedatampon,OK?Ididn’twanttohavetosayitoutloud,butyou

forcedme,Stonewall.SoIwillseeyoupeople…whenever.GetoutofmywaybecauseIquitandI
needatampon!”

Themagicword.Itdoesthetrick.EveryoneintheroomexceptMcAllistereruptsinlaughter.But

whatever,I’mouttathere.Idashacrossthetopfloorheadingtowardstheelevator.

“EllieHatcher!”McAllisterStonewallyells.“Stoprightwhereyouare!”
Oh,myGod.Thewholefuckingplaceislookingatme.Thereareatleastfiftycreativesworking

onthisflooralone.AndwhenIlookdownatthepeopleonthesixthfloorbelow,therearedozensof
faceslookinguptoo.PeoplestartwhisperingloudlyasItrynottofallapart.

“Ellie!”Stonewallsaysagain.“Wait!”
Ilookattheelevator,thenthestairs.Buttheonlywayoutofherewithoutaconfrontationinfront

ofahundredpeopleis…theslide.

Ibreakforit,almosttwistinganankleasIrun.Stonewall’sfeetthunderonthemarbletiledfloors

behindmeandIknowhe’sclose.He’sgoingtocatchmeandthereisnowayinhellI’mtalkingtothat
maneveragain.Igettotheslidejustashisfingertipsbrushagainsttheflutterysilkofmyblouse
sleeve.ButIgrabthehandleasIswingmyfeetandlegsin,andthenIwhooshmyselfintotheseven-
storyslide.

Iscream,thenlaughintriumphasImakemyescape.It’sfastandexhilarating.Thrillingeven.

WhyhaveIneverdonethisbefore?Thefirsttwistcomesup,andIslowslightly.“Whooo!”Iyellin
theslide.“Hahahahaha!”

WhenIcomeoutofthesecondtwist,it’sasteepdropandIpickupspeed.
That’swhenmyskirtstartstorideupmythighs.Mylegsareallsweatyfromtheembarrassment

andconfrontation.

No.No,no,no.Youcannotgetstuckinthis—
ButIslowdownasthefrictionbetweenmyskinandtheslidestartstohindermyescape.The

inclineisn’tassteepnoweither.Sothere’snochanceofbuildingmomentum.Imustbenearthe
groundfloor.

AfewsecondslaterIcomeoutofanotherturnandI’mslowingdownsofast,Ihavetostart

scootingforward.

Shit.Whyme?Whycouldn’tthishappenonPencilSkirtMonday?Apencilskirtwouldnotride

up.

Prettysoonthereit’sobviousthatthereisnohopeofslidingdowntherestoftheway,soItakeoff

myshoesandthrowthemdowntheslideaheadofme,thencontortmybodyandwigglearounduntil
I’mfacefirstonmyhandsandknees.

AndIcrawl.
Icrawlforward,flingmyshoes,thencrawlsomemore.IcalculatehowlongI’vebeenintheslide

andcomeupwithnomorethanaminute.I’mgonnamakeit.Icrawlfaster,throwingmyshoes
throughthelastturn.TheygotumblingoutofsightasIpickupmypace.Icanseethelightattheend
ofthetunnel.Literally.Iamsecondsawayfromfreedomwhenapairoflegscomeintoview.

No.Please.
Istopcrawlingsofastandmakemywaytowardstheendoftheslidewherethetopcutsawayand

yes.

Thereheis.Waitingforme.MyJimmyChoosdirectlyinfrontofhim.Myprettypinkclutch,

tablet,andphoneinonehandasheextendstheotherouttowardsme.

“Areyouquitefinishednow,MissHatcher?”hesays,ascowlonhisface.
Itakeadeep,deepbreathasIfinishmycrawlandaccepthishandtohelpmeout,becausemy

otherchoicewillprobablylandmeonmyface,assintheair.Andmyskirtisstillverymuchbunched
upnearmyhips.

Hishandgripsmine,sendingashockoffearthroughmybody,andsteadiesmeasIgettomyfeet.

HewaitsinsilenceasIadjustmyskirtandslipmyshoesonmyfeetsohe’snottoweringoverme.
Notasmuchanyway.

“Thankyou,Mr.Stonewall,”Isay,grabbingmyclutchanddevicesfromhishand.“Thankyou,”I

repeat,becauseIhavenootherwords.“Nowgoodbye.”

“No,”hesays,bothofhisarmscorrallingmyupperbodytopreventmysecondattemptat

escaping.“Thisiscompletelyridiculousbehavior,MissHatcher.Myofficenow.”

It’snotaquestion,it’sacommand.Andthatjustpissesmeoff.“WhatpartofIquitdon’tyou

understand?I’mnotgoingtoyouroffice,I’mgoinghome.Nowgetyourhandsoffmeandgetoutof
myway.”

Ishovehimaside,takeadeepbreath,notlookingatanyofthehundredsofemployeeswhohave

nowgatheredtowatchwhat’shappening,andwalkofftowardstheescalatorthatleadsdowntothe
trainstation.

IlookdownasIapproachtheescalator,hopingagainsthopethatitwillbeempty,butthere’sat

leastadozenpeoplelookingupatme.

Shit.
Iveerofftowardsthestairsthatwilltakemedowntothetransportgarage.Iwilljusthijackagolf

cartanddrivemyselfbacktothehangar.IhavefullaccesstothekeysthankstoBrutus.

Igrabthehandle,swingthedooropen,andleavethatbastardofabossbehind.

ChapterFive-Mac

IstandtheredumbfoundedasEllieHatcherwalksoffanddisappearsthroughthedoorthatleads

downtothegarage.

Everyoneislookingatmeandeventhoughitshouldbeimpossibleforanofficebuildingthat

hostsmorethansevenhundredemployeestobesilent,itfeelsvery,verysilent.“Getbacktowork,”I
sayloudly.Everyoneturnsawayandpretendstobebusy.

Istridetowardsthedoor,swingitopen,andfollowEllieHatcherintothedimstairwell.
“Oh,shit,”shesaysdownbelow.“Goaway!”
She’scrying.Icantellfromthehitchinhervoice.“MissHatcher,”IsayasIstepdownandshe

comesintoview.Herfaceandeyesareredandshehasthebiggestfrownonherface.Humiliated.She
lookshumiliated.

Well,thatinnervoiceofminesays.Sheaskedforit.
Shedid.Thisisnotmyfault.Howisthismyfault?I’mnottheonewho’sbeentextingdirtyoffers

ofsexandsendingweirdPinterestboardsfilledwiththedelusionallifeshemostcertainlydoesnot
havewithHeath.SheadmittedinthatexchangeupstairsthatshefiguredHeathwasn’tgettinghertexts.
Andhewasn’t.He’sinChinawherethecompanyphonesdonotwork.Iturnedthephoneoffjust
beforeSeniorsenthimoffandlandedmehere,runningthewholecompany.

“MissHatcher,”Irepeat.“Willyoupleasecalmdown.I’mnottheenemyandthisisnotmyfault.

Nooneaskedyoutoquit.Andnoonecaresthatyoumadeafoolofyourself—”

“Fuckyou!”sheyells.“Justfuckyou!Youwerereadingmyprivatemessagestoyourbrother,Mr.

Stonewall.”

Iamtakenabackatheroutburst.Pissedoffaboutit,actually.“Don’ttalktomethatway,”Igrowl.
“Orwhat?”shechallenges.“You’regonnafireme?Toolate.Ialreadytoldyou,I’mout.And

don’tthinkyou’rethereason,either,Mr.FancyJet.You’renot.Iwasplanningonquittingbeforeyou
evershoweduptoday.”

“Well,that’sunfortunate,”Isay.
“Why?”sheasks.“Noonehererespectsme.AndI’mnotsurewhatthatwholepromotionthingis

about,butit’saboutfiveyearstoolate.”

“That’snotwhy.”Itcomesoutunexpectedly.It’snotwhy,butnormallyIdon’tjustblurtoutthe

truthtowomen.

“Thenwhy?”shedemands.Shewipesthewetnessfromunderhereyesasshetriestoregainher

composure.

“God,”Isay,lookingherupanddown.Herwhiterufflyblouseisallaskew.Icanseeherlacy

pinkbra.Shenoticeswheremyeyeshavelandedandlooksdown.

“Oh,dammit,canthisdaypossiblygetanyworse?”Sheundoesthesilkytiethatissupposedto

keephershirttogetherandtriestostraightenupherwardrobemalfunction.Ican’tstopwatchingher
tietheswathoflaceactingasabeltintoabow,sowhensheliftshergazeupfromhertaskshecatches
me.“Seenenough?Pervert,”shemuttersunderherbreath.

“I’mnotsurethatgarmentiswork-appropriate.Ifone’sclothingcan’twithstandatripdownthe

slidewithoutcomingoff,perhapsoneshouldconsideramoreconservativeapproachtofashion?”

I’mprettyproudofmyprofessionalism.AlsothatIkeptastraightface.
“Well,youdon’thavetoworryaboutme,Mr.FancyJet.I’malreadypartofyourpast.”
Goddammit.Itakeadeepbreath.“Look,MissHatcher,I’msorryyouhadafewembarrassing

momentsupthere—”

“Afew—”Hermouthhangsopenincredulously.“Foryourinformation,Mr.Stonewall”—she

sneersmyname—“Iwasnotembarrassed.Iwashumiliated.There’sabigdifference.Andyouarethe
personwhohumiliatedme.”

“Youweretextingmeduringanexecutivemeeting.”Wherethehelldoesshegetoffblamingher

behavioronme?“Andwhilewe’reassigningblame,youwereusingyourphoneforcompletely
inappropriatesexualencounters.”

“Sexual—”Iseemtobeabletorenderherspeechlessprettyeasily.“Thatwasnot—”
“Really?”Iinterrupt.“Really?”Ilaughthewordthistime.“I’mprettysureanyoneIaskwouldsay

thosegifsyousendofmenpawingwomen—chokingthemastheykissed—crosstheprofessional
line.”

Itwasprettyhotthough.I’dliketopressmypalmagainstherthroatandkissthehelloutofher

myself.SlidemyhandupherthighandslipmyfingertipsunderthosepinklacyunderwearIgota
goodlookatbackinthelobby.

EllieHatcherissuddenlysilent.Shechewsonamanicuredpinkfingernailasshethinksthisover,

andmustdecideI’mright,becauseshepursesherplumplipsandcrossesherarmsinfrontofher
chest.Herdesignershoebeginstotapontheconcretefloor.“Didyoureadeverything?”Shedoesn’t
lookatme,juststaresdownatherfeet.

“Everything.”
“Oh,God.Sincewhen?”MissHatcherlooksupatme,hereyeswide.“Imean,Iknowallthe

messagessaidundelivered.Sohowthehelldidtheysuddenlybecomedelivered?”

“HeathhadtomailmethephonebackfromChina.Heforgottoleaveitandweneededhis

contacts.Soitwaspowereddownforafewweeks,butassoonasIpowereditbackup,allyour
messagescamethrough.”

“Holyshit,”shewhispers,pinchingthebridgeofhernoselikeshe’sgettingamigraine.
“Yousaidsomeveryinterestingthings,MissHatcher.”
“Don’t,”shestarts.“Idon’twanttotalkaboutit.”
Istaredownhershirt.Iknowit’sadickmovesinceshe’snotevenpayingattention,butthatpink

braisdrivingmecrazy.Shefixedtheshirt,butit’sfallingbackopenagain.Isitmyfaultshe’s
flashingmesomelace?ShouldInotlook?

Whatkindofdumbasswouldn’tlookatagirllikethis?Andshit,thosetexts.Jesus.Ireallydidn’t

pictureherlookingso…so…fuckingsweet.SomeofthetextsshewassendingHeathwouldmake
ChristianGreyblush.Thiswomanwiththepinkpanties,conservativeskirt,andalmostnomakeupto
speakofmighthavethedirtiestmindI’veevercomeacross.ThethingsshesaidtoHeath.

Iwanttokissyourcockwithmyprettylips,thenswallowyouwholeasyouspillyourcomedown

mythroat.

Whosaysthat?
Andthen,thereallyconfusingthingwas,she’dsendHeathpicturesofahouseforsaleoverinthe

’burbsontheothersideoftheairportandtalkaboutgettingapuppy.AnOldEnglishSheepdog,tobe
exact.

It’salmostlikeshe’sgotasplitpersonality.Orshe’soneofthoseclosetkinks.Hell,Iwonderif

Heathusedtotakehertosexclubsorsomething?

“Arewedonetalking?”shesays.“IneedtomeetAndrewMancooutonthetarmacintenminutes.”
IstareatEllie’smouthasshetalks,imaginingmycockslippingpastherlips.Howwethertongue

wouldbeasitslidupanddownmyshaft.IcanalmostfeelthereliefasIcomethewaysheasked.

Myhandactsonitsownaccord.Onesecondit’sperfectlystillbymyside,thenextit’swrapped

aroundherwaist.Mypalmlooksbignexttohersmallbody.Mythumb’sonherhipboneandmy
fingersaresplayedacrossthetopofoneasscheek.

“Whatareyou—”
Ikissher.Ikissherliketheguyinthatgifshesentmeafewminutesago.Myotherhandpalms

herthroatasIgrabherassandpressherhipsupagainstmyrock-hardcock.

HowthehelldidIgethardsofast?
Sheputsupasmallfight.Butinmydefense,it’saverysmallfight.Herlipspresstogetherandher

handsflyuptomychestandpush,butitjustdrivesmeevencrazier.

IknowIshouldstop,butjustasI’mabouttobackoffandapologize,hermouthopens.Mytongue

slidesinassheteasesmewithhers.Ireachforhersilkblouseandpullitapart,exposingthepretty
pinkbraasherflimsytieholdingthekimonoshirttogetherunravelsuntiltheentirefrontishanging
wideopen.

“Iwantthis,”Ihearmyselfsayingintohermouth.AndthenIgrabthesidesofherbraandyank

thecupsdown,exposinghernipplestothechilledair.Ipushthesilkyshirtdownhershoulders,
lettingitdroptothefloorinapuddleoffabric,andthenridherofthebrabyrippingthefabricso
hard,thehooksgivewayanditslidesdownherarmstojoinherblouse.

“Yeah,”Imoan,squeezingbothherbreastsasIcontinuetokissher.“Youlikeitrough,don’tyou,

MissHatcher?”

“Idon’t,”shesays.“Idon’tusually.”
Itakethatasayesandgettoworkhikingherskirtupherthighs.Iliftherlegandsay,“Takeout

mycock.Iwantyourmoutharoundit,Ellie.”TwofingersfindtheirwayinsideherwetpussyandI
pumpherafewtimes.Thismakesherthrowherheadbackandmoan.

Hersmallhandsunbucklemybeltandtugonthebuttonandzipperuntilherpalmwrapsaround

thefatgirthofmydick.Shegoesverystillasshelooksdownattheprizeinherhand.

Whydidshestop?Shit,don’tfuckingstop.“Squeezeit,Ellie,”Isay.Hereyesdartuptomeetmine

andshenodsasherhandsobey.

“Ah,”Isay.“Fuck,yeah.Harder.Squeezemeharder.”
Myattentiongoesbacktohermouthasmyfingersplaywithherpussy.Irubherinsmallcircles,

completelyavoidingherclitonpurpose.Islideonewetfingerbacktoherassholeandpress.She
mewsintomymouth,butdoesn’taskmetostop.SoIpushitinalittlemoreastwootherfingersenter
herpussy.“Doyouliketobefull?”Iask,stillkissingherbetweenwords.“WhenIgetyouinaproper
bedroomI’llshovemycockdownyourthroatandplaywithyourassandpussyandthenyouwillbe
completelyfull.Howdoesthatsound,MissHatcher?”

Shecomes.Herassandpussysqueezeagainstmyfingers.Hermusclesclampdownsohardasshe

bucksherspineandthrowsherheadback,Ihavetowrapmyfreehandbehindherwaisttokeepher
fromfallingover.

“Iwantyourlipswrappedaroundmycock,Ellie.Wrappedaroundsotightitfeelsbetterthanyour

pussy.”

Ipushonhershouldersuntilshegetsthehintanddropstoherknees.Shelooksupatme,hereyes

widewithsurprise.

Whyisshesurprised?Thisiswhatshewanted,right?MaybethemessagewastoHeath,butshe

can’tbeattachedtohim.Shehastoknowhe’stheultimateplayer.

Shemustlikebeingbossedduringsexfromherreaction.Buthell,shedidhershareoftelling

Heathwhatshewanted.Evenso,I’mhappytobossheraround.

Igrabherblondehairandgripittight,pushingherheadtowardsthetipofmycock.Shelicksher

lips,likeshecan’twaittogetmeinhermouth.Can’twaitto—

“Hello?”someonesaysfromabove.Theheavydooronthefloorabovesmacksclosedasheels

clickontheconcretelanding.

Elliestandsup,shockonherface.Shepicksupherblouseandhurriedlywrapsitaroundherself,

tyingtheswathoffabricactingasabeltbacktogether.

“Fuck,”Isay,shovingmyfullyharddickbackintomypantsandzippingbackup.Mybeltjingles

asthetappingofshoescontinuesdownthestairs.

IlookatEllie,butshe’snotpayinganyattentiontomeortheapproachingshoes.She’slookingat

herdestroyedbraontheground.

Webothreachforitatthesametimeandeachofushasonebrokenstrapinhand,tuggingliketwo

dogsfightingoverabone.

“Letgo,”shegrowlsthroughherteeth.
“Fuck,”Isayagain.Iwantedthatbra.ButIletgo.I’dbeonherlevelofcrazyifIhadafightover

whogetstotakeherruinedbrahomewhensomeoneisabouttocatchus.

“AsIsaid,Mr.Stonewall,I’mquitting.Myresignationwillbeinyourinboxthisafternoon

announcingmytwoweeks’notice.”

“What?Youcan’tquitnow,MissHatcher.”
“Hello?”thestrangevoicesays.
Ilookoverandseeatallred-headedwomaninaveryshortskirt,middle-aged,standingonthe

bottomstepofthestairs.She’sflashingmeahandinawaveandherthickeyelashesarebattingatme
inamusement.

AdoorslamsandwhenIlookover,Ellieisgone.
“Oh,ho,ho,”theredheadsays.“DidIinterruptsomething?”Shecovershermouthinsomekind

offakeoopsiemovefromaDorisDayflick,andthenwinksatme.

“Uh,no.Well,ifyoucallthat”—Iwavemyhandatthedoor—“crazybitchquittingsomething,

thenyes.Youdid.HowcanIhelpyou…Sorry,Idon’thaveyourname?”

“Ellie,”shesqueals.
Iturnandlookovermyshoulderatthedoor,wonderingwhyElliecameback.Butthere’snoone

there.

Iturnbacktotheredhead.“What?”
“Ellie,Mr.Stonewall.I’mEllieAbraham.YourbrotherHeathandI,we'reverygoodfriends.”She

givesmeawinkandthenadds,“IfyouknowwhatImean.ButImustsay,youarefarmorehandsome
thanheis.”

Wait.“YournameisEllietoo?”IpointatthedoortoindicatemyElliewhojustwalkedout.
“Oh,Iknow.She’snuts,right?Don’tassumeallofusElliesarethatway.So…isHeathcoming

backanytimesoon?Ireally,reallymissthefunweusedtohave.”

“I’msorry,MissAbraham,Ihaveworktodo.”Itakethestepsthreeatatimeandburstbackinto

thebustlingAtriumlobby.IpulloutHeath’sphoneasIjogupthestepstotheseventhfloorandopen
upthemessages.

Ellie:Look,didyouseethishouse?It’sonlyfifteenminutesfromtheTechCenter.Andnotraffic.

Wecouldtakesideroadsallthewayintoworkeachday.It’sperfect,right?

Ellie:Iwanttokissyourcockwithmyprettylips,thenswallowyouwholeasyouspillyourcome

downmythroat.

Theyaretwodifferentpeople.JesusfuckingChrist.Dream-HouseEllieandFuck-MeEllieare

twodifferentpeople.

WhathaveIdone?

ChapterSix-Mac

BythetimeIgetbackuptotheseventhfloor,I’veforgottenallaboutthemeeting.
Theglarescomingfrommyexecutiveteamthroughtheglasswallsoftheexecutiveconference

roomremindmequickenough.Shit.

IstraightenmytieasIwalkthroughthedoorsandslidethemclosedbehindme.“OK,wherewere

we?”Iscantheirfaces.They’realllookingatmelikeI’mapariah.EvenSowards,whodidn’tseemto
likeElliemuchbeforehermeltdown.

“IsEllieOK?”Jennifer,theCommunicationsDirector,asks.
“Um…”Shit.“I’msuresheis.”IgiveJenniferaweaksmile.“I’msurewhateverisbotheringEllie

willpassandshe’llbefine.Look,”Isay,hatingthefactthatI’mtheonewhohastodothis.Hatingthat
HeathisoffinChinasoIamforcedtodealwiththecompany.“Obviouslyallthesechangesare
happeningforareason.We’rerestructuring,butnotbecausewe’rehavingcapitalissuesor
unexpectedprofitreports.”

There’sanaudiblesighfromalleightofmytopteam.
“Butbecause…”God,I’msobadatthis.“Becausewe’reselling.”
Deadsilenceforacountofthree.Theneveryoneistalkingatonce.
“Parcelingitoffbydivision?”Jenniferasks.
“Whereistheorganizationchartforthat?”Sowardsasks.Histonetowardsmeismorelikethe

tonehehadwithEllieearlier.Impatient.

“Willwestillhavejobs?”Clarisseasks.
“Whoiscourtingthissale?”
“Doesyourfatherknowaboutthis?”
That’smyfavorite.Yeah,no.IthinkI’llselloffamulti-billion-dollarbusinesswithoutapproval.
“That’sallIhavetosaytoday,soifyou’llexcuseme,Ihaveworktodo.We’lltalkmoreas

informationcomesin.”

Iwalkoutthedoorsandturnlefttowardsmywingoftheseventhfloor.Ofcourse,itwon’thide

meforlong.Alleightofthepeopleinthatroomhaveofficesupheretoo.ButI’vedonewhatIcame
todo.

“Goodmorning,Mr.Stonewall,”acheerfulwomanwithlongblackhairandacream-colored

dresscallsoutasIapproachtheouteroffice.“I’mStephanie,”shesayswithasmile.“Andifyouneed
anythingwhileyou’rehere,justletmeknow.”

“WhereisthenewofficeforEllieHatcher?Iwastoldmyfatherpromotedherandshewasto

moveherofficeuptotheseventhfloorimmediately.”

“Oh,yes,”Stephaniesays.“Weonlyhadonespare.Well,”shecorrects.“Wedidn’thaveanyspare

offices,butHeath’sofficehadanannex,whichinventoryhasresuppliedwithsomethingthatshould
worktemporarily.UntilElliecanordersomethingto‘makeherhappy’.”Stephanie’sfingersdolittle
airquotesaroundthatlastpart.Imustlookpuzzledbecausesheadds,“Yourfather ’sinstructions.He
wantsherpamperedforonce.Again,hisexactwords.”

“Hmm.MyfatherhasasweetspotforEllieHatcher?”Why?She’sclearlycrazy.
“Oh,heloveshertodeath.Everyonedoes.”Stephanielaughs.“Sheissosweet.SheandHeath

wereclosetoo.”

“Thenwhyisherofficestillintheaviationmaintenancehangar?Infact,whythehellisshe

workingdowntheretobeginwith?”

“Um,well,”Stephaniesays,perplexed.“Logistics.Theguestsflyin,shegreetsthem,escortsthem

totheirappropriatestudios,andthenbringsthembacktotheirplane.”

“She’sgettingpaidanexecutivesalary?”Iask.“Tomatchherexecutivestatus?”
“Well,um,Ihavenoidea,”Stephaniesays.“I’mnotprivytosalaries.Butyourfatherwasalways

generoustohisemployees.AndElliewasbroughtinwhileshewasstillincollege.Ithinkyour
fatherswerefriends,right?”

It’smyturntobeperplexed.“Werethey?”JesusChrist,howdidIallowmyselftogetsoremoved

fromthefamilybusiness?

“Theywere,”Stephaniesayswithasmile.“AndITisstilldowninthemaintenancehangartoo.

ThatwasthefirstbuildingcompletedaftertheAtriumeightyearsago.Peoplejustsettlein,you
know?I’msureifElliewantedanewofficeshe’dhavegottenone.ButIdon’tthinkshe’sthatkindof
employee,Mr.Stonewall.”

“Youdon’tthinkshewantsthisoffice?”
“Oh,I’msureshe’llbethrilledwhensheseesit.Butshe’snotthetypeofgirltodemandthings.

Notthingslikeanofficewithaview,anyway.”

Iponderthisforamoment.“Doesithaveaview?”
Stephaniesmiles.“Averyniceview.Anditwillbereadythisafternoon.Wouldyoulikemeto

inviteherupandshowheraround?”

“No,”Isay,absentlylookingdownthroughthecourtyardtothewaterfallasitspillsoutoverthe

sixthfloor.“I’llhandleEllieHatcher.Thanks,Stephanie.IfyouneedmeI’llbeinmyoffice.”

Iwalktothedoorwithmynameonit,stilltryingtowrapmyheadaroundmynewlifeastheCEO

ofStonewallEntertainment.ThankGodmyofficeisnotmadeofglasslikeeverythingelsearound
here.Andmydeskisnotapicnictable,forfuck’ssake.

Iopenthedoor,stepin,andcloseitbehindme.
Thewindowismagnificent.Floortoceiling.Butatleastit’sgotaviewofthehillsandnotofthe

city.Ican’teventakeacityviewrightnow.IgetenoughofthatfromthepenthouseIwillcallhome
whileI’mhere.

Therollinghillsarebrightgreenanddottedwithcows.Thatmakesmesmile.TheTechCenteris

hugeandgrowingbiggereveryday.Butitwasanafterthought.Thedowntownareawasfartoo
crowdedtosupportthesprawlingcampusesofthemanytechcompaniesthatnowcallthecityhome.
Ourcampusaloneismorethanahundredandfiftyacres.Youcan’tgetthatinacity.Youhaveto
createitontheedgeofsomething.

Myfather ’swordsspilloverintomythoughts.ThiscampusishisdreamactualizedandnowI’m

walkingaway.It’snottheidealend,isit?

Myphonebuzzesinmypants,butwhenIreachintogetit,IrememberthatIhavetwophones

now.MineandHeath’s.It’sHeath’sphonethatisbuzzing.It’salwaysHeath’sphone.

Idon’tevenbotherunlockingthehomescreentoreadit.Ican’timagineit’sanythingimportant.

Justoneofthemany,manygirlsonhisdailyscheduleofinappropriatebusiness.

InsteadIsitatmylargeglassdeskandbringtheoversizedcomputermonitortolife,thendoa

searchforallwomenatStonewallnamedEllie.

Igetnohits.Whichisweird,sinceIknowdamnwellwehaveatleasttwoofthem.
MaybeEllieisshortforsomething.ItryEloise,becauseitwasmygrandmother ’snameandpops

intomyheadimmediately,andmyEllie’sfacepopsup.

EloiseHatcherisagraduateofsomeprivateCatholiccollegeintheMidwestI’veneverheardof.

Shehasaperfectsmileandashortbobhaircutinthisphoto,alotshorterthanitisnow.Andshe’s
wearingapalepinksweaterwithapearlbuttonatherthroat.

Jesus,canthatgirlbeanymoresweet?WhatexactlywasherrelationshipwithHeath?Werethey

dating?

ItmakesmesortofsicktopictureherwithHeath.
WehaveexactlyoneEloise.SowhoisthisotherEllie?Thedirtyone?Theonewhopractically

offeredtosuckmydickinthestairsjustmomentsafterEloiseHatchergotupoffherknees?

Ellen.ThereareseventeenEllens.ButEllenAbrahamistheonlyonewithredhair,fuck-meeyes,

andtitspitchedupsohighonherchest,hercleavageisshowinginheremployeeprofilepicture.

EllenAbrahamisintheemployeeoutreachdepartmentandrunstheinternalcommunications

network,reportingdirectlytoJenniferSandersfromthemeetingIjustleft.

Sheisnotmytypeatall.
NeitherisEloiseHatcher.ButwhileEllenAbrahamlikestowearherpersonalitylikeacoat,

EloiseHatcherlikestohidehers.Shehasnohobbieslisted.Ellen’semployeepagereadslikeadating
siteprofile.

Eloisehastwosentencestodescribeherself.Ienjoyhelpingpeople.Anddogs.
Iactuallylaughoutloud.Becausesheepdogs.ShehasbeensendingHeathpicturesofsheepdogs.

Whoownsasheepdogthesedays?Mostwomenwantlittledesignerpuppies.Thingsthatfitinpurses.
Livingaccessories.

Eloisewantsafarmdog.
Ishakemyhead.She’scapturedmyattentionforsure.AndeventhoughImistookherforEllen,

andeventhoughitwasEllen’sdirtymessagestoHeaththatsparkedthatinterest,thepearlbuttonat
herthroatisthereasonI’mstillthinkingabouthernow.Thatcrazyoutburstintheconferenceroom
waswayoverthetop,butnotinthewayEllen’scleavageshowinginheremployeephotois.Andthat
tripdowntheslide,holyshit.IthinkIwilllaughaboutthatforyears.Herskirtallbunchedupather
hips.Hershoescomingdowntheslideaheadofher.Thehandsandknees.

Fuck.
AndthenIrealizehowlongit’sbeensinceIgotakickoutofsomething.
MyphonebeepsandIpickitup.“Yes,”Isay.
“Mr.Stonewall?”Stephanieasksonthephone.“Mr.Lewisisheretoseeyou.”
“Thanks,sendhimin.”Ihangupthephoneandcloseoutoftheemployeeprofileprogram,then

stand,buttonmysuitcoat,andwalktothedoorjustasStephanieopensitandLewiswalksthrough.

Timetogetbacktothebusinessofdismantlingmyfather ’scompany,Iguess.
Ridiculousgirlswithpearl-buttonsweatersandoutrageousoutburstswillhavetowait.

ChapterSeven-Ellie

“Andrew!”Isay,hugginghimtightlywhenheembracesme.“Howhaveyoubeen?”Andrew

Mancoisatwenty-somethingformerchildstarwhonowheadsagiantmulti-million-dollarvirtual
realitycorporation.

“Ellie!”Andrewsayswarmlyaswebreakapart.“Fantastic,chick.Justfantastic.Ihavetotellyou,

thatadviceyougavemelastyearwasthebest.Idon’tknowwhatI’ddowithoutyou,Ells.Seriously.
You’vebeenthereformesinceIwassixteenandIdon’thaveenoughwordstothankyouforsticking
bymealltheseyears.”

“Oh,Andrew,”Isay,blushingslightly.“It’syourpotential.I’mjusttheonewhosawitfirst,that’s

all.”

Andrewstartsgatheringhisequipment,butIwavehimoff.“Leaveit,Andy,theguyswillbringit

overforyouandhelpyousetup.”

Welockarmsaswemakeourwayoffthetarmacanddowntothetrainstation.Ipushthecall

buttonasAndrewtalksamileaminuteabouthisnewventure.Hewasmessedupasateenager.And
whenhefirststartedcomingherewhenhewassixteenforinterviews,Ididn’tevenlikehim.Sucha
jerk.Andhiscareerasanactorwasalreadyover.I’veseenadozenchildstarscomethroughhere
overthepastsevenyearswhofellintothesametrap.Theythinkeverythingispermanent.Themoney,
thefame,theshows.Butit’snot.Youhavetoadjusttothetimes.Andthat’shardtodowhenyou’re
stillachildandnooneiswillingtotellyouthetruth.Nooneiswillingtodisruptthegravytrain
whentheyareridingdownthetrackswithyou.

Well,I’vehadmyshareoffightswithAndrewovertheyearswhenhecamethroughfor

interviewsandappearancesonthechildren’ssideofStonewallEntertainment.Andlastyearwehadit
outinabigway.Iforcedhimtoseethetruth.

WhythehellwouldakidwhograduatedfromMITatagetwentywithamastersinvirtual

engineeringwastehistimetryingtoreviveafailingactingcareer?Itwasover,Itoldhim.Thatpart
ofhislifewasoveranditwastimetostartanewone.

Heleftmadthatday,butsixmonthslaterhisstart-upcompany,VirtualVacations,wentpublic,

makinghimtheworld’snewestmulti-millionaire.

Hisactingcareerwasneverthatlucrative.
“Letmetellyou,Ellie,whatawildridesinceyousawmelast…”
Hetalksandtalks.Hismouthneverstopsmovingaswetakethetrainovertothetechstudios.It

occurstomehe’sneverbeentothisstudio.Alltheothertimeshe’scomeforinterviewsitwasfor
stuffrelatingtotheacting.Thechildren’snetwork.Theentertainmentshows.Butthisstudioisforthe
technews.

It’slikehe’sgraduatingtotheworldofgrown-upsrightbeforemyeyes.
Hisexpressionofawe,andexcitement,andwonderneverletsup.Evenwhenweexitthetrainand

weaveourwaythroughthetechbuilding,hestillhasmoretosay.Somuchtosay,infact,he
continuestalkingtomeallthewaythroughmakeupandtheyactuallyhavetotellmetostepbackoff
thesetastheysetuphismicrophone.

Ijustsmile.IfeellikeaproudoldersisterastheinterviewstartsandAndrewdemonstratesa

virtualrealityvacationtoafictionaltropicalbeach.SomeonepassesmeavisorandwhenIslipit
overmyheadhiscreationcomestolife.

Iactuallysqueal,makingallthreeinterviewerslaugh.Thecameraevenpanstometocatchmy

reactionforasplitsecondandtheyhaveafriendlylaughatmyexpense.

Well,mydaymight’vestartedoutwithalmostkillingarockstarandmakingafoolofmyselfin

frontoftheentireAtriumstaff,butallthatiswipedawayrightnow.

“I’mgladIcouldhelpyou,Andrew,”Isay,aswewalkbacktothetrain.“I’mthrilledyou’redoing

sowell.”

“Ellie,”hesaysaswestepontothetrain.“Youdidmorethanhelp.Yousetmeupforalifeof

happinessandfulfillment.Noonewantedtotellmethatmycareerasachildactorwasover.Noone
hadthegutstotellmetogotocollegesixyearsagowhenmylifewasfallingapart.Noonebutyou.
Yousavedmefromyearsofstruggle,depression,anddisappointment.Ioweyoueverything.”

“You’retoosweet,”Isay,pullinghiminforasisterlyhug.
“Theyinvitedmebacknextmonthwhenwelaunchthenewproduct,andItellyou,Ells,youwill

diewhenyouseehowgreatitis.Whatyoujustsawisnothing.I’munveilingsomethingevenbetter
thisweekendinVegas.”

“Oh,”Isay,chewingonmyfingernail.“Shit,Iwon’tbeherenextmonth,Andrew.I’mleaving

Stonewall.Igavemytwoweeks’noticejustbeforeyouarrived.Timeformetotakemyownadvice
andmoveon,youknow?”

“What?”Hisfaceisstrickenwithdisbelief.“You’releaving?Really?Whatwillyoudo,Ellie?

You’resogoodatthisjob.”

“Escortingpeopletointerviews?”Ilaugh.“Anyonecandothat.”
“That’snotwhatyoudo,”Andrewsays.“That’snotwhatyoudoatall.You’relike…likea

guidinglight,Ellie.DidyouknowIalwayslookedforwardtocomingherejustbecauseIknewI’d
gettotalktoyou?”

“What?”
“Yeah,”hesays.“IknowyouprobablyjustthoughtIwasawhining,complainingkidwithstupid

problems,butyouneveractedthatway.Youlistenedtomeandalwaysdishedoutgoodadvice.Even
ifIdidn’ttakeitrightaway.Andlastyear,hell,I’dstillbewallowinginself-pityifyouhadn’tshaken
thestupidrightoutofmewithyourtalk.”

“Well…”Iblush.“Itrulyappreciatethat,Andrew.Ido.Butthat’sexactlywhyIneedtoleave.I’m

successfulhere.I’vereachedmyfullpotentialatStonewallandIneedtochallengemyself.Moveon,
takenewrisksandtrytogetnewwins.Ihopeyouunderstandandwecanstillbefriends.”

“Ofcourse,Ellie.”Hesmilesatmewithgenuineaffection.“Ofcourse.Always.Anythingyou

need,justletmeknow.”

We’resilentafterthat,andwhenwestepoutatthetarmacdepot,IgetthefeelingthatAndrewis

sorryaboutmynews.Imight’vetakenallthewindoutofhissailstoday.

“Look,Andrew,”Isayaswewalkuptotheplane’sairstairs.“Youhavemynumber,right?You

cancallandtalktomewheneveryouwant.Nothingisgoingtochangebetweenus.You’reahugepart
ofmyfuturesuccesstoo,youknow.”

Heplaceshishandsonmyshouldersandtakesmeinforasecond.“Thanks,Ells.Really.You’re

oneofonlyahandfulofpeopleIcountasfriends.You’vealwaysbeentherewiththetruthwhenI
neededit.I’llmissyouabunch.”

Wehugandthenheclimbsbackontothejet,stoppingatthetoptogivemeonelastwave.
Isighdeeplyoncehedisappearsinside,wonderingwhymylifeissounfair.Ineedtoquit.Ican’t

faceMcAllisterStonewallafterthismorning.I’veusedAndrewasadistractionsincetheincidentin
thestairs.Butnowthatmydayisover,Ican’thelpbutfeelembarrassed—

hell,mortified—atwhatIdidthismorning.

DidIreallyletMcAllisterStonewallstickhisfingersinsideme?DidIreallycomeinastairwell?

WasIreallyonmykneesreadytosuckhisdick?

Ican’teventhinkaboutit.AndMingisgonebythetimeIgetbacktotheofficebecauseshehas

somekindofcontinuingeducationtoday,soIcan’teventellherwhathappened.

Good,Ithink.Good.Justsitdown,writethatresignationletter,andputthisday,thisjob,andthis

lifebehindyou,Ellie.

Everythingcomestoanend.AndthisistheendofmytimewithStonewallEntertainment.
Timetomoveon.

ChapterEight-Mac

“Mr.Stonewall?”Stephanie’svoicethroughthespeakeronmydeskphonepullsmeawayfrom

theviewoutthewindow.

“Yes,”Icallback.
“I’msorry,sir,Iknowyou’redonefortheday,butthere’saMr.Mancoonlinefour.”
“AndrewManco?Wasn’theheretodayforsomething?”
“Um,”Stephaniesays.“I’mnotsure,really.Butyes,it’stheMr.Manco.Hesoundsupset.Which

remindsme,IgotwordfromBrutus’people—he’sfine.”

“Jesus,”Imutter.Asifmymindwasn’twanderingenoughtomyearlierescapadeswithMiss

Hatcher.“I’lltakeit,thanks.”

“Noproblem,Mr.Stonewall.Seeyoutomorrow.”
Isitdownatmydeskandpresslinefourandspeaker.“ThisisMcAllisterStonewall.HowcanI

helpyou,Mr.Manco?”

“Well,I’msurprisedtofindyoustillonthejob,tobehonest.It’saftersixnow.”
“Myworkisneverdone,Iguess.”IsmileoutofhabitbutthendropthepretensewhenIrealizeI

don’thaveto.It’sjustthephone.“WhatcanIdoforyou?”

“Well,”Mancostarts,seeminglyunsureofwhateveritishe’scallingabout.“Idon’tmeantocome

offlikeaprick.Wait,”hecorrects.“No,yeah,Idomeanit,actually.Ido.I’mgoingtobetheprick,
Mr.Stonewall.Icannotbelieveyou’relettingEllieHatchergo.I’msick,man.Sickoverthis.Iknow
businessisbusinessandyou’reonlytheretochopthecompanyupandparcelitout—”

“Hey,whoa,whoa,whoa.Whatareyoutalkingabout?”
“Look,Iknowpeople,Stonewall.Lotsofpeople.AndIalreadyknewyourfatherwasselling.But

EllieislikeagoddamnedStonewalltreasure.Youdorealizeshe’sthereasonwhyyougetsomany
exclusiveinterviews,right?”

“Pearl-buttonsweaterEllie,”Isay,beforeIcanstopmyself.Whatthefuckiswrongwithme?

“Yes,actually,Icantotallyseethat.Shehasawayof…of…”

“Awayofmakingyouwanttoshowup!”Mancofinishesforme.“Awayofputtingyourlifein

perspective.Awayoftalkingyoudownofftheledgeofself-destructionandmakingthingsseem…”
Hetrailsoff,likehesaidtoomuch.“Anyway,shetoldmeshe’sleaving.”

“She’snotleaving,Mr.Manco.Thatwasamisunderstanding.Shegotapromotiontoday.”
“When?”
“Thismorning.”
“Well”—Mancolaughs—“ItalkedtoherbeforeIleftyourcampusandshetoldmegoodluckand

goodbye.”

“What?”
“SoIguessshedidn’tgetthemessage.I’msupposedtocomebackinamonth,andItellyouwhat,

ifshe’sworkingforacompetitor,I’llbetakingmyinterviewtothem.”

Hehangsuponme.
Ijuststareatthephoneforafewsecondsasthedialtonebuzzesoutfromthespeaker.Ireachover

andendtheconnection.Whatthehellwasthatallabout?

IwakemycomputerscreenanddoasearchforAndrewManco.Iknowhe’sanactor,butthatwas

awhileback.Whythehellwasheheretoday?

Ah.AForbesarticledatedtodaycomesrightup.FormerChildActorTurnsVirtualReality

VacationsintoMillionsofDollars.JustafewshortyearsagoAndrewMancowasonadownward
spiralofself-destruction.Now,he’sthetechworld’snewestdarling.

AnemailalertpopsuponthescreenasI’mreading.

From:EloiseHatcher.
Subject:TwoWeeks’Notice.

DearMr.Stonewall,

Iwouldliketothankyouandyourcompanyforsevengreatyearsofemployment.Ithasbeenajoy

tolearnfrom,andworkfor,oneoftheworldleadersinthecommunicationsindustry.However,itis
nowtimeformetostrikeoutonmyown.Pleaseconsidertoday’sdatethestartofmyformal
resignationandtwoweeks’notice.

Goodluckinallyourfuture—

Oh,hell,no.Shecan’tleavenow.Twoweeks?WherethehellwillIfindsomeonetoreplaceherin

twoweeks?She’snotevenpartofadepartment.Shehasnorealunderlings.Shehasnointerns,or
shadows,orcounterparts.

AndIjustgaveherafuckingpromotionthismorning!BeforeIevenstartedplayingthesesilly

phonegameswithher.

Istandupandpullmyjacketon,stridingoutofmyoffice.AlmosteveryoneisgoneasIgetinthe

elevatorandtakeitdowntothegaragelevel.Fuckthetrain.Everyoneisonthetrainrightnow.I’ll
catchagolfcartovertothehangar.

Nooneistheretohelpmefindakey,andtheyarealllockeduptight,soIpushthroughadoor

andstartjogging.Theairportisnotreallyours.Nottechnically.Werentahangarjustoffthesouth
endofthemunicipalairportwherealltheprivatejetsflyintoforTechCenterbusiness.Soit’squitea
distancefromtheAtriumtothetarmac.

FifteenminuteslaterIburstintotheemptyhangarandseethatlittleofficelitupbyasingle

lightbulbinthefarwestcorner.

EllieHatcherisintherepackingupherthings.
Ishovethedooropen,outofbreath,sweatinglikeIjustcamefromthegym,andpissedashell.

“Whatareyoudoing?”

“Excuseme?”PearlButtonsays.She’snotwearingapearl-buttonsweater.Stillthesamekimono

silkshirtfromthismorning.Infact,Ican,nowthatIlook,seethatshehasnobraon.Hernipplesare
pushingagainstthethinfabric.

“IjustgotoffthephonewithAndrewManco.He’supsetthatyou’releaving.Ithoughtwehad

workedthisout?”

“Whenwouldwehavedonethat?Beforeorafteryouhadmeonmykneesinfrontofyourcock?”
Iputahandup.“Ididn’thaveyoudoanything.”
“No?Youdidn’tstickyourtonguedownmythroat,openmyblouse,ripmybraoff,andthenstick

yourfingersinsidemypussy?WasIdreamingit?BecauseIhavetotellyou,that’squiteafantasyI
had.”

JesusChrist.ThesecondIhear‘pussy’comefromthosesweetlipsIgethard.Iclearmythroat.“I

gaveyouapromotionthismorning,MissHatcher.”

“Towhat?Stairwelldick-sucker?”
“Stopthat!”Isay.
“Stopwhat?”
“Talkingdirty!Ican’tfuckingtakeit.”
“Whatever.”Shesighs.“I’mleaving.”Shepacksuponesmallboxofpersonalitemsandwalks

towardsme.“Flipthatlightoffwhenyou’redonehere,willyou?”

Itaketheboxfromherhandsandsetitdownonabookshelfnexttome.“Eloise—”
“Ellie,”shecorrects.
“Look,I’msorryIhumiliatedyouthismorning.Iwasjusthavingfun,OK?Ididn’tthinkyou’d

takeitthishard,andI’msorry.”

“It’snotaboutyou,”Elliesays,wavinganenvelopeinmyface.
Isnatchitoutofherandreadthefront.“Mr.AlexanderStonewall,corporateoffice?Whatthehell

isthis?”

“Myformalresignationtoyourfather.IfigureIowehimsomethinginwritingaftersevenyears.”

Shesnatchestheletterbackandcrossesherarmsacrossherchest.

“You’renotsendingthatletter.You’renotquitting,”Isay,moredeterminedthanthelasttimeI

saidit.

“It’sdone,Stonewall.Getoverit.”Itrytosnatchtheletterback,butshedartsaside.“Whodoyou

thinkyouare?”

“Yourboss,”Isnarl.“That’swho.AndI’mtellingyou,you’renotallowedtojustquitandleaveus

hanginglikethis.Twoweeksisn’tenoughtimetogetagriponwhatyoudohere.Ineedallyour
contacts,allyourschedules,allyour—”

“Howdareyouaccusemeoftryingtostealcorporateproperty!”
“Givemetheletter.”Ireachforitagain,butsheskirtsoutofmyreach,thistimerunningaround

totheothersideofherindustrial-sizedmetaldesk.“Youwanttoplaychase,MissHatcher?”

“No,”shesneers.“Ireallydon’t.Iwanttowalkoutofhere,sendmyletter,andsaygoodbyeto

youforever.”

“Well,”Isay,inchingaroundonesideofthedesk.Shedoesthesame,hereyesdartingtothedoor,

likeshe’sgoingtomakearunforit.“That’snotgoingtohappen.You’regoingtoacceptmy
apology,calmdown,andtalkthisoverwithmelikeanadult.”

“You’retheadult?Really?”Sheeyesthedooragainandthenmakeshermove.Icutheroff.She

switchesdirection.Itripoverametaltrashcan,makingthewholeofficeeruptwithcommotion,and
makeagrabforherarmasshewhipspastme.Myfingersonlycatchthesilksashofherblouseandit
comesflyingopen.Shekeepsrunning,buthershirt…hershirtisstillinmyhands.

AndthenEllieHatcherismortified.Becausesheisbaringherbreaststomeinalltheirsplendor.

“Howdareyou,”shesnarls.

Iexpecthertocoverherself,butshedoesn’t.Shestandsperfectlystraight,hernippleshardand

peaked,herfaceflushedcrimsonwithrage,orembarrassment,orhell,maybeshe’sturnedon?

Thatthoughtaloneisenoughtoturnmeon.
Iholdtheshirtup.“Tradeyou,”Isay,achuckleescapingbeforeIcanstopit.
“Iseverythingagametoyou,Mr.Stonewall?Doyouthinkthisisfunny?”
“No,”Isay,wigglinghershirtintheair.“Notatall.Ijustwanttoputyourclothesbackonyou,

MissHatcher.”

Shetiltsherchinupandthenwalksovertomeandsnatchesherblousefrommyhand.Hereyes

neverleavemine.

IwishIcouldsaythesame.Myeyesarealreadyoutofcontrol.Myhandsarenext.Ihaveherfirm

breastsinmypalmsbeforeIcanthinktwice.Shemoans,leansintome.Theblousefallstothefloor

withaflutter.

AndthenI’mbendingheroverthedesk,myhandsonhershoulders,hereyeswidewithsurprise.I

pushassheresists.“Whatareyoudoing?”shepants,herhandscominguptotrytoslapmineaway.

“WhatI’vewantedtodosincethismorning,”Isayback.“Sinceyou’renolongeranemployee,

it’snotasinappropriateasitwas.”

“Sonowyouwantmetoquit?”
Icockmyheadtothesideassherelents.Givesupherfightandliesbackonthemetaldesk,her

backbucklingalittle.Probablyfromthecold.Ikickherlegsopenwithmyfootandeasebetween
them,leaningoverherbody,grabbingherbybothwristsasIhikethemaboveherheadandpressmy
cockintoherlowerstomach.

“Tellmetostop.”
“Stop,”shemoans.
“Meanit,”Isayback.“Ordon’tsayit,Ellie.It’snotafuckinggame.”
Sheopenshereyes.“MaybeIwantyoutoforceme?”
“Doyouordon’tyou?”Iask.Mycockisfillingwithblood,throbbingsobad.Ineedtofuckthis

girlrightnow.GetthisweirdobsessionIhaveoutofmysystem.

Ibindhersmallwristswithonehandwhenshedoesn’tanswer,thencupherbreastwiththeother.
Shebitesherlipandsays,“Fuck.”
“Youlikethat?”
“Me.”
IlaughasIkissher.Hardandpunishing.
“Fuckme,Stonewall.ThatwayIwillhaveagoodexcusenottocometoworktomorrow.Orever

againforthatmatter.”

“What?”Isay,thespellbroken.
“Youheardme,”shesayssweetly.“Here’syourchancetokeepmearoundortakewhatyouwant.

Fuckme.Rightnow.Hardandfastandanywayyouwant.Butifyoudo,I’llwalkoutandnevercome
back.”

Istandupstraightandbackoff.“Howcanyoulooksosweetandbesoruthlessatthesametime?I

mean,hell,I’dexpectitfromEllenAbraham—”

“EllenAbraham?Thatred-headtrampwhointerruptedusthismorning?Whatdidyoudo,fuck

herinthestairsafterIwalkedaway?”Shesitsup,placesbothhandsonmychest,andgivesmea
shove.“Getoutofmyway.You’redisgusting.”

“Yeah,”Isay.“Ifuckedher.Becausethatwasmyevilplanallalong.Ireappearaftertenyearsjust

soIcancometoworkandfucktwogirlsinoneday.”Itakemyopportunitytosnatchtheletterand
tuckitintomyinsidebreastpocket.“You’renotquitting.Doyouunderstand?Youbetterbeonthe
seventhfloortomorrowatseven-thirtyorelse.”

“Orelsewhat?”Ellieasks,pickinguphershirtandslippingherarmsinside.Herbreastsmove

andjigglewiththemotionandIcannot—cannot,forthelifeofme—lookaway.

“Orelse,”Isay,onceshehasthatsashtiedtightandherbreastsarecoveredagain.“Orelse…I’ll

sendHeathallthosetexts.And,”Iadd,“I’lltelleveryoneaboutyourlittleworkplacegossipboardon
Pinterest.Igotthatmessage,youknow.Youwereusingyourcompanyphonewhenyoupostedallthat
stuff.Ihaveaccesstoallofthatinformation.AndIwilluseit.”

“Youwouldnotdare,”sheseethes.
“Tryme,MissHatcher.Justtryme.”

ChapterNine-Mac

WhythefuckdidIjustthreatenher?Whatadickmove.She’sprobablygoingtosueme.She’s

probablythinkinguptenwaystocutmydickoff.AndI’mnotfooledbythatsweetpretenseshe’s
puttingon,either.IhaveafeelingEllieHatcherisruthless.

IwalkstraighttotheparkinglotwheremyBMWiswaiting.Ipurchasedthecaronlinelastweek

andhaditdeliveredtodaywhileIwasinmeetings.Ipressmyfingertipsonthehandleandthecar
beeps,thenunlocks.Iclimbinandpushthebuttontostartitup,revvingtheengineenoughtomakea
fewpeopleleavinglatelookoveratme.

Nowhome.
Home.
Isayitoverandoverinmyhead.Home.
Don’tstart,Mac.Justdon’tstart.
Iputthecaringearandsquealoutoftheparkinglot,makealeftonthefirststreet,andfollowthat

roadaroundtotheOcculusBuildingwhereInowownthepenthouse.

Home.
Hardly.Iwouldn’tcallthattop-floormonstrosityahome.Aplacetolive.Temporarily,anyway.

Butnotahome.

Homehaspeopleinit,andthisplacehasnone.Notevenfull-timestaff.Thefamilywaslividwhen

Iletthemgo,butthereareplentyofotherplacesforthemtowork.Ineedtobealone.IfI’mbeing
forcedtostayherewhileStonewallEntertainmentissold,well,Iwanttobealonewhilethathappens.

Ipullintotheundergroundgarageafewminuteslaterandflashmyphoneatthesecuritygate

sensors.Ihavetogetastickerforthecar,thenIwon’tevenneedtostop.Thegatewillopen,I’llslide
intotheprivateparkingsection,andboardmyprivateelevatortothepenthouse.

Allwithoutbumpingintoanyone.
WhenIgetupstairsIemptyoutmypocketsandfindEllie’sresignationletter.
WhythefuckdidIoverreactlikethat?Andnotjustthethreatattheend.WhythehellamI

throwingmyselfatthisgirl?She’s…well,yeah,she’scute.Andthatcombinedwiththealmostsex—
twice—attheoffice,well,she’sgottenintomyhead.

Getout,getout.Idon’twantherthere.
TomorrowwhenIgointotheofficeandshe’sintheonerightnextdoor,I’mgoingtobethe

epitomeofprofessional.Nopeeksdownherblouse,nohandsonhertits,nobendingheroverthe
desk.

I’mhardagain.Justwhatthefuck?
Istarttoopentheletter;Ievengetsofarasasmalltearinthebackcoveroftheflap.ButIstop.
IthinkIinvadedEllieHatcher ’sprivatethoughtsenoughtoday.
SoIwalkintotheoffice,openthedeskdrawer,andtossitinthere.It’snotlikeshecan’tjustprint

outanotherone,right?I’msureshe’salreadydonethat.I’msuremythreatswereachallengetoher
tobeatmeatmyowngame.I’msureshe’sprobablyemailingthatletterrightnow.Alongwithalong
listofcomplaintsaboutmybadbehavior.

Asusual.I’mthedisappointment.

TenyearsawayandIcanfeelallthesameoldmisconceptionsaboutmeresurfacing.
Whatgiveshertherighttojudgeme?
Iwalkovertothebarandpourmyselfadrinkfromthecrystaldecanterandtakeasip.Imight

needthewholebottletogetthroughthisnight.

No,thatinnervoicesays.No.Youwillnotfallbackontooldhabitsjustbecauseyouarepartofthe

realworldagain.

Mycellringsintheotherroom,soItakemyonedrinkandwalkouttoanswerit.
Ismileatthenameonthescreen.Mr.Romantic.“Hey,asshole.What’sup?”
“Mr.Perfect,howthefuckdiditgo?”NolanDelaney’svoiceiswelcome.We’vebeenfriends

sincewestartedboardingschooltogetherbackintheseventhgrade.We’vebeenthroughhelland
backsincethosedays.

“Well,shit,”Isay.“AboutasfuckedupasIimagined,butnotinanyofthewaysIthought.”
“Bad,huh?”Nolanasks.Icanhearthesympathyinhisvoice.
“Itcould’vebeenworse,Iguess.Howarethingswithyou?Businessgood?”
“Killingthisshit,Perfect.I’mkillingthisshit.”
“Youalwaysdo.”Isigh.
Icanalmosthearhissmileontheotherend.Andthenthecorrespondingfrown.“It’llgetbetter,

man.Justhanginthere,youknow?”Nolan’slifehasbeencharmedsincethedayhewasborn.What
doesheknowaboutfailure?Whatdoesheknowaboutanythingthatdoesn’tbeginandendwith
success?

That’snotfairandIknowit.Hewasthere.Iamtheonlyblackmarkonhisperfectrecordofan

existence.Evenintheworstoftimeshewasneverthetarget.Thatwasalwaysme.Ijustbroughtmy
friendsalongfortheride.

Wemakealittlemoresmalltalk,himwishingmeluckandprovidingmewiththeappropriate

levelofsupport.Ithankhimandhangup.

Aloneagain.
I’vebeenthiswayfortenyears,sowhat’sonemorenight?
That’smymantra.I’velivedwithitfortenyears.Icanlivewithitforonemorenight.
TheproblemisEllie.Ican’tseemtostopseeingherface.Herbreasts.HerflatstomachasI

pushedherbackonthatdesk.Iwassofuckingclose.Twicetoday.Sofuckingclose.

Ineedtobedifferenttomorrow.Needtoputastoptothisbeforeitallgoestoshitagain.Needto

becarefulaboutwhoItrust.WhoIletin.WhoIgetcloseto.

EllieHatcherwillneverbethatgirl.She’sgotmeinaplaceIdon’twanttobe.Andonemore

wrongmovemightruinmylife.

Again.

AtfourAMIgiveuptryingtosleepandgoforarun.There’saquarter-miletrackalongthe

perimeteroftheroof,butthehillsofthesurroundingareacalltome.Ihaven’tbeenrunningsinceI
gotbacktotheStatesanditfeelsgood.

Itrainedallnightlongandtheairiscrisp.Ilovedawn.Ilovethesmellofafreshstart,anewday.

Ilovebeginnings.

AfterthreemilesIturnbackandslowmypacetoeasemyheartbackdown.Thedoormansmiles

andhandsmeanewspaperasIheadtowardstheelevator,andwhenIgetupstairsIhavejustenough
timetojumpintothesteamshowerandgetdressedbeforeIneedtoleaveforwork.

Iliketogetthereearly.Especiallytoday.

Iwalkintomyseventh-floorofficeatexactlysixforty-fiveandstandatthewindow,wishingIhad

aviewoftheairportinsteadofthecowsforonce.Ortheparkinglot,soIcouldwatchhercomingto
work.

Elliekeptmeupallnight.Notjustmythreat,althoughthatwasweighingheavyonmymind.

Thingsabouther.ThingsIdon’tknowabouther.Whatkindofcardoesshedrive?Wheredoesshe
live?Whatdoesherapartmentlooklike?Whydoessheworkhere?

Ionlyknowtheanswertothelastquestion.AlthoughIcouldlooktheotherthreeupandfindthem

somewhereinherpersonnelfile.Shehastohaveanaddresslisted.Icouldfindthatinfiveseconds.
Andshehastohaveaparkingpassforthelot.Thatwouldlisthercarontheapplication.

Idon’twanttostalkherthough.
WhythefuckamIstillthinkingabouther?
She’snotevengoingtoshowtoday.Andontheoffchancethatshedoesshow,shewon’tshowup

hereontheseventhfloor.I’llhavetosendsomeonedowntothehangartogether,I’msure.

TheelevatoropensandIturnandtrytoseeoutmyopendoor.
NotEllie.
Severalmorepeoplecome.NotEllie.
Stephaniecomes,bringingmecoffee,evenassumingthatItakeitblack,whichisright.Andthen

moreandmorepeople.

She’snotcoming.
Somanymorepeoplebustlethroughoutoftheelevatorsandupthestairsjustastheclockhits

eight-thirty.

She’snotcoming.
Thenthingsgoquiet.
She’snotcoming.
“Excuseme?”IhearthesmallsweetvoiceI’vebeenwaitingfor.“Iwastoldtoreportuphere

today,”shetellsStephanie.“Apparently,Iworkonthisfloornow.”

Shecame.
Iwalktomyofficedoorandmyexhalebecomesanunexpectedsighofrelief.Standingbefore

me,MissHatcherlookslikeshe’sreadyforaneveningout.She’swearingalittleblackdress,not
hugginghercurves,butdrapingdownherbodyinsomekindofveryflirty,femininefabric.Agood
stiffwindmightliftitrightoffherbody.

IthinkIgethardjustfromthethought.

ChapterTen-Ellie

“Youcame.”McAllisterStonewallisleaningagainstthedoorofhisofficelookingspectacularly

triumphant.HisdarkgraysuitdrapeshisbodylikeanItaliantailorwaspayingattentiontoeachand
everystitchofthread.Hisshirtisaclassicgraypinstripeandhissilktieisadeepceruleanbluethat
matcheshiseyes.

Helooksverysmug.Likehewonsomething.Likemymerepresenceinhistop-floorworldisa

prize.Buthealsolookstired.Likehelostsleeplastnight.

Good.Good.Ilostsleeplastnighttoo.
God,Ihatehisguts.ButI’mnotabouttomakeanothersceneuphereontheseventhfloor.Icalled

Minglastnightcryingandshevowedtomakethisbastardpayforwhathedid.We’llfigureitout,she
said.

Butthat’sjustnotthekindofpersonIam.Notvengeful.IjustwantthatphonebacksoIcandelete

allthosemessagesIsentstupidHeath.HowdidIeverthinkeitherofthetwoStonewallbrotherswere
handsome?Itmakesmewanttobarf.

TheonlyreasonI’mheretodayissoIcanscopeoutMcAllister ’sofficeandfigureoutaplanto

getthephone.Mingisgoingtomeetmeuphereafterworkandthenwe’regoingtotearhisoffice
apartandgetitback.

Itakeadeepbreathandletitout.“DoIgetanoffice?OrwillIhavetoclaimapicnictableoutin

theAtrium?”

“Oh,wespentalldaygettingyourofficeready,Ellie,”Stephaniesays.Iknowherprettywell.I

wasupheretoseeHeathatleastonceaweek.“You’vegotHeath’soldannex.”

“Theconnectingroom?”JesusChrist.CanInotcatchabreak?NowI’vegotaconnectingoffice

toMr.FancyJet?

“AndJenniferisontheothersideofyou.Thatwillbenice.”
Yeah,JenniferSluts-aroundandIshouldbecomefastfriends,consideringwebothliketofuckour

waytothetop.

Stopit,myinnervoicesays.Stopit.Hepromotedyoubeforeallthatstuffhappened.Youearned

thisoffice,Ellie.

ToobadI’llonlygettoenjoymysuddenascensionupthecorporateladderforoneday.Assoon

asIfindthatphone,I’moutofhere.

Well,assumingthat’safterAdelineleaves.Iallowmyselfalittlesmileatthat.Ipracticallygetto

spendtheentiredaywithAdeline.

“AreyoujustgoingtostandtherewastingStonewalltimeandmoney?”McAllisterasks,breaking

meoutofmyhappymoment.“Orshouldwegettoworkdismantlingyoursecrets?”

“Ugggh,”Isayundermybreath.ThankGodAdelineisheretoday,orImightstabhimwitha

pencil.“I’mreadywhenyouare,”Isay,tippingmyheadupandwalkingpasthimtotheopendoorof
myoffice.“Iwon’tbearoundmuchtoday.IhaveaVIP.”

Theofficeis…well,whatIexpectedthesecondtheysaidHeath’sannex.It’sthesamedark

paneling,thesamemassivehardwooddesk,thesameleatherchairs.Inotherwords,ugly.

IwalkovertothedeskasMcAllisterfollows,metakingaseatinthegiganticexecutivechair,him

perchingnonchalantlyonthecornerofthedesk.

“They’reallVIPs,MissHatcher.Today’sguestisnodifferentthanyesterday’s.Soyouwillmake

timeformeandmyquestions.”

“Oh,really?”Ichallenge.
“Really,”hesnarls.
“Well,”Isay,openingthetopdeskdrawertofindashitloadofHeath’soldstuff,includingcigars.

ImakeafaceasIholdoneupbetweenmyfingers.“Smellslikethesethingsinherestill,youknow.
Andit’sdarkandugly.”

“Uhhh…”Stonewallfalters.“Sorry.Nowwhyistoday’sstarmoreVIPthanyesterday’s?Who,by

theway,personallycalledmelastnight.”

“What?Brutuscalledyou?Why?”ButIknowwhy.He’sgoingtosueusbecausehethinksItried

tokillhim.

“NotBrutus,AndrewManco.Hecalledtoletmeknow,innouncertainterms,thathewilltakehis

VIPnesselsewhereshouldyouleavethecompany.”

Ihavetoturnawayalittletohidemysmile.
“Laughallyouwant,MissHatcher.Butit’snotfunny.We’retryingtomakethesaleofStonewall

goaseasyas—”

“Sale?”Isay.Whatthehell?
“Oh,Iforgot,”hesays.“Youhadtodashoutofthemeetingyesterdaytograbatampon.”
Iscrunchmyeyebrowsathim.Asshole.God.He’ssuchanasshole.
“Well,”Isay,takingcontroloftheconversationoncemore—andthenIseetheopendoor,getup,

closeit,andtakeaseatbackinmychair—“whatIdohereisallveryconfidential.”

“Really?”Stonewallsays,oneeyebrowhitcheduponhisforehead.
“Really.Iappeartobeasillyescort.ThegirlwhorunsoutforM&M’swhentherockstarsget

belligerentabouttheconditionofthegreenroom.Butthatisnot,infact,Mr.Stonewall,whatIdo
here.Ismoothegos,Igiveadvice,Ilendafriendlyeartotheworld’srichandfamouswhentheyfeel
liketalkingabouttheirveryuniqueproblems.”

He’sgotaveryconfusedlookonhisface.
“I’malifecoach,”Itellhiminsimpleterms.“Tothestars.Ievenwroteabook.SeeingStars.”
“What?”heasks.
Ialmostlaughathisconfusion.“It’snotpublishedyetthough.I’mworkingonthat.”
“Thisisreal?Whatyou’retellingmeisreal?”McAllisterasks.
“Ofcourseit’sreal.Iseestars.I’mtheBFFtoexactlytwenty-sevenhigh-levelVIPs.That’swhy

theyloveme.Ilistentothem.”

“Areyousomekindoftherapist?Idon’tunderstandwhatyou’resaying.”
“No,I’mnotatherapist,I’mafriend.Theytalk,Ilisten,Igiveadvice,theytakeit.Success.”Ihold

myhandsupinoneofthosevoilàgestures.“Sothat’swhyAndrewprobablycalledyou.Imean,I’ve
beenhereawhile.Sevenyears.I’veknownAndrewsincehewassixteen.AndAdelineandImetthe
veryfirstyearofmyinternship.She’stheVIPfortoday.Andwealwaysspendalotoftimetogether.”

“Soyouwroteabookoncompanytime,isthiswhatI’msupposedtotakeawayfromthis

conversation?”

“What?Iwrotethebookathome,asshole.”
“Youusedcompanyresourcesforthesourcematerialofyourbook?”
“Whyareyoudoingthis?”Istandupandsmoothdownmydress.“Whydoyouhavetobeso

mean?Whyiseverythingaboutyouandyourcompany?Ididn’tuseanythingfromStonewall.Imade
friends.Doesthiscompanygettokeepmyfriendswhenwebreakup?”

Iwhirlaroundtowalkout,butMcAllistergrabsmyarmandpullsmeclosetohim.Myback

tinglingwiththeanticipationofconnectingwithhischest.Icansmellthefaintscentofcologneonhis
neckwhenheleansintomineandwhispers,“Iwasn’tbeingmean.Iwasaskingallthequestionsthe
companylawyerswillaskwhenyourbookhitsthestands,MissHatcher.Weneed—”

“Ihavereleasesfromeveryone,Mac.”Istareintohiseyesandhe’stakenabackwhenIusehis

nickname.I’mnotevensurewhyitcomesout.“Sorry,Mr.Stonewall.Ihavereleases.Idon’tneed
yourlawyers.”

Hisfreehandslidesintoplacejustabovemyhipboneandtheoneholdingmywristletsgoand

palmsmybreast.

“Whatareyoudoing?”Iaskinawhisper.
“Idon’tthinkyourdressisappropriate,MissHatcher.”Heslidesthehandonmyhipdownthe

silkyfabricuntilitcomesincontactwithmythigh.“It’sfartooflirtyforaThursday.”

Heforcesmebackintohisbody.I’mpracticallyinhislapashecontinuestositontheedgeofthe

desk.“Well,”Isay.“IfyouwantacompletelyprofessionaloutfityouhavetowaitforTuesday.”

“What?”Helaughs.
Ilaughtoo,breakingthesexymomentandthehostileoneatthesametime.AndthenIturntoface

him.Icanlookintohisblueeyesnow,becausehe’ssittingandI’mstanding.“MondaysIwearpencil
skirtwithbutton-downoversizedshirtandathinbeltatmywaist.Tuesdaysarebusinesschic.Fitted
trouserswithacamishellandamatchingblazer.WednesdaysareA-lineskirtwithaninteresting
blouse—”

“Interestingblouse?”heasks.“Well,thatkimonothingwascertainlyinterestingonceIgotyour

braoffyou.What’stoday?”

“Today,”Isay,“issex-it-up-for-happy-hourday.MingfromITandIgofordrinksevery

Thursdaynight.”

“Hmmm,”hesays,hishandswanderingupmydressandcomingtoarestonmyasscheeks.
“Whatareyoudoing?”Iask,suddenlybecomingbreathless.
“TellmetostopandIwill.”
“Thatwasn’tthequestion,”Iwhisperback.
“I’mfeelingyourass.I’mwaitingtobeslapped.I’mgivingyouanout,butgettinginafeelatthe

sametime.I’mgoingtobendyouoverthisdeskinexactlytensecondsifyoudon’twalkout,Miss
Hatcher.One.Two—”

“IhavetogomeetAdelineonthetarmac.”
“Three.Sogo.Four.”
“We’regoingtogetintrouble.”
“Five.Six.Fromwho?”
“Idon’tknow.”
“Seven.Lastchance,MissHatcher.Takeitorleaveit.Eight.”
Ichewonafingernailandeventhougheveryvoiceinmyheadisscreamingatmetowalkout,

justwhenIgetthenervetobreakaway,hisfingersslidedownmyassandslipbetweenmylegs.“Oh,
shit,”Imoan.

“Nine.Ten.”
Istareathimforwhatseemslikeeternity.Lookinghimstraightintheeyes,wonderingwhathe’ll

donext.

AndthenIknow,becausehe’sgotmebentoverthedesk,theheelofhishandpushingdownonthe

smallofmyback.

“Liestill,MissHatcher,”hesays.“I’lltakeitfromhere.”
Icanbarelybreathe,butI’mpantinghardatthesametime.Thatmakesnosense.Nothingmakes

anysenseatall.

Heliftsmydressup,theairbathingmybareskinwithacoolnessthatbothexcitesmeandmakes

mepanic.“Wait,”Isay.

Hishandscaressme.Overeachroundasscheek.Downthefrontofeachthigh.“Don’twastemy

time,MissHatcher.Getupandpullyourselftogether,orliestillandtakeit.”

Mymouthfallsopenattheaudacityofthisman.Buthehookshisfingertipsintothelaceofmy

pantiesandslidesthemdown.Notallthewaydown.Justfarenoughforhimtogetaccess.Just
enoughsotheyarepositionedrightinthecreasewheremycheeksmeetmythighs.

“Goddamn,”hewhispers,steppingbackapaceortwo.
HistouchisgoneandIturnmyheadalittletolookovermyshoulder.“Whatareyoudoing?”
“Enjoyingtheview.”Hegrabsthethickbulgebeneaththefabricofhistrousersandsqueezes.

“I’vebarelytouchedyou,butyoulookreadytome.”Hereachesinhispocketandpullsoutacondom.
Thecrinkleoffoilandthesmallripasheopensupthepackagemakemeswallowwithalittlebitof
fearandawholelotofanticipation.

“Youkeepthemonhand,doyou?”
Heplacesonehandoneithersideofmyfaceandleansdown,theweightofhisbodypressing

againstmyback,theheatofhisbreathflowingoverthesensitiveskinonthebackofmyneck,his
harddickpressingrightatmybareentrance.“IfoundtheminHeath’sdesk,MissHatcher.Nowdo
youwantthisornot?”

“Yes,”Isay,hopingIdon’tregretit.“Yes.”
HestandsbackupandIwantnothingmorethanforhisbodytocovermeagain.Iwanttofeelhim

againstme.

Iamcrazy.WhyamIlettinghimdothis?
Amomentlaterhisbeltjinglesandthezipperonhistrousersmakesarippingsound.Iwonder

howbigheis.Ididn’tgetagoodlookyesterday.

Ifeelthetippressingagainstmyopeningandletoutasoftmoan.
“Ihopeyou’renotascreamer,”hesays,easinghimselfinsidemealittlebit.“BecauseStephanieis

onlyafewfeetawayontheothersideofthatdoor.”

Hishandsgripeithersideofmyhipsandhepullsmywholebodytowardshim,makingmeslide

onthesleekwoodendesk.Oh,God.Imightcomerightnow.

Don’tcome,don’tcome,don’tcome.Don’tlethimgetyousoquicklyagain.
Butthenheleansdownovermybodyagain,onehandpressingonthedesknexttomyface,one

handsneakingundermythighashebeginstocaressmyclitinsmall,slowcircles.

Hethrustsintome,hard.Hardenoughtomakemegasp.
“Youareascreamer,aren’tyou,MissHatcher.Icantell.Butifyoudoitnow,Iwillgagyouwith

mytieandthatwilltakeawaythefewminutesIhavelefttofuckyougoodandmakeyoucome.So
don’t.”

Holyshit.Ihaveneverbeensoturnedoninmylife.Andeverythinghesaysissostupidand

caveman.Ican’thelpitthough,it’shotashell.

Hestartsfuckingmehard,andeventhoughItrytocontrolit,Ican’t.Ican’t.Istartmoaning

loudlyasthewaveofpleasurequicklyturnsintoabuildingclimax.

“Shh,”hesays,whisperingthewordscloseinmyear.Thatjustsetsmeoffmore.Hepullsmy

headupoffthedeskbymyhairandcupshisotherhandaroundmymouth,pumpinghimselfintome
sofast,sohard,I—

“Shit!”Iyellintohispalm.
“Fuck,”hesays.AndonceIstopyelling,hetakeshishandaway,placesbothofthembackonmy

hips,andgripsmesotightashefucksmefrombehind,Ifullyexpecttohavebruises.

Whenhecomes,hecollapsesdownontopofmybackagain,hischestheavingwitheffort.Mineis

doingthesamebecausehisfullweightispressingmeagainstthewoodendesk.

“I’mgoingtoneedyoutosignareleaseformforthis,MissHatcher.Youwon’tmind,since

you’realreadyfamiliarwiththem.Stopbymyofficeafteryou’redoneplayingLifeCoachtothe
Starsandwe’llgetthelegalitiesofaworkplacesexualrelationshipoutoftheway.”

Andthenhestandsup,putshimselfbacktogether,andwalksoutofmyofficebywayofour

connectingdoors.

ChapterEleven-Ellie

Well,callmecheapandstupid.
EllieHatcher,youbroughtthisonyourself.
Ihuffoutabreathandstandup,pullingmydressbackdownovermyhipsandsearchingthrough

mypursetofindmycompact.

Great,justgreat.Ilookwell-fucked.
Didhepullmyhair?It’sallmessedup.
MyphonebuzzesandIsearcharoundforthat,groaningasIseethecallerID.Ipressacceptand

exclaim,“Adeline!You’rehere!”

“Andyou’renot,”shesaysinhersweetsing-songvoice.“Whereareyou?Mingsaysyougotan

officeintheAtrium.”

“Idid,butholdtight.I’llbethereinfiveminutes.”Iendthecall,smackanewlayeroflipstickon,

andexitmyoffice.

“Oh,Ellie?”Stephaniecalls.“Stonewallsaidsixo’clockisgoodforhim.”
“Goodforwhat?”Iask,cursingherforderailingmygetaway.
“Yourmeetingtonight.Hejustleftandsaidhe’dbegoneallday,buthe’dbehereatsixforyour

appointment.Hisoffice,hesaid,notyours.”

“Fine,”Isay,makingadashfortheelevators.
OncethedoorscloseandI’malone,Iletoutalongbreath.Ijustletmybossfuckmeonmydesk.
Heath’sdesk,tobeaccurate.Hissmokingdesk,becausethat’swhatitwas.Aplacewherehe

entertainedclientswithdrinksandcigars.

Gross.I’dratherbeinthegreasyairplanehangarthanupthereontheseventhfloorwiththe

executives.

Itfeelslikethetraintakesforever,butIlookatmyphoneandit’snotforever,justsixminutes.
WhenIburstthroughoutthedoortothehangarAdelineandMingarelaughinginmyold

fishbowloffice.

“Hey,”themechanicscalltome.“How’slifeupontheexecutivefloor,Ellie?”
“Great,guys!”Icallback,thenpushthedoorsopen.
AdelineandIrushtogetherforhugsandsqueals.
“Youbitch!”shesays.“Yougotapromotion!Finally!”
“Ugggh,”Isay.“Don’tremindme.It’snotwhatyouthink.Let’sgohavebreakfastandwe’lltalk.”
MinggivesmeaknowingsmileasIopenthedoorforAdeline.Sheknowsthiswon’tbeeasy.I

admit,Andrew’scalltoMcAllisterwasasurprise.We’refriends,Iknowthatmuch,butInever
expectedhimtostickupformelikethat.AdelineandIareveryclose.ShewillnotbehappytohearI
amquitting.

“Sospill,chick,”Adelinesaysassoonasweenterthestairstothetrainstation.“What’sgoingon?

Mingkindoffilledmeinonthenewboss.WhathappenedtoHeath?”

“Honestly,”Isay,“Idon’tknow.Ihavenoclue.Wewereprettygoodfriends.Imean,Ithoughtwe

weredating.”Ipushthecallbuttonforthetrain.

“Ellie—”

“Ididn’tsayweweredating,butIthinkwewereclose.Andthenonedayhedoesn’tshowupand

there’sanannouncementthathe’stakingoversomesistercompanyinChina.”

“Mingtoldmewhatyouweredoing.Sendinghimdelusionalmessages,Ellie?What’sthatabout?

You’renotdesperate,girl.You’resmart,beautiful,anddon’tneedtobechasingadouchebaglike
him.”

“He’snotadouchebag.”
“No?”Adelineasks.“ThenwhydoesMingthinkheis?Shesayshewasstringingyoualongto

keepyoufromquitting.”

Hmmm.“Well…”Idon’thaveananswerforthat.Thankfullythetraincomesanditgivesmea

momenttogetmythoughtstogether.“Ididtrytoquitlastyeartoo.Andit’snotthatIdon’tlovemy
job.Ido,actually.IjustthinkI’veoutgrownit,youknow?”

“I’mallforyouquitting.”
“Youare?”
“Ofcourse.You’remeantforbiggerthings.Andtheyhavebeentakingadvantageofallyour

talentforyears.Youneedtobreakawayandriseup,Ellie.AndHeath’spromiseswerejustaployto
keepyouhere.”

“Well…”Isigh.“Nowhisbrotherhastakenoveranditseemstobeplayingoutthesameway.

Onlyhe’smuchmoreaggressiveaboutit.”

“Theoffice?Andpromotion?”
“Yeah,”Isay.Andthesex.ButIdon’tsaythatpart.
“Well,don’tlethimsmooth-talkyouintostaying.Sticktoyourguns.”
“Iturnedinmynoticelastnightbutherefusedtoacceptit.”
“Whoisthisguy?”Adelineasks,annoyed.
“McAllisterStonewall,”Isay.Imightevensighhisnamealittle.Thisdoesn’tgetpastAdeline,

becauseshecocksaknowingeyebrowatme.“What?”

“Ishedreamy?Becauseyoujustsaidhisnamelikeheis.”
“He’sverygood-looking,”Iadmit.“Andalittlebit…overpowering.”That’sanunderstatement.

“AndIjustdon’tknowanymore.Hekindofflippedmyworldupsidedownyesterday.”

WegetoffthetrainatBuildingEleven—that’swheretheexecutiverestaurantis—andIfillherin

onhowhehumiliatedmeatyesterday’smeetingaswetaketheescalatoruptothediningroom.

“Whatadick,”Adelinesays.
Iholduptwofingerstoindicatethenumberinourpartytothehostatthefrontandthenwefollow

himtoaprivatetableinthebackwhereIbringthecelebrities.OnceweareseatedIgetbacktothe
conversation.“Right?I’mnotoverreacting?Imean,maybeIoverreactedinthemeetingandmy
escapedowntheslidewasridiculous,butIwasjust…shocked.Itwasstupidtoputallthosepersonal
thingsinHeath’smessagestream.”

“Anddelusional,”sheadds.
“Maybealittle,”Iadmit.“ButMcAllisterStonewallcouldseetheywerenotmeantforhimandhe

notonlyreadthem,heresponded.Amanwithclasswould’veignoredthem.Andabosswould’vesent
apoliteemailaboutit.Nothumiliatedmeinfrontoftheentireexecutivestaff.”

Shenods,puttingonherpoutyfaceinsympathy.“Hehandleditwrong.”
“Ididtoo.Iunderstandthat.But…buthowdoIlookhimintheeyeforthenexttwoweeks?”I

pauseforamoment,wonderingifIshouldtellhertherest.Yes.Ibetterjustcomeclean.“Andthere’s
somethingelseonthephonetoo.”Iscrewupmymouthalittletoindicatethisisnotgood.

“Spillit,”Adelinesays.
“IhavethisPinterestboard,right?”
“Riiiight…”

“AndIpostmydelusionalthingsonthere.”
“OK.”
“Plus,Imight’vemadeaboardwithworkplacegossiponit.Ihavethesenicknamesforeveryone,

likeJenniferSluts-around,andClarisseTakes-all-the-credit,andMartyBrown-nose.”

Adelineburstsoutlaughing.
“It’snotfunny!AndIsentthelinktoHeath.Whichmeans…”
“Oh,myGod,whywouldyoudothat?”
“BecauseI’mstupid?”
“SohesawyoubeingEllieOffice-bitch?”
Ismile.“Yes.”
“Theboardwaspublic?”
“No!That’swhatIdon’tunderstand.It’sprivate,justMingandIcanseeit.”
“Sohowdidheseeit?”
“Isenthimthelink,Iguess?”
Adelineshakesherhead.“Hecan’tseeit,Ellie.Ifaboardisprivate,thenit’snotavailableto

anyoneunlesstheyareaddedtoit.DidyouaddHeath?”

“Ofcoursenot!”
“ThenMcAllisterdidn’tseeit.”
“Hesaidhedid.Heusedittothreatenmelastnight.Saidhe’dblastmygossipboardalloverwork

ifIdidn’ttakebackmyresignation.”

“He’slying.Whatisthenameoftheboard?”
“WorkBitchesandOtherCunts.”Webothburstoutlaughingnow.“Iknow,I’mterrible,but…”I

havenoexcuse.

“AmIinthere?”Adelineasks.
“Ofcoursenot!Don’tbesilly.Ilovemycelebrityclients.EventhatdumbassBrutushasgrownon

mealittle.OMG,Ialmostkilledhimyesterdaywithapeanutbuttersandwich.Itwasnotevenon
purpose,Icrossmyheart.”

“Jesus,yesterdaysucked.”
“Right?WhatdoIdo?”
“Well,”Adelinesays,“I’mnotthebestadvice-giverontheplanet,whichiswhyIalwayscometo

you.ButI’dgetthatphonebackanderasethewholemessagestream.Justpressthatlittledeletebutton
andgetridoftheevidence.Andthenyoushovethatresignationinhisfaceandsaygoodbye.”

Inodasthewaitercomesaskingfordrinks.WeordertwomimosasandsplitanorderofFrench

toast.“Thenthat’smyplan.Ineedtogetintohisofficeandfindthatphone.”

“Well,”Adelinesays,pressingherindexfingersunderherchinandgivingmeadevioussmile.

“Thatplanhasbeendealtwith.Ontotheonewe’rereallyheretotalkabout.”

“Adeline,look—”
“No,”sheinterruptsme.“Youlook.Youweretheonewhotoldmetowalkawayfrommylast

labelandstrikeoutonmyown.Indie,yousaid,right?It’sallaboutbeingindie.SoItookyouradvice,
anddoyouknowwhathappened?”

“OfcourseIknow,”Isay,smiling.“Fournumberonehitsintwelveweeks.Morethantwomillion

songssold,morethanamillionnewsubscribers,andseventeenmilliondollars.But—”

“Nobuts,Ellie.Wemadeadeal.”
“Ijustdon’tthinkI’mready.”
“You’rereadytoquitthough?”
“Yes.”Inod.“Definitely.Stonewallmightnothaveacceptedmyresignation,butthatdoesn’tmean

Ididn’treallyresign.I’mouttahereinthirteendays.Noexceptions.”

“Thenpushpublish,”Adelinesays.
“Ineedaplanfirst.Somekindofreleasescheduleorsomething.”
“Bitch,youworkforthebiggestfuckingentertainmentnetworkontheplanet.Youknowevery

oneoftheproducerson—howmanyshowsdoyouguysmanagehere?”

“Idon’tknow.Ilostcount.”
“PlusbloggersandYouTubers.Allyouhavetodoisgoaskforhelpandeveryonewillbehappy

topitchyourrelease.IfIthoughtprofessionalpeoplelookingforacoachwouldlistentome,I’d
pitchyoutothem.Butsweetie,IcangetyoueyeballsbutIcannotgetyoutherighteyeballs.These
peoplehere,theycanandtheyoweyou.Don’twalkawaywithoutaskingforafavor.”

“Idon’twanttousemypositionheretogetexposure,Adeline.Itmakesmefeeldirty.”
“Howmanytimeshaveyoucomethroughforthem?Whenguestscanceled?Youpulledoutyour

phone,madeacall,andthatspotwasfilled.”

“Butthatwasmyjob.”
“Thatdoesn’tmeanyoudon’tdeservetheirhelp.”
ImakeafaceasourFrenchtoastisserved.
“Justthinkaboutit,”shesaysaswediginandeat.“Andevenifyoudon’taskforhelp,youhave

toputitoutthere.Pushitoutofthenestandletitfly.Don’twaitforsomeoneelsetocreateyour
success.Isn’tthatwhatyoutoldme?”

“Idid,”Isay,smiling.
“Thentakeyourownadvice.Leavethenest,babybird.Andfly.”

ChapterTwelve-Ellie

AfterbreakfastIdropAdelineoffatherstudiowhereshewillbesingingliveintwohours,andI

promiseherI’llbebackintimetoseeit.ThenIgobacktotheairporthangarjustasPaulSabon’sjet
landsandtaxistowardsus.

Mingcomesoutofthefishbowlandgreetsme.“Howwasbreakfast?”
“Good,”Isay,stillworryingaboutmypromisetoAdelineaboutthebook.Nottomentionthesex

Ihadthismorningwithmyboss,myresignation,beingkickedoutoftheofficeI’vehadforthepast
sevenyears,andhowI’mgoingtogetthatphonebacksoIcanerasethosemessages.

“Didyou…”Mingtrailsoff.
“DidIwhat?”Iask,crabbynowthatIrealizeIhavealotonmymind.
“Didyouguystalkaboutthebook?”
“Wedid,Ming.I’msureyouweretellingherallkindsofthingswhileshewaswaitingforme

earlier.AndIknowyouguysmeanwell,butI’mjustnotreadytoputitoutthereyet.Ineedmore
time.”

“Timetodowhat?”
Iignoreherandwalkintothefishbowl.Paul’splaneiswaitingforsomethingdownattheendof

therunway.“I’mgoingtocheckmyemailrealfast.Ididn’thavetimetodoitthismorning.”

“Whatwereyoudoinguptherethen?”Mingasks,followingmein.
“Nothing,”Isaytooquickly.AndthenIrealizeshewillcatchonwaytoofastandIneedtodistract

her.“IneedtogetHeath’sphonebackfromMcAllister.”

“McAllister?You’reonfirstnamesnow?”
“It’shisname,Ming.”
“WhathappenedtoMr.Stonewall?”
“There’smorethanoneMr.Stonewall.It’sconfusing.Anyway,”Isaywithasigh.“Willyouhelp

metrytogetthatphonetonight?IhavetomeetMcAllisteratsixforameeting,somaybeIcanget
himinmyofficeandthenyoucanslipinandlookforthephoneinhisdesk.”

“Whatifit’snotinhisdesk?WhatifStephanieGuards-the-dooristhere?Whatifwegetcaught?”
“Wewon’tgetcaught,Ming.We’llgetAdelinetomakeabigcommotion.Anyoneleftonthefloor

atsixo’clockwillbetreatedtoanimpromptuappearance.Maybeshecanbreakoutintosongor
something.She’llcomeupwithsomething.ThenI’llhavemymeetingwithMcAllisterinmyoffice
andyouslipinhis,lookaround,getthephone,slipout.Voilà.Crisisover,weallgooutforhappy
hourdrinksandforgetourproblems.”

IsitdownatmyolddeskandpullupmyemailasMingthinksthisover.
“Youknow,yourboyfriendcameinherewhileyouwereatbreakfast.”
“Who?”Iask,sighingatalltheunreademails.Ihavesevenschedulingissuestodealwith,one

guestcanceledfortheendofthemonth—notmyproblem—andanofficialwelcometothe“executive
newsletter”courtesyofJenniferSluts-around.

“McAllisterStonewall,”Mingsays.“Hecameinhereandlookedaround.Satatyourdeskand

everything.”

“What?Whythehellwouldhedothat?”

“Idunno.”Mingshrugs.“Lookingforyourschedule?”
“Thatasshole.It’snotmyfaultwedidn’thavetimetogooveritthismorning.”
“Whosefaultwasit?”Minghasalittlegrinonherface.Likesheknowssomething.
“Whatareyouhidingfromme?”Iask,justasPaul’sjetcomestoastopinsidethehangar.
“Ithinkthebetterquestionis,whatareyouhidingfromme?”
Istareather,wonderingifIshouldlie.
“Don’tdoit,”Mingwarns.“Iseeeverything,EllieHatcher.AndsodoesEllenAbraham,AKA

EllenInteroffice-sexcapades.Becauseshehasbeentellingeveryonethatshecaughtyouand
McAllister,”shesayshisnameinafakedreamysigh,“inthestairwellyesterdaymorninghavinga
tryst.NowtheonlythingIwanttoknowis—”

“Later,”Isay,standingup.“Paulishere.Later,Ming.”Irushoutoftheofficeanddon’tdarelook

overmyshouldertoseethelookonherface.Becausenowshedefinitelyknows,andifEllen
Abrahamreallydidguess,orGodforbid,seeus,thenit’sallovercampusbynow.

AfterIescortPaultoBuildingThree,Ihavetohurrybacktothehangar,timingitjustrightsoI

don’thaveanychanceofhavingtowaitaroundwithMingandherdemandingquestions,soIcanpick
upAllisonSalokandescortherovertoBuildingTen.

IbarelymakeitbacktoAdeline’ssettohearhersing,whichisjustbeautiful.Itakeherbacktoa

limothat’swaitinginfrontoftheAtriumandtellhertheplanaboutsearchingMcAllister ’soffice.
ShepromisestobebackatsixtomakeascenesoMingcansneakinandgetthephone.

Whatcouldgowrong?
Plenty,I’msure,butIdon’thaveanytimetothinkaboutit.Thursdaysarecrazy,whichisthereal

reasonwedressupandcounttheminutestohappyhourafterwork,soI’mnothingbutawhirlwindof
activityasIbustletheguestsfromtransportationtostudios.

Sobythetimesixo’clockrollsaround,Ihaven’thadanytimetothinkaboutthisplanofmineat

all.ItextMingasIridetheelevatoruptotheseventhfloor.

Ellie:I’mgoingin.Whereareyou?
Ming:You’reintheelevator.:)I’mwatching.Adelineisinherlimo,readyandwaitingformy

signal.Textmewhenyougethiminyourofficeandwe’lldoourthing.

Ellie:K
Iprepareago-nowtextinmyphonesoallIhavetodoispresssendandthendropmyphonein

myblazerpocketjustastheelevatordooropens.Tomydismay,thewholeseventhfloorisstill
working.IncludingStephanieGuards-the-door.Jesus,doesn’tanyoneupheregooutfordrinkson
Thursdaynightslikenormalpeople?

“Goonin,”StephaniecallstomeasIapproachthecorneroffices.“Hisoffice,notyours,Ellie.

Heleftspecificinstructions.”

“Left?Youmeanhe’snotevenhere?”I’msoannoyed.
“He’llbebackinjustaminute.Hehadtopopdowntothelegaldepartment.”
Great.Probablygoingtothreatenmewithalawsuitorsomething.Hisdoorisopen,soIjustgoin

andtakeaseat.ButthenIrealize,maybeMingandAdelinedon’tevenneedtogetinvolved?I’min
herealone.

Igetup,peekoutthedoortoseewhatStephanieisdoing,andfindherbusychattingwithpeopleat

herdesk,completelyignoringme.

Ismile.Andgoovertohisdesk.It’sahugedesk.Infact,it’snotthesamedeskasyesterday.Not

Heath’sdesk,inotherwords.

Hmmm.NowthatIthinkaboutit,alothaschangedinhereinonenight.AllofHeath’sthingsare

gonefromtheshelves.They’reemptynow.There’snotonethingleftofmyformerboss.Butthe
oddestthingisthatthere’snothingofmynewbosstoreplaceit.

Ipeekoutthedooragain,justtomakesureStephanieisstillbusy,andtheninchmywayaroundto

theexecutivechairandtakeaseat.Jesus,it’sluxurious.Itmustbenicetoplantyourassinthisthing
alldaylong.

McAllisterhasaniceviewofthehills,notthecity.Inevernoticedthatbefore.Heathhadhisdesk

ontheoppositewall,andtheblindswerealmostalwayspartiallyclosedbecausehehatedtheconstant
sun.

DoIsmellpaint?DidMcAllisterpaintthewallsinheretoo?Idon’trememberthisplacebeingso

bright.Heathlikedthatold-schooldarkpanelinglook.Likethegod-awfulsmokingroomthatisnow
myoffice.

Ilookdowntomyleftandspyastackofdrawers.Myfingersarejustreachingforthehandle

whenMcAllisterburstsin,slammingthedoorclosedbehindhim.Ipullawayjustasheliftshiseyes
fromafileinhishands.

“Makingyourselfcomfortable,MissHatcher?”
“Sorry,”Isay,standingupandscootingoffaroundthesideofthedesk.Heshootsmeasquinted

lookashedropsintothechairIjustvacatedandIstandinfrontofhim,myhandsclaspedtogether,
feelingverynervousforsomereason.

“Well,”hesays,slappingtheopenfolderdownonthedesk.“Ihavegoodnews.Youcanpublish

thebook.”

“What?”
“Thebookyouwrote,MissHatcher?Oncompanytime,usingcompanyclientsasyourmain

focus?”

Ican’tevenwiththisguy.“Whothehell—”
“YoudorealizeStonewallemploymentcontractshaveaproprietaryclause,right?”
“Proprietaryclause?”Shit.Inevereventhoughtaboutthat.
“But,asIsaid,goodnews.Ipulledyourcontract,”hesays,smilingdownatthefileonhisdesk.

“Quitealotofinformationinhere.LotsofthingsIreallydidn’twanttolookup,MissHatcher.”

“Youreadmyemploymentfile?”Iask,stunned.“That’sprivate.”
“Doyouwanttopublishthatbookornot?”
“Yes,butthatdoesn’tgiveyoutheright—”
“Tomakesurethiscompanydoesn’tsueyou?Nicerepaymentformyefforts,Eloise.”
“Well,McAllister,Ijustthinkit’salittlebitinvasiveforyoutobepawingthroughmyfile.”
“Butpawingmywayupyourdressisfine?”Hecracksasmileathisjoke.
“That’sinappropriatetoo.Infact,prettymucheverythingI’velearnedaboutyousinceyoucame

hereyesterdayhasbeeninappropriate.DidyouknowthatEllenInteroffice-sexcapadesistelling
everyoneshecaughtushavingatrystinthestairsyesterday?”

McAllisterfrowns.“No.I’vebeenoutoftheofficeallday.Justgotbackaboutanhourago,and

thenIhadtogodowntohumanresourcesforthisandtalktothelawyers.Whatisshesaying?”

“Justtellingpeople.Mingknewaboutit.I’msofuckinghumiliated.Again.Andit’sallbecauseof

you.”

“Ah,fuckher.She’sjustjealous.”
“Ha!”Ipracticallyscream.“Icannotbelieveyoujustsaidthat.She’sjealousofwhat?”
“ThatIlikeyouinsteadofher.”
“What?”IhavetotakeadeepbreathasIrollmyeyes.“Isthissomekindofcontestforyou?A

conquest?Afucking—”

“Hey,”hesays,standingupandcomingaroundtomysideofthedesk.“Justcalmdown.I’lldeal

withher.ButrightnowIwanttodealwithyou.”

“Dealwithme?”Ican’t.

“Don’tbesouptight,Eloise.Ihavesomethingtoshowyouandyou’resuckingallthefunoutof

it.”

“Well,you…you…”Ihavenothingthatdoesn’tinvolvethewords‘bastard,’‘asshole,’and

‘prick.’

“Fun-sucker,”hesays,smiling.
“I’mnotafun-sucker.Foryourinformation,I’malotoffun.”
“Ialreadyknowthat,Ellie.Preachingtothechoirhere.Nowkeepquietandbeappreciative.”
Islaphim.IsweartoGod,Ihavenoideawhatcomesoverme,butmyhandjustfliesup,hitshis

cheek,andmakesthisepicsmackthathangsintheairaseverythingelsegoessilent.

HepalmstheredmarkImade,andthensmiles.“You’renotgoingtoruinthisforme.Nomatter

howhardyoutry.”

“I’msorry.Idon’tknowwhyI—”
Buthetakesmyhandandstartspullingmetowardsthedoorconnectingtomyoffice.
Jesus,Imightgetluckyafterall.Idon’tevenhavetofindareasontogethiminthere.Ireachinto

mypocket,readytopresssendandletMinglooseonhisass.

ChapterThirteen-Mac

“Comeon,”Isay,leadingherovertothedoor.“Goahead,openit.”
“Why?”Ellieaskssuspiciously.“What’sinthere?Alawyer?Arewegoingtohavetofightoutthe

detailsofthisbook?Becauseit’snoneofyourdamn—”

“Eloise,”Isaysharply,cuttingheroff.“Wouldyoucloseyourmouthandjustopenthedoor?”
Shecrossesherarmsoverherbreasts.
Fuckingbreasts.Goddamnedthingsareperfect.AndThursday’sdressmightbesexy,butit

certainlyisn’tasinterestingasWednesday’sblouse.Iwonderhowmanyinterestingblousesshehasin
hercloset?

“Idon’tappreciatethewayyouspeaktome,Mr.Stonewall.It’srude.”
“Youknowwhat?”Iaskher,mypatiencewearingthin.Shetapsoneofherdesignershoesonthe

floorasshewaitsmeout.“Nevermind,I’llopenitmyself.”

SoIdo.Itwisttheknobandthrowthedooropen,revealingherofficeontheotherside.
Herbrand-fucking-newoffice.
“Whatthe—?”Elliesays,uncrossingherarmsandsteppingintotheroom.“Whatisthis?”
Ismile.Theoldwood-paneledwallsarenowpaintedabrightwhite.Theoldmetaldeskisnowa

classicwhitewritingdesk,theheavydrapesmybrotherusedtokeepthesunatbayhavebeenreplaced
withsheerwhitecurtains,andthedarkhardwoodfloorhasalightbluerugthatspansalmostthe
entirearea.

“Whathappenedhere?”Ellieasks,hereyeswidewithsurprise.
Ishrug.“McAllisterStonewallhappened.”
Sheactuallylaughs.
Finally.Ifinallymadethisgirllaugh.
“Whendidyouhavetimetohireadesigner?”
“Designer?IgotBobfrommaintenancetoswingbyShermanWilliamsandpickupsomepainton

hiswayin.Thenhepainteditthismorning.It’snotabigroom,onlytookaboutanhour.Sowhilehe
wasdoingthatIwentshopping.It’snotdesigner,Eloise.Sorry.AmericanFurnitureWarehousewas
callingmyname.Andit’sfiveminutesaway.”

“Youshoppedforthisstuff?”sheasks,herfingertipstracingthelightbluepipingonthebackof

oneoftwowhitewingbackchairsinfrontofherdesk.

“Yeah,”Isay,stickingmyhandsinmypocketsandleaningbackonmyheels.“Idid.”
“But…”Shelooksupatmewithaweirdlookonherface.“Why?”
“Itdidsmelllikesmoke,right?Heath’sfuckroomwasn’ttherightplaceforyou.”
“Fuckroom?Hedidn’tfuckgirlsinhere.”
“Uh,yeah,hedid,Ellie.Whydoyouthinkhehadcondomsinhisdeskdrawer?”
“Gross.”
“Iagree.Sothereyouare.NewofficefornewEllie.Ibetyou’resorryforbeingsobitchytwo

minutesago.”

“Jesus,whydoyouopenyourmouth?Youknow,youhadmegoingthereforasecond,but—”
“Butwhat?Howthehellcanyoubemadaboutanewoffice?”

“I’mnotmadabouttheoffice.Ilove—”Shestopstalkingandtakesherphoneoutofherpocket,

thentextswhoeveritiswhojustmessagedher.

“Youlovewhat?”Iask.
Shelooksdownatherscreenforafewmoreseconds,thenwalksovertotheconnectingdoorand

closesit,bendingdowntoinspectthedoorknob.

“Whatareyoudoing?”
“Checkingforalock.Didyougivemethisnewofficesoyoucouldburstinherewheneveryou

wantedandhavesexwithme?”

ButbeforeIcananswerthere’sahugecommotionoutintheAtrium.“Whatthehell?”
“Letmelook,”Elliesays.Sheopensthedooracrack.“Shit.”
“What?”
“Arewedonehere?BecauseAdelineisheretopickmeupfordrinks.”
“Adeline?You’rehavingdrinkswithAdelinetonight?”
“Yeah.”Shebeamsasmileatmeandthentakesoffherblazertoshowoffthedress.Shegoes

fromdaytonightinonesecond.Isigh,picturinghowIpawedmywayupherthighsthismorning.

Jesus.
Shedrapesherjacketoverthebackofthedeskchair,whichisaverynicecream-coloredleather

thatfeelsmorelikebutterthanbutter.“ThewholepointofdressinguponThursdayissowecango
outThursdaynight.”

“Right,”Isay,walkingovertoherandslippingmyhandbehindhernecksoIcanpullherupinto

akiss.Shekissesmeback,notevenastruggle.Iplacemyotherhandonherbreasts,squeezingasI
slidemyfingertipsupintoherhairandfistit.“Butyouhaven’tseenthebestpartoftheofficeyet.”

“I’mstillquitting,McAllister,”shebreathesintomymouth.“Iappreciatethenewoffice,butit’s

notevenclosetoenough.I’mnotstayinghere.I’msurethenextgirlwillbeveryhappywithit.”

“Don’tmakeupyourmindyet,Eloise.”
“Don’tcallmeEloise,McAllister.”
“Mac,”Isay.
“Ellie,”shesaysback.
“We’reselling.Whynotjuststayuntilthat’sdone?”
“Thatcouldtakeyears!No.I’vebeenheretoolongandIneedtoflythenest.”
Itakemykissestoherear,andshegivesoffalittleshudderwhenmytonguetracestheoutlineof

herlobe.“Wecouldhavealotoffun,Ellie.”

“I’mnotyourtoy,Mac.”
“I’dbehereeveryThursdaynight.Whileyou’reteasingmeinyourhappy-hourdress.”Ireach

downtothehemofherdressandslidethesilkyfabricupherhips.Shehasthigh-highstockingson,
completewithgarterbelt.Likeshejustwalkedoutofalingeriecatalog.“Didyouchange?Ididn’t
evennoticethesethismorning.”

“Youweretoobusyattackingme,Mr.Stonewall.”
“I’dripThursday’sdressoffyoueveryweek.Thensityoudownonthisdesk,”Isay,reaching

aroundtoherassandliftingherup,placingheronthenewdesk.Ipositionmybodybetweenher
legs,onehandoneachofherknees,andpushthemopen.

“Mac,”shesays,lookingupintomyeyes.“Whyareyoudoingthistome?Just…Justfind

someoneelsetoplayofficeromancewith.”

“Iwanttoplaywithyou.I’mintrigued.Thatwholemessagestream—”
“Shit,”shesays,placingbothhandsonmychesttopushmeaway.
ButIgrabbothwristsandthenplaceherhandsonthegrowingbulgebetweenmylegs.
“Ihavetogo,”shewhines.“Adelineiswaiting.”

“She’snotgettingawayfromthosefansanytimesoon.Wecanhaveaquickie.”
“Look,”Elliesays,tryingtosquirmherwayoutofthis.“I’mreallynotintoquickies,Mac.

Seriously.I’mnotthekindofgirlwhoputsoutonthefirstdate.Hell,Idon’tevenputoutonthethird
date.I’mthekindofgirlwhoneedsatleastfivedatesbeforesex.”

“Five?Whysomany?”
Sherollshereyesandgroans.
“I’mkidding,Jesus.Five,fine,whatever.Butwealreadyhadsexthismorning.Sohowthehelldo

wegettofivenow?”

“It’stoolate,”shesays.“That’smypoint.Itwould’vebeenfunifIwasinanotherplaceinmylife,

butI’mnot.I’mleavingthisjobandI’mcertainlynotstartingarelationshipwithmynewboss
thirteendaysbeforethathappens.”

“We’lldofivedatesthen.Nosexforfivedates.”
“Whatpartofthisaren’tyouhearing?I’mnotdatingyou.”
“Ihavenewsforyou,MissHatcher.Youaredatingme.Andthisisdatenumberone.Itookyou

here,yougotgifts,alittleforeplay,anditcountsasone.”

Shetriestohidehersmilebylookingdownatmydick,butthenshegetsembarrassedandflushes

abrightpink.Itakethisopportunitytoslipmyhandbetweenherlegsandplaywithherpussy.

“Mac,”shewhispers,placingherhandovermine.“We’renothavingsex.”
Iwithdraw,butthengrabherhandandplaceitwhereminejustwas.“Fine.Wewon’t.Butthat

doesn’tmeanyoucan’tgetoffbeforeyougooutforanightwiththegirls.”Sheopenshermouthto
protest,butIplacemyhandtightlyoverherlipsandleanin.“Don’tworry,Iwon’ttouchyou.Only
youcantouchyou.I’lljusttouchme.”

Hereyesdartdowntomyhandasitunbucklesmybelt,releasesthebuttonandzipper,andfistsmy

long,hardcock.

She’sstillstaringatmyhandwhenIwigglemyfingertipsagainstherpussyagain.“Getbusy,Miss

Hatcher,orI’llhavetotakecareofbusinessforyou.”

Ellie’schestrisesandfallsrapidly,likeherheartisbeatingwildly.God,itfuckingturnsmeon.
“Iwanttoripthiswholefuckingdressoffyou,bendyouover,andfuckyoufrombehind.”
“Ifyoudo,”shesayssoftly,“thenwestartthefivedatesoveragain.”
“Ahhh.”Ilaugh.“Sowe’reon,then?Thisisdateone.ButIgetsomethingtoo.EverydateIgetto

tellyouwhattodoandyouhavetodoit.”

“Likewhat?”sheexclaims.
“Getnakedandpourmecoffee?Isn’tthatwhatofficeromancesareallabout?Maybetieyour

handswithmytie?Makeyoubendoverandpickuppaperclips.”Ichuckleatthestupidityofit.She’s
notlaughing,butthat’sOK.“Withnounderwearon?”

“Noonedoesthat,”shesays.“That’ssomeporn-moviefantasythatonlymenhave.”
“Really?Onlymen,huh?”Ifingerherpussyagainandshe’sslick.Sofuckingready.“Ithink

you’rehavingthatfantasyrightnow.Sodatenumberone,weplaywithourselvesuntilwecome.
Deal?”

“That’snotmyideaofadate,Mac.”
God,Ilovehearinghersaymyname.“Itisnow.AndIalreadyexplainedthereasonswhyit

qualifies.Sodeal?”

“WhatdoIhavetolose?”shesays.“Exceptmydignity.”
“HowamIrobbingyouofthatbydoingthis?It’sfun,Ellie.Andnoonehastoknow.”
“Peoplealreadyknow.”
“Theydon’tknowshit.Sotellmeit’sadealandwecangetbusy.YouhavenoideahowmuchI

lookedforwardtocomingintoworktodayjustsoIcouldseeyou.Butwecansavethatconversation

untiltomorrow’sdate.NowplaywithyourpussyuntilItellyoutostop.”

Sheshakesherheadno,butshe’schewingonthatfingernailagain.I’mgettingthefeelingthatthe

fingernailchewmeansshelikessomething,butisafraidtoadmitshelikesit.

“Doit,”Icommand.“Now.Beforesomeonewalksin.”
Sheglancesoveratthedoorwithwideeyes.
“Youlikethat,don’tyou?Youliketheideaofgettingcaught.Icantell.”
“Why—”
“Doit,Ellie.I’mtiredofasking.”
ShesighsbigandIknowI’vewon.AllIhavetodoissayitagainandshe’sgoingtogivein.

“Now,”Igrowl.“Putyourhandbetweenyourlegsandlet’shavesomefun.”

Igetstartedfirst,squeezingmycock,andthenstartmovingmyhandupanddownmyshaftasI

stareather.

Sheleansbackalittle,proppingherselfupwithonehandonthedesk.Sheslipsherfingers

underneathherblackmeshpantiesthatmatchherstockingsandgarters,andthenIalmostdieasshe
beginsstrokingherselfinsmallslowcircles.

Oh,fuck,yeah.Igripmycockharderandtheneasebackintoherprettyleatherchair,scootingmy

bodydownalittleandstretchingoutmylegsuntilourkneesbump.

AndthenImatchmyrhythmwithhers.Myfistgoesuptothetipofmyheadasshestrokesherself,

thenbackdown,slammingintothebaseofmyshaftasoneofherfingersslidesinandoutofher
thoroughlywetpussy.

“Pushyourfingersindeeper,”Isayinaraspyvoice.Shedoes,andwhentheycomebackoutthey

aregleamingandslick.Ittakeseverybitofself-controlIhavenottostandup,stepforwardandease
myselfinsideher.

Ibetshewouldn’tsayno.Ibetshe’dcomeallovermydick.Ibetshe’dprobablytrytoscream

withdelightbeforeIcouldcoverhermouthwithmyhand.

ButIdon’tdothat.
Adealisadeal.Fivedateswithnothingbutforeplay.
Icandeal.Icanhandleit.Infact,IthinkthismightbethemostfunIeverhadnothavingsex.
She’sclose,Icantell.Theonearmsupportingherweightfalters,thenbucklesandsheislying

backonthedesk,herlegsopenwide.Herfingersarewet,herteethclenchingasshefindsherclimax.

Ipumpmydickharder,faster,andthenIleanover,liftherdressoutoftheway,andshootmy

comealloverherbarestomachasshewatches.

Webothgostillforafewmoments.Nothingbutourmatchedheavybreathing.AndthenIbreak

themoment.“Icandealwithnosex,”Isay,walkingovertomyoffice.

“Wait!”
“Waitwhat?I’mgonnagetyouatoweltocleanupwith.Berightback.”
“Mac—”
Iopenmyofficedoorandwalkovertothebathroom,grabatowelandthengobackintoEllie’s

officeandwipethesemenoffherstomach.

ChapterFourteen-Ellie

“What’stomorrow’soutfit?”Macasksashenonchalantlywipesoffhisstill-hardcockwiththe

towelandputshimselfbacktogether.He’slookingdownwhilehedoesitandittakesmeafew
secondstorealizehe’sstaringbetweenmylegs.

“Why?”Iask,jumpingupoffthedeskandsidesteppingaroundhim.Hiswholebodyturnswith

mine,andIbackawayuntilIhitthewallbehindme.I’mstraighteningouttheblackdressovermy
hipsandtryingtofigureoutwhathappenedtomyshoeswhenmyeyesdarttomovementbehindMac.

Mingisstandinginthedoorway,handsonhips,mouthandeyeswide.
“Um,”Isayloudly.“Tomorrow’soutfit.”IlookupatMacandhe’sstilllookingdownatme,

tuckinghisshirtbackintohispants.Idoahead-nodtowardsthedooratMing,tellingherto¸Getthe
fuckoutbeforeheseesyou!

“Yeah,”Macsays.“What’stomorrow?”
“Um,”Isayagain,thenbreathenormallywhenIhearaslightriseinnoiselevelcomingfrom

Mac’sofficeandIknowshe’sgone.“Businesscasual,ofcourse.It’sFriday.”

“Soyouwear,what?Jeansandat-shirt?”
Ilaugh.“No.”Ilaughagain.“Tomorrowiswide-leggedtrousersandatanktopwithafloatysilk

over-shirt.”

“Soundslovely,”Macsays,leaningdowntokissmeonthecheek.“Ican’twait.”
Andthenhewalksintohisoffice,closingmydoorbehindhim.
Ihavebeenperplexedbymenbefore.Hell,I’mprobablyperplexedbymostmen.Butthis

particularmanhasmyjawhangingopen.Howcanhebesodamnhotandsodamndespicableatthe
sametime?

Oh,MissHatcher,Imentallysing.It’stimeforyourfucknow.Andafterwe’redoneI’llpeckyou

onthecheekandpatyouontheassandsay,‘Thanksforthefun,baby.’

Ididn’tevengetapatontheass.Ora,‘Thanksforthefun.’
Bastard.
Aknockonmyofficedoorpullsmebacktothepresent.Itopensacrack,andthenMingis

peekingthrough,glaringatme.“Icannotbelieveyou,”shesaysoverAdeline’s“Thankyous”and
“Oh,you’resosweets”tothepeopleoutintheAtrium.ThenMinggrabsherbythearmanddrags
herinsidemyoffice,slammingthedoorbehindthem.

“WhatthefuckdidIjustsee?”Mingyells.
“Shhhh,”Isay,pointingtothedoor.“He’sontheothersideofthatfuckingdoor!”
“He’sgone,”Adelinesays.“Hecouldn’tgetoutofherefastenough.Didn’tevenstopforan

autograph.”

“Didyougetthephone?”IaskMing.
“No!”shesays.“Ilookedeverywhere.Itwasn’tinthere.Hemustkeepitonhim.”
“You’rekiddingme.SoIjustlethim—”
Mingwagsherfingeratme.“Don’tpretendwithme,girlfriend.Youdidn’tjustlethimdo

anythingtocoverforme.Whendidthisstart?Andwhatisthedealwiththisoffice?Itlooksbrand
new.”

“Yeah,”Adelinesays,draggingherfingeroverthesoftfabricofthechairsinfrontofthedesk

beforetakingaseatandgettingcomfortable.“I’vebeeninthisofficebefore.Disgustingplace.
SmelledlikecigarsthelasttimeIwashere.”

“Hejust…he…justsurprisedme.Tonight.”
“Yeah,”Mingsays,takingaseatinthesecondchairinfrontofmydesk.“Withhisdickinyour

pussy.”

“Wedidnothavesex!”Iinsist.
“Iheardyoucome,”Mingsays.
“Oh,myGod,youdidnot.”
“Iabsolutelydid.Ihadmyeartothedoortheentiretime.”Shecrossesherarmsandherlegslike

thisisfinal,andthennodsherhead.“Nowstartfromthebeginninganddon’tstopuntilwegettothis
momentrighthere.”

Isigh,thenwalkaroundmynewdeskandtakeaseatintheleatherchairwhereMacwasjust

sitting.It’sstillwarmagainstmybarethighsandIfindmyselfwishinghedidn’tleavesofast.

Jesus.WhathaveIgottenmyselfinto?
“I’msohappyIcameheretoday,”Adelinesayswithasmirk.“Don’tleaveanythingout.”
SoIrewindthepasttwodaysandbeginwithMacstandingovermeatthebottomoftheslide.

“Well,”AdelinesayswhenIfinish.“Theofficeislovely.”
“Idon’tgetit,”Mingsays,chewingonherfingernail—abadhabitwe’vebothpickedupoverthe

years.“Whatishedoing?One-uppinghisbrother?”

“Wait,youthinkhe’sjealousthatIwasseeingHeath?”
“Youweren’tseeingHeath!”theybothsaytogether.
“Youweredelusional,Ellie,”Adelinesays.“Heathwasstringingyoualong,Ialreadytoldyou

this.”

“Yeah,”Mingsays.“Ithinksotoo.Imean,Ineverthoughtyouandhimwouldevergettogetherin

amillionyears,butnowthatAdelinementionsit,Idothinkthat’swhyhewaspretendinglikeyoutwo
hadachance.”

“Well,thankyou,guys.”Irollmyeyes.“Whatawaytomakeagirlfeelinadequate.”
“That’snotwhatwe’reinsinuatingatall,Ellie,”Adelinesays.“You’rewaytoogoodforHeath.He

justlikessluttygirlsandyou’renothistype.”

“SowhyisMacdoingthis?”Iask.“IfnotbecauseofHeath?”
“Mac?”Mingsayswithasneer.“You’rereallycallinghimMacnow?”
“What?Itoldyou,that’shisname!”
“Helikesyou,”Adelinesays.“That’smybet.Whatkindofmandoesthesethingsifthegirlisjust

acasualone-nighter?”

“Andyou’realreadypastthat,anyway,”Mingsays.“Howmanytimeswasthat?Three?Four?”
“Weonlyhadsexonce,Ming.”
“Onceisenough.Whathappenedto,‘IneedtendatesbeforeIsleepwithaman?’”
“Five,”Isay.ButIhavesaidtenbefore.Mystandardsjustgotalittlelowerovertheyears.
“Iguessmymainquestionis,”Adelinesays,“willyoustayhereinthisjobbecauseofhim?Or

willyoustillleavewhenyourtwoweeksareup?”

“Oh,I’mleaving,”Isay,puttingahanduptostopthatlineofquestioning.“I’mdefinitelyleaving

inthirteendays.Practicallytwelvenow.”

Mingsighs,butthensmilesalittle.“Well,aslongasyou’restillleaving,Iguessthere’snoharm

inacasualofficeromancebeforeyougo.Justdon’tlethimtalkyouintostaying.Thisjobisadead
endforyou,Ellie.You’regoingtospendtherestofyourlifewalkingcelebritiesaroundthiscampus
ifyoudon’tgetoutnow.”ShelooksovertoAdelineandsays,“Nooffense,Addie.”

“Nonetaken.Icompletelyagree.OurElliehaspotential.Potentialthatwillnevermanifestwhile

workingforthiscompany.”

“OK.”Isigh.“Canwebedonetalkingaboutmenow?Andjustgogetdrunk?”

ChapterFifteen-Mac

Iwaittheappropriateamountoftimebeforecalling.It’sThursdaynight.Theywentoutfora

happyhourdrink.Andnowit’selevenPM.Sheshouldbehome.

Butshe’snot.
Atleast,she’snotansweringherphone.
Ishould’veaskedherwheretheyweregoing.It’sgottobesomeplacesemi-discreet.Youcan’t

justshowupatChili’sforHappyHourSliderswithAdeline.There’dbeamob.Itwouldmakethe
nightlynews.

IopenmyphonebrowseranddoasearchforAdeline.Nope.Noreportsofhergettingdrunkwith

thelocalsintheDenverTechCenter.

IopenthemessagestreamElliehasbeensendingHeathinstead.Goddamn.WhydidIhaveto

stumbleontothis?She’ssofuckingcute.Thesheepdogs.Ican’tevendealwithhowfuckingcutethat
is.

Andthenthere’sthedreamhousepictures.She’sgotpicturesoffurnitureshewants.She’seven

gotpicturesofwhattheirfuturekidswouldlooklike.

HeathandIdon’tlookverymuchalike,soIcan’tevenimaginethat’swhatourkidswouldlook

liketoo.

Whatthehell?Wheredidthatthoughtcomefrom?
IcallEllieagain.Straighttovoicemail.
Itexther.IbetifitwasHeathcallingyou’dpickup.
Heath’sphonerings.Itabtheanswerbutton.“HowcanIhelpyou,MissHatcher?”
“Howcanyouhelpme?”Shesoundsgroggy.“Whatdoyouwant?”
“Youcalledme,”Isay.
Sheendsthecall.
Istareatthephone.Thencallherback.
“What?”shesays,severelyannoyed.“I’mtryingtosleep.”
“Whattimedidyougethome?”
“Hoursago,OK?Iwasasleepandnowyou’vewokenmeup.Iprefertogetmyeighthoursin

beforework,Stonewall.Stopcallingme.”

Sheendsthecallagain.
Stonewall?WhathappenedtoMac?Andwhatthehellisherproblem?Wehadagreattimetoday

attheoffice.Iscrollupthemessagestream,findwhatI’mlookingfor,thendownloadandaddthe
pictureofthesheepdogs,texting,YousentthistoHeath’sphoneatoneAMtwoweeksago.Eleven
o’clockisearlybyyourstandards.

MyphoneringsandIsmileasItabanswer.“Yes,MissHatcher.”
“Iwantthatphone.”
“Companyproperty,Eloise.Ialreadytoldyouthat.”
“IwantthatphonesoIcandeletethatmessagestream,andthenIwillgiveitstraightback.”
“NowwhywouldIletyoudothat?Thesemessagesaregolden.Ihaven’tbeenthisinterestedin

someone’slifeinyears.”

“Mr.Stonewall—”
“Mac,”Iremindher.
“Mac.”Shesoundsalittledefeatednow,hervoicesofter.Ormaybeshe’sjusttired.“Please.Stop

callingmetonight.Stoptextingmetonight.Andtomorrow,Ineedproofthatthosemessagesare
deleted.”

“Datenumberthree.Ithinknot.”
“It’stwo,Mac.Two.AndI’monlyplayingalongbecauseyou’remakingme.”
“Datenumbertwothen.WeneedfivedatesbeforeIdeletethemessages.”
Shegroans.“Youdorealizethisisblackmail,right?”
“Yeah.So?”Ialmostcan’tstopthelaugh.
“It’sillegal!”
“It’sfun,Ellie.Admitit.It’sfun.”
“Justdeletethosemessages,please.”
“Afterthefifthdate.”
“Afterwehavesex,youmean.”
“Afterwehavesexagain,”Icorrecther.“Thisfive-dateminimumissilly,Ellie.We’vealready

experiencedeachother ’sbodies—”

Sheendsthecallagain.
Ihavetochuckleatthis.I’lldropittonight.Butonlybecauseofthemany,manysurprisesIhave

plannedforhertomorrow.

ChapterSixteen-Ellie

DidMcAllisterStonewallreallycallmelastnight?Jesus,Ishouldnotbeallowedtoanswerthe

phonewhenI’masleep.Irolloverinbedandgrabmyphoneoffthenightstand,thencheckmycalls.

Yup.Severaltimes.
Twelvedays,Ellie.Twelvedaysandyouareoutofthere.
Idon’thavetobeintoworkuntilnineonFridays.Wehaveguestseveryday,butmostofthem

overtheweekendcomeinviasatellitefeedonthevariousshows.Ionlyworkhalfaday.Goinat
nine,leaveattwo.IloveFridays.Andsinceit’sonlysevenrightnow,Isetmyalarmandgobackto
sleepuntileightthirty.

MyphoneringsjustasI’mdriftingbackoff.
Dammit.IrolloveragainandlookatthecallerID.
Heath.
WhichisnotHeath,obviously.It’sMac.Itabanswerandsay,“What?”
“Areyousleeping?”heasks.
“Goodguess,Einstein.It’sseveno’clockonFriday.”
“Exactly.Whyaren’tyouhere?Yourpersonnelfilesaysyouworkfromseventofour.”
“Well,mypersonnelfileprobablyhasn’tbeenupdatedsinceIwastwenty-two.”
“You’renottwenty-two?”
“Mac,whatdoyouwant?”
“Iwantyouhere.”
Ican’tstopmyselffromcrackingasmilebecausehesaysitkindofsweet.“Idon’tstartuntilnine.

I’llbeinthen.”

“I’mcomingover.”
Mysleepyeyesflyopen.“What?”Butit’stoolate,Igethang-upbeeps.IcallbackonHeath’s

phone.

“Tensecondsaway.”Andmorehang-upbeeps.
Ijuststareatthephoneandthensomeoneisringingmydoorbell.“Whatthefuck?”Ijumpoutof

bedandgrabmyshortsummerrobe,cinchingthebelttightlyaroundmywaistasIrushdownthe
hallway.ThedoorbellisringingrepeatedlywhenIunlockitandswingitopen.

Macisleaningagainstthedoor,hugelopsidedgrinonhisface.Hiseyesstartintherightplacebut

theydriftdown—allthewaydown—thenslowlymaketheirwaybackuptomyface.“Ilikethislook.
Itsaysfresh.”

“Itsays,‘whatthefuckareyoudoinghere?’Youcan’tjustshowupatmyhouse.Orcallmeat

night,forthatmatter.”

“Whynot?Youquit,right?Whocaresifwegetcaught?”
“I’mnotworriedaboutgettingcaught.”EspeciallysinceMingandAdelinealreadyknowandthey

aretheonlyoneswhocount.Theygrilledmegoodlastnight.WhichiswhyIcamehomesoearly.I
couldn’tansweranymorequestions.NotthatIdidn’twantto.Iliterallyknownothingabout
McAllisterStonewallandcouldn’tanswerasinglethingabouthimwhentheystartedgivingmethe
thirddegree.ThenMingwasstalkinghimonlineandAdelinewascalling“herpeople”totrytodig

updirt.

ButMcAllisterStonewallissuspiciouslymissingfromtheonlinesearchpagesandnoone

Adelinecalledknewanythingmorethanhe’stheoldersonofAlexanderStonewall.

Thatjustmadethemevenmorecurious.Adelineevencalledherprivateinvestigator.Personally,I

thinkthefactthatshehasaprivateinvestigatorinhercontactsiskindofcreepy.

AndsoisthefactthatMacismissingfromsearches.Whohasthatpower?IknowwhenIsearch

mynameonlineIcomeupallovertheplace.I’minatonofcelebrityphotosforone.AndI’vebeen
toalltheawardsshowsthatStonewallEntertainmenthasbeennominatedforovertheyears.

MingwasimmediatelysuspiciousandeventhoughIdidn’tagreewiththemlastnight,Iamtoo.
SomethingaboutMr.Perfectisnot-so-perfect.
“Sowhat’stheproblem?”Macasks.
“TheproblemisIwassleeping.Bothtimesyou’veoversteppedtheboundariesbetweenworkand

personallife.Ienjoymysleep,Mac.Stopruiningitforme.”

“Youwantmetoleave?”heasks,showeringmewithanothersidewayssmirk.“I’mfinewith

leaving.ButIneedyouatwork,Ellie.Now.Sogetyourselftogetherandbeinmyofficeinthirty
minutes.”

IopenmymouthtotellhimwhatIthinkaboutthat,butheturnsawayandwalksdownthehall

beforeIcanthinkofagoodcomeback.

Isettleforslammingmydoorinstead.

Ninetyminuteslater—please,whatkindofgirlwouldIbeifIcould“pullmyselftogether”in

thirtyminutes?—ImakeituptotheseventhflooroftheAtrium.Stephanie’sdeskiscleanso
obviouslyshehasthewholedayoff.AndnooneelseisherebutJenniferSluts-aroundandher
sidekickassistant,EllenInteroffice-sexcapades.

IopenthedoortomyofficeandfindMacsittinginthebubblewindowseat,onefootuponthe

cushion,onefootonthefloor,backleaningagainsttherightwall,pensiveexpressiononhisfaceas
hecontinuestolookoutattheview.

Threesecondsof‘whatthehellisgoingon?’fromme,andhefinallyturnsinmydirection.

“Whatareyoudoing?”Iask,walkingforwardandslowlyclosingthedoorbehindme.

“Iwasthinking…”Maclooksbacktotheview.Iwalkoverandlooktoo.What’ssointeresting

aboutit?Thissideofthebuildingisactuallykindofboring.Justrollingpine-forestedhillsandcows.
AlthoughImighthavetolookcloser,butIthinktherearebabycowsouttheretoo.“ThatIreallyhate
thecity.”

“Youdo?”Iask,sittingdownontheoppositesideofthewindowseat.Irestmybackagainstthe

glassandfinditcool,eventhroughmyshirt.

“Iliketheviewfromthiswindow.Ilikelookingdownatthecows.”
Ifindthatstrangelyrelatable.“It’sverycountry,right?Andpeaceful.”
“That’snotwhy.”
“Oh.Whythen?”Iask.
Hesighsalittle.“Haveyoueverheardpeoplesaytheywantaviewofthisorthat?Theriver,the

lake,thebeach,themountains,thecity.Andifyouaskthemwhy—whydoyouwantaviewofthe
river?—theysaythingslike…‘Iwanttoseetheboats.’Ortherowers.Idon’tmindpeoplewhowant
toseetheboats,orthesunset,orthesnow,oranyoftheothernaturalthingsonemightlikeinaview.
Buttherowersalwaysbotheredme.”

“I’mnotfollowing,”Isay.He’sveeredoffontosomeotherroadandit’snotgoinganywhereI’m

familiarwith.

“Becausetherowersarepeoplejustlivingtheirlives.Andtothatpersonstandingupinthe

penthousecondolookingdownontheriver,therowersarescenery.Ineverlikedthethoughtthat
peoplearescenery.SoIpreferthecowstothecars.Idon’twanttoseethelightsoftheapartment
acrossfrommeflickingonandoff.Idon’twanttoknowaboutwhatthatmeanstothepeopleinside.I
don’twanttoviewthemasscenery.”

“Wheredoyoulive?”Iaskhim.
“YouknowthatOcculusBuildingoverbytheresort?”
“Oh,”Isay.“Wow.”
“Yes,it’sjustaspretentiousasyouthink.Penthouse,roofgarden,indoorpool,privategym,anda

twenty-foursevenconciergedesk.”

“Yeah.”Ilaugh,tryingtopictureit.“IrememberwhentheOcculusBuildingwasbuilt.Hugeparty.

Iwasinvited,ofcourse.Iknowthebuilder.She’sbeeninterviewedoverheremillionsoftimes.Igo
tohereverytimeIneedtoschedulesomeoneforrealestate,orbuilding,orarchitecture.”

“Didyouseethepenthouse?”
“Yeah.It’squitenice.”
“Yeah.Richpeopleproblems,right?”
“Whatdoyoumean?”
“Well,”Macsays,tearinghisgazeawayfromtheviewtolookmeintheeyes,“Ihateit.But

there’sprobablyabillionpeoplewhowouldkilltolivethere.”

“It’s…nottoyourliking?Thedecor?Whoownsit?”
“Weownit,”Macsays.“Weownnotonlythewholebuilding,butthatwholeresort.”
“Oh.”Ichewonthatforasecond.
“WeownmostofthelandintheTechCenter.Myfatherboughtupthelandthirtyyearsagobefore

anyofthiswashere.Andweleaseitout.”

Jesus.Whatkindofmoneyisthat?Ican’tevenbegintounderstandit.
“Anyway,”Macsays,standing.“I’mwaitinginhereforareason.”
“Isthatright?”Istanduptoo,butmyheartbeatsalittlefasterwhenItakehimin.He’swearinga

darkgraysuittoday,ablueshirtthatissolightit’sbarelyacolor,andanotherbrilliantcerulean-blue
tiethatmakeshismatchingeyesshineastheystareintomine.

Idon’tknowwhy,butIstepbackwards.Hisfullattentiononmesuddenlyfeelsmorelikeaforce

thanalook.Hestepsforward,handsreachingforme.Ibumpagainstthewall,noescape,andthenhe
fiststhefrontofmyblouseandripsitopen,revealingmysilkcami.

Mymouthopensinsurprise.
Heripsthecamiaparttoo.Andthen,withoneforcefulwhoosh,bothgarmentsarelyingina

puddleoffabriconthefloor.

“Whatareyoudoing?”Iyell.
Theintensestareturnstoaboyishsmile.“I’dlikeyoutoplessforbreakfast.AndIgettocallthe

shotsforourdates.”

“WhydoIevenbotherwithyou?Justwhy?”Irefusetocrossmyarmsandcovermytits.Fuck

him.Justfuckhim.“EverytimeIstarttothinkyou’renotapig,yougoanddosomethinglikethis.”

“It’sfun,right?”Hissmilenevercracks.
“No,”Isay.“It’shumiliating.”
“Yourtitsarenice,Ellie.Youshouldnotbeashamedofthem.”
“I’mnotashamedofthem—”
“Good.BecauseI’dliketostareatthemwhilewehavecoffeeanddiscussourdatetonight.”
AknockcomesfromMac’sofficeandImighthaveapanicattackthatsomeonewillcomeinand

findmebarelikethis.

“Holdthatthought,”Macsays,leaningdowntokissmylips.“Breakfastishere.Sit,”hesays,

pushingonmyshouldersuntilIslumpintothewindowseatagain.“I’llberightback.”

Andthenheentershisoffice,pullingourconnectingdoorclosed.
IlistentotheconversationinthereasIlookdownatmyclothes.Whatthehellwashethinking?

Thecamiisdust.Rippedstraightdownthemiddle.Atleastthesilkbutton-upshirtisonlymissingall
thebuttons.Icanprobablytieitaroundmywaisttomakeitouttotheparkinglot,but—

There’sajingleofacartandplates.Wehave…roomservice?Whatkindofcompanyhasroom

service?

IguessI’mnotallthatsurprisedtheyhaveituphere.Wehaveseveralrestaurantsoncampus.The

Atriumhasacafeteria.Maybethiscamefromthecafeteria?

Macislaughingontheothersideofthedoor,thenIhearapolitethankyoujustbeforethesound

ofaclosingdoor.

TheconnectingdoorswingsopenagainandMacisthere,awidegrinonhisface.“Ihopeyoulike

pancakes.”

“Thisisnothappening.”
“Oh,thisishappening,MissHatcher.Youaresittinghere.”Hepointstothemiddleofthewindow

seatashepushesthecarttowardsme.

“Ihavenoclothes,Mac.Yourippedmycami.I’mgoingtohavetotiethatover-shirtonandgo

hometochange.Infact,”Isay,reachingdowntogetmyblouseandpullmyselftogether,“I’mnot
comingback.I’mdone.JustwhenIthinkyou’reahuman,youactlikeanape.”

“Wouldyoujustrelax,Ellie?”Heripstheshirtfrommyhands,ballsitup,andthentossesitinthe

air,whereitarcsperfectlyandsailsintothenewtrashcanthatmatchesthedesk.“Threepoints,”he
says.

“It’slikeyouliveinyourownworldorsomething.Ithinkit’sfunnythatyouaccusedmeofliving

insomedelusionalfantasy,butyou,Mr.Stonewall,you’rearavinglunaticwhothinkstheworldishis
asylum.”

“I’mgoingtotakethatasacompliment.Nowsit.I’vegotitallundercontrol.”
“Myclothes!”Iyell.
“Undercontrol,Ellie.”
“How?”
“Trustme.”Histonelosesthechildlikefunandbecomesveryserious.“I’vegotithandled.”His

blueeyesblazeintomineandholdthestareforseveralseconds.

Igiveupfirst,sighingandscowlingatthesametime.ButIdoasI’mtoldandtakeaseatinthe

centerofthewindowashepushesanelaboratediningcartuptome.

Becausenomatterhowatrocioushisbehavior,I’msodamncuriousaboutthisman.Whatkindof

lifemusthehavetotakeeverythingforgranted?

“Good,”hesays,arrangingthingsonthecart.“You’restartingtocometoyoursenses.”
Irollmyeyes,butsavemyindignationforlater.It’sjustnouse.He’samanwhogetshiswayand

thismorninghewantsmetositinthewindowseatofmyofficetoplessasheservesmefood.

“It’sfun,right?”Macasks,winkingatmeasheunwrapsthesilverware,shakesoutthewhitelinen

napkin,andplacesitonmylap.

Idon’tanswer.Itisalittlebitfun,butIdon’tagreeorevensmile,becausehedoesn’tdeservetobe

rewardedforbeingacaveman.

Therearetwolargesilver-domedplates,acarafeofcoffee,twosmallersilver-domedplates,and

aclearcrystalbowlofwaterwithpinkandwhiterosesfloatingontop.

Well.Hecertainlyknowshowtomakethingspretty.“Why?”Iask.
Heliftsthesilverdomesontheplatesandhidesthemononeoftheshelvesunderneaththecart.“I

hopeyoulikepancakes.Butifnot,IgotFrenchtoast.Wecanshare.”

“Whyareyoulikethis?”Iask,mymouthwateringasIlookatthepileoffreshberriesontopof

mypancakes.AndhisFrenchtoastisaninchthickandhasperfectlycrispyedges.

“Likewhat?”heasks,openinguphissilverwareandflappinghisnapkininhislapashesits.“Fun?

Creative?Romantic?Whichofthosethingsbothersyou,Ellie?”

“It’snotthat,”Isay.“YouknowwhyI’mbothered.”Ipointtomyperkytits.
“Yeah,they’rebeautiful.I’mnevergoingtoforgetthisbreakfast.Andisn’tthatthepoint?Isn’t

everyexperiencewehaveamemoryinthemaking?Whynotmakethemspecial?”

Hepoursuseachacoffee,thenhandsmethecreamandsugar.Idowantwhat’sonthistable.I

wanttheseberry-coveredpancakes.Andthecoffeesmellsdelicious.I’mprobablygoingtohelp
myselftothatFrenchtoasttoo.

“Itcanbespecialwithoutbeingnaked,”IsayasIcutmypancakeswithmyforkandshoveitinmy

mouth.

“Oh.”Maclaughs.“Thespecialpartcomeslater.WhenIpushyouface-firstupagainstthis

window,squishingyourtitsagainstthecoldglassasIpullyourtrousersdownandfingeryourpussy
untilyoucome.That’sthepartyouwon’tforget,Ellie.You’llneverrememberhowthisfoodtasted.
Good,orsweet,orwhateverwillbetheonlytakeawayfromthat.Butthemorningyourbossfinger-
fuckedyouupagainstyourofficewindow?Nowthatisamemoryyou’llbemasturbatingtofor
years.”

Oh,myGod.I’minwayovermyhead.He’swaytoomuchforme.
“AndthenI’mgoingtostickmyfingersinyourmouthwhiletheyarestillslickwithyour

pleasure,andjerkoffasIstareintoyourfaceandcomeonyourtits.That’swhyIwantyoutopless.
SoIcaneatandimagineallthatfunthat’scomingourway.Allthosememorieswe’llbemakingin
abouttenminutes.”

IthinkIactuallycreammyself.I’mnotevensurewherethatexpressioncomesfrom.I’venever

useditbeforeinmylife,butthereitisinthefrontofmymind.Andit’shappening.Anditfits.
BecauseI’mwet.I’mwetfromhiswords.

Sohewins,doesn’the?BecausewhileIshouldbeworriedabouttreatingmybosstoatopless

breakfast,allIcanthinkaboutishisfingersinsideme.Hishotbreathonmyshoulderasheplayswith
myclituntilIcome.

Maclaughs.“Ellie,comeon.You’renotthatuptight,areyou?”
Itakeadeepbreathandexhale.
HeleansoverwithaforkfulofFrenchtoastandputsittomylips.Iopenmymouthandheslips

thefoodinside,hissmilemorelikeamanwhoisinthemiddleoflustthanonewhoisthinkingabout
breakfast.

Hisotherhandisbusybeneaththetablecloth.Ihearthejingleofabelt,thenhecloseshiseyesand

startspumping.

He’sjerkingoff.
Iamstunnedsilent.
“Playwithyourself,Ellie.Whileyoueat.”HiseyesopenandhecutshimselfaportionofFrench

toast,putsitinhismouthasIstareathislips,andchewsslowly.“Please,”hewhisperssoftly.

Please.Hmmm.Thatcatchesmeoffguard.Andwhatthehell.I’mhere,alreadytopless.Already

participating.Whynotjust…embraceit.

Iswallowhardandbeginmassagingmynipplewithmylefthand,therighthandbusycuttingup

pancakes.

Ineverstoplookingathim.
Hesmilesandnods.“See.”

Idosee.
IamdefinitelyinwayovermyheadwithMcAllisterStonewall.
ButevenifIwantedto,there’snowayI’mnotgoingalongfortheridenow.
I’min.

ChapterSeventeen-Mac

IttakeseveryounceofstrengthIhavenottothrowthisfuckingcartasideandbendherover.I

wanttofuckherlikecrazy.AndIknowthereisnofuckinginmyfutureifIcan’tgetpastherrules
andregulations.

Ineedtoplaythisright.EverymomentcountswithEllieHatcher.
“See,”Isay.“It’sfun.Youlikefun,don’tyou,Ellie?You’renotreallyafun-sucker,areyou?”I

evenwinkather.

Shesighsandmygazeislockedonherlips.Fuck.ThethingsIwanttodotoherlips.“Idolike

fun,Mac.ButIlikefunthatdoesn’tenduphurtingmeandyou…you’reso…perfect.It’sabadsign.”

“Abadsign?”Iask.“Sincewhenisperfectbad?”
“Well,nobody’sperfect.Soit’sanillusion.”
“IneversaidIwasperfect,Ellie.”
“Yeah,butyouhaveitall.You’rerich,you’revery…handsome.Andyouhavealotofpower.”
“You’renothurtingformoney,Ellie.Iknowwhatyoumakeandit’saverycomfortableliving.

Andyou’refarprettierthanIamhandsome.”

“Nicesave.”Shelaughs.
“Seriously.Youhavethisgirl-next-doorthinggoingforyouthatdrivesguyslikemewild.”
“Guyslikewhat?”sheasks.“Whatkindofguyareyou,McAllisterStonewall?BecauseIlooked

youuponlineandyoubarelyexist.Ithinkthat’ssuspicious.”

“So,notperfect,right?”Notatallperfect.Shejustdoesn’tknowhowimperfectIamyet.
“No,ofcoursenot.Iunderstandthere’snosuchthingasperfection.I’mjustsayingyoucomeoff

asperfect,whichmeansit’salie.”

“Keeptalking,”Isay.“Andkeeptouchingyourselfasyoudoit.”
Sherollshereyesandlowersherhand.“Ifeelridiculous.”
“Why?Youdon’twanttoturnmeon?”
Shesmilesbigasshecloseshereyesandthrowsherheadback,exposingherthroatforme.

Damn,Imightnotbeabletomakeitthroughbreakfast.“DoIturnyouon,Mr.Stonewall?”

“MissHatcher,Icannotstopthinkingaboutyou.EversinceIstartedreadingthosetextsI’ve

becomeobsessed.”

Istandupandpushthecartaside.Elliestarts,thenstraightensherbackandstaresupintomyeyes.

Shelooks…fuck.Perfect.She’stheonewho’sperfect,notme.Istepforwardandsheleansback
againstthewindow.

“Let’sskipthefood.Wecangivethatanothertrylater.Butnow,Ijustwanttotouchyou.Watch

yourfaceasImakeyoufeelgood.”Shecan’ttakehereyesoffmeasIfistmycockandstartpumping
again.“Getonyourkneesandturnaround.Facethewindow.”

Shechewsonherliplikeshe’sthinkingthisover.Butwebothknowshe’sgoingtodoit.There’s

nowayshe’dbehavingbreakfasttoplessifshewasn’tin.

“Doit,”Isay,justtomakeherstopthinkingaboutit.
Sheswallowshardandstandsup.Ipalmherbreastforasecondbeforesheturns,thenkneels

downonthewindowseatwithherbacktome.

“Placeyourhandsonthewindow.”
Shedoes,herpalmsslightlyaboveherhead.Andthensheleansforwardandrestsherforeheadon

theglass,likesheneedsthesupport.ItraceafingertipdownherspineuntilherbackbucklesandI
takethatmomentofdistractiontopushherheadforward,applyingenoughpressuresothatshehasto
turnhercheeksideways.

Idon’teaseupeventhoughIcanseehereyessearchingformine.I’mprobablyjustoutsideher

fieldofvisionthough,soshecan’tseemuch.

Ireacharoundtounbuttonhertrousers,andthenIslipmyhanddownherstomachuntilI’m

cuppingherpussy.

“Jesus,Mac.”
“What?”Iaskinathroatyvoice.“Tellme.”
“I’mjust…Ijustdon’tknowwhyI’mdoingthis.”
“Becauseitfeelsgood,Ellie.Youlikeit.It’sjustfun.Whyareyousoworriedabouthavingfun

andenjoyingyourself?”Itracealittlecirclearoundherclit,pushingmyfingertipinsideherwet
openingandthenquicklywithdrawing.“Tellmewhatyoulike.”

Sheexhalesloudlyandshakesherhead.
“Why?”
“I’mnotthatkindofgirl,Mac.I’mnotthekindofgirlwhofucksherboss,ortalksdirty,orany

ofthat.”

“That’swhatmakesitsodesirableforme.Iliketopushyououtsideyourcomfortzone.Nowtell

mewhatyoulikeandI’lldoit.I’lldowhateveryousay.Ijustwanttohearit.”

She’ssilentforafewmoments,butIdon’tpushbecauseshedidn’tsayno.Soshe’sthinking.Ican

definitelybepatientforthis.

Iwigglemyfingertipagainstherclitandshesays,“That.”
“What?Sayit.”
“Yourfingersweepingaroundmyclit,butnevertouchingit.”
“Itmakesyouwantmore?”
“Yes,itdoes,”shebreathes.
“Morewhat?Talktomelikeadirtyslut,Ellie,andI’llmakeyoucomesohard,yourlegswill

spasmandyourbodywillcollapse.”

Iwaitforthesnarkycomeback,butshestayssilent.Notwillingtostopme.Notwillingtobreak

theflowofwhatwe’redoing.Notreadytogivein,butdefinitelynotgivingup.

“Ilikewhenyou…Ilikeitwhenyouflickrightthere.”
Rightthereisnotherclit,butit’sclose.“Soyoulikethetease.Iliketheteasetoo.IfIwastheone

whowasgoingtocomerightnowI’dbetellingyoutosuckthetipofmydick,butnotputmywhole
cockinyourmouth.Justplaywithitforalittlebit.Makemewantmore.”

“Iwantyoutopressyourfingersinsideme.Justalittle.Thentakethemoutandteasemesome

more.Iwantyoutosqueezemybreastsandbendmeover.Iwanttoimagineyoustaringatmypussy
likethat.”

Iwrapmyhandaroundherthroat,pullingherbacktowardsme.Iholdherupbyplacingmyarm

underhers,then,onceshe’sonherfeet,Iturnusbotharoundandwalkherovertoherdeskandbend
herover.

Herwide-leggedpantsaredownaroundheranklessoherassisperfectlypositionedformeto

stickmycockinsideher.

Idon’t,ofcourse.She’sgoingtoregretthisfive-dateminimumthing.I’mgoingtomakesureof

it.

“Mac,”shesaysinalowwhisper.“Putyourfingersinme.”

“I’lldoyouonebetter,”Isay,crouchingdownandspreadingherasscheeksapartsoIcanslipmy

tonguebetweenherlegs.Herupperbodyshootsup,soIsmackheronce,hard,andsay,“Relax,Miss
Hatcher.Enjoy.IknowIam.”

Ilickher,andthenIhoistherupandpushherontothedesk,herpalmsflatonthetabletop,her

kneesspreadwide,herfaceredwithheatanddesire.Ilickherpussy.Upanddowntheentirelengthof
herfolds.ThenIstandandthrusttwofingersinsideherasmythumbpushesagainstthepuckeredbud
ofherass.

Shewiggles,butIpushdownonherback.“Staystill,”Isay,asIpumpherhard.Shemoansand

wrigglesmore,soIwithdrawmyfingersandslidethemrapidlyupanddowntheentirelengthofher
pussy.

“There,”shemoans.“There.Rightthere.”
“Here?”Iaskthroughmysmile.“Righthere?”
“Yes,”shepants.“Yes.”Butthistimeit’samoan.
“Areyougoingtocome,Ellie?”
“Yes,”shesays,butshe’sbuckingherbackandtryingtotwistawayfromthefriction,likeit’stoo

muchtotake.Likesheneedsrelief.

Sheneedsreliefallright.Butit’snotfrommytouch.Sheneedstocome.
Iwithdrawmyhandandshegasps.“Whatareyoudoing?I’msoclose,Mac.I’msoclose!”
Ibackawayandshelooksoverhershoulderatme,likeshe’sgoingtochasemedownandjump

onmydick.“Bestill,”Isay.“Iwantsomethingoutofthistoo.”

“What?”shemoans.
“Ican’tfuckyourpussyuntilwehavemoredates.Butyouneversaidanythingaboutyourass.”
“Noway,”shesaysinaloudvoice.“Nope.I’veneverdonethat,Mac.AndIneverwill.”
“YouwillbegforitrightnoworI’llleaveyouhanging.”
Shethrowsmeaglare.“I’llgotothebathroomandgetmyselfoff.I’mnotdoingthat.”
“Why?”Iask,pickingupapadofbutterfromthebreakfastcart.
Hereyesgetwideasshewatches.“Whatareyoudoing?”
Iplacethelittlegoldenpacketbetweenmypalmsandrubituntilitgetswarmandsoft.“I’mgoing

tousethisaslube.Unlessyou’vegotsomestashedinyourdesk.Iknowyoudon’t,becauseIbought
thedeskyesterday.Ican’tfuckyourassunlesswehavelube.”

“Youcan’tfuckmyassperiod.”
Ismileandnod.“Icanalwaysspitonit.”SheshootsmeahorrifiedlookandIalmostlaugh.“Lie

backdown.Youwon’tgettoodirty.”

“No!”sheyells.“I’mnotdoinganyofthat!”
“Ellie,becalm.Justrelax.Youcansaynoanytimeyouwant.Butletmeshowyouhowgoodit

feelsfirst.Thenifyou’restillnotsure,I’llbackoffandlickyourclituntilyoucome.”

Shemakesaweirdface.Likeshe’shavingsomekindofinternalbattle.
“Youdon’twanttosayno,Ellie.Youreallydon’twanttomissthis,Ipromise.Whenmydickis

insideyourassandmyhandreachesaroundtoplaywithyourclit,youwillcomesohard,mydick
willachebecauseyou’reclenchingitsotight.”

Sheshakesherheadno.
“Yes,”Isayforcefully.“Justletmetryandyoucanstopmeifyouhateit.”Imoveforwardand

pushherdown,pressingheragainstthedesk.Helegsareoffthedesknow,herfeetonthefloor
again,butthat’sOK.That’sjustwhereIneedthem.

“Mac—”
“Shhh,”Isay.“Justletmeplaywithyouforamoment.Thentellmeno.”Ireachbetweenherlegs

andshe’ssofuckingwet.Ipumpherpussyafewtimes,collectingherjuicesonmyfingers,thendrag

ituptoherasshole.Ialmostdon’tneedthelube,butI’vealreadygotherthinkingaboutthebutterand
Ikindalikethat.It’sdirty.It’sfun.Andshewillneverlookatapadofbutterthesameagain.

“Areyoulaughing?”sheasks.
“Quiet,”Isay,tuckingmysmileawayasIpositionmycockrightbetweenherlegs.Itpokesher

pussyandsheclenchesherteethtogether.IknowshewouldnottellmenoifIwantedtofuckher
pussyinstead.She’ssodamnready.Buthey,rulesarerules,right?

Iopenthelittlefoilpacketandsmearitoverherasshole.
Sheletsoutasoftsighofair.SoIdoitagain,pressingalittlehardersoitleavesaslicktrail.
ThenIpressmyfingerupagainstherpuckerandpush,justateeny,tinybit.
“Oh,fuck.”
“Right?”Ipassmydickacrossherass,thenletitslipdownbetweenherlegs.Shethrowsherhead

backlikeIjustdidsomethingveryright.Anyonecanmakeagirlcomewithadickinherpussy.But
anal,yeah.Thattakesalittlemoreskill.

Ipushmyfingerinalittlemore,myotherhandstillmassagingherwiththetipofmydick.I

reallywouldn’tmindlickingher,butshit,IonlyhavetwohandsandeverythingI’mdoingrightnow
feelsperfect.

“Doyoulikeit?”Iask.
“It’snotinyet.”
“Wantmetotrytoputitin,Ellie?”
Shebitesherlip,hereyesclosed,herfacecalmasIplaywithher.
“Ellie?”
“OK.Butgoveryslow,”shesaysinalowvoice.
“Iwill,”Isay,myballstighteningwithanticipation.“Ipromise.”Ifistmycockandpressthehead

upagainsther,pushinginslightly.Shegasps,thenherhandsballupintofistsasshetriestostaycalm.
“Trytorelax,”Isay,reachingaroundtorubherclit.“Takedeepbreathsandrelax.Itwillhurtfora
moment,butI’llgoslow,andthenoncewegetpastthehardpart,itwillbeeasyandyouwillnever
saynotothisagain,that’showgooditwillfeel.”

Shemoansinresponse,herfacetighteningupinagrimaceasIpushforward.
“Ow,”shesays.
Istrokeherback,draggingmyfingertiplightlyupanddownherspine.Shesighs,relaxing.Ipush

forwardonceagain.Littlegasps,short,quickbreaths,andsomuchwiggling,Ihavetograbherby
theshouldertokeepherinplace.

“Mac,”shewhines.
ButthenIgetpastthatpointIwastellingherabout.Mycockeasesinsideherassandsheletsouta

longmoan.

“See,”Isay,leaningdownoverherbody,pressingmychestagainstherback.Ilifthergoldenhair

offherneckandkissherthere,rightathernape.

SheshuddersandIeaseoutalittle,takingmytime.Goingslow.ThenIpushitbackinasIslipa

handunderherhipandbeginrubbingmyfingertipsagainstherclitintinycircles.

“Doyoulikethat?”Iask.
“Mmmm,”sheresponds.
Istrumherclitfaster.“Ilikeittoo.Yourassistight,Ellie.Andyourpussyissowet.”Isticktwo

fingersinsideherasIbiteherontheshoulderandherbodygoesstiff.ThisdrivesmecrazyandI
can’tholdback.Ipumpalittleharder.Alittledeeper.

“Oh,shit,”shesays.
Ismile.“Itfeelssogood,right?”
“Yeah,”shemoans.“Yes.”

“Youlikethistoo,Ellie?”IwhisperintoherearasIstrumherclitfaster.Ipressandflickit,then

slidemyfingersdownintoherpussy,pushingdeeperanddeeperuntilIcanfeelthepressureagainst
mycockinherass.

“Fuck,yes,”Isay.“Thenexttimewedothis,youcanlieonmystomachandI’lluseavibratoron

yourpussyasmycockfucksyourass.I’llmakeyouscream,Ellie.I’llmakeyou—”

SheclenchesandIknowit’sover.
“Oh,fuck,”shesays.“Oh,fuck,yes!”
Herwholebodygoesstill,hermouthwideopen.Ipicturemycockinsideit.Slidingagainsther

lipsasIfuckhermouth.

Somany,manythingsIwanttodowiththisgirl.
Irideoutherorgasmandwhensherelaxes,Ipullout,leanback,andcomebetweenhershoulder

blades.

She’spantinghardandIhavetoclosemyeyesforseveralsecondsuntilthepleasureebbs.
“Iwantmoreofthis,Ellie.Iwantmore.Tonight.”

ChapterEighteen-Ellie

Ijustwanttocollapsebecauseholyshit.Ihaveneverhadsexlikethatbefore.But…whatthehell

amIthinking?Whatkindofgirlletsherbossfuckherintheassinheroffice?

Me.IfIwastextingrightnow,I’dputalittlesmileyfaceafterthatadmission.
“Here,Ellie,”Macsays,comingoutofhisofficewithagarmentbagandatowel.“Staystill,”he

says,drapingthegarmentbagovermydeskchairandplacingthetowelonmyback,andbegins
gentlycleaningmeup.

It’shot.Andwet.Andfeelsgoodinthecompleteoppositewayfromthesex.Itfeels…Idon’t

know.Likehecares.Likehe’snotjustusingmeforsex.

Itfeelsthatway,butitcan’tpossiblybethatway.He’sMr.Perfect,right?Perfectguysdon’tfall

forboringgirlslikeme.

“Sotonight?”Macasks,tossingthetowelthroughtheopenconnectingdoorintohisoffice.
“Tonight?”Irepeatbackashehelpsmeup.IlookattheheapofclothingonthefloorandrealizeI

havetowearthattoworktoday.“I’mgoingtoneedtogohomeandchange.”

“No,Ellie,youwon’t.”Macpicksupthegarmentbagandgivesitashake.“Iboughtyou

something.Itdoesn’texactlysaycasualFriday,butIlikedit.”Heshrugslikehe’sapologizing.

Itakethebaghe’soffering,drapeitoverthechairagain,thenpullthezipperdowntoreveala

blush-pinkdress.Itisn’tuntilItakeitoutthatIrealizewhatI’mholding.“Isthis…Yes.Oh,myGod.
Howmuchdidyoupayforthis?”

“Eloise,”Macsays,tuckinghisshirtbackintohispantsandrunninghisfingertipsthroughhis

hair.“It’snotpolitetoask.”Heleansdownandkissesmeonthecheek.“DoesSaturdayhavean
outfit?”

Holyshit.“Um,no.IstayhomeonSaturdays.”
“Notthisweekendyouwon’t,”Macsays.“I’vegotplansandtheystarttonight.”
Wait.Eerrrrrrrrrt.
That’smestompingonthebrakes.Aweekendwithhim?ThreedaysagoIdidn’tevenknowhe

existed.IrealizeI’vehadsexwithhimtwiceandhadsomealmost-sextwoothertimes,soIdo,infact,
appeartobeasluttywhore.ButI’mnotasluttywhore.Andwhileallthishasbeenfun,I’mleaving
thisjobintwelvedaysandalltheseofficeshenaniganswillstop.

He’sprobablygoingtogivethisofficetosomeoneelse.AndthenthatgirlwillhavealltheperksI

amcurrentlybeginningtoenjoy.

“Um,Mac,”Isay,blinkingupathimwithasmile.“NormallyIdostayhomeonSaturdayandjust

hangoutinshortsandstuff.ButthisweekendI’mgoingaway.I’msorry.”

Hisbrowsfurrowsodeep,theymightactuallymeetatthebridgeofhisnose.“Withwho?”
“Well,notthatit’sreallyyourbusiness,andIdorealizethatwe’vehadsomefun,soan

explanationisnecessary,butit’sconfidential.Youunderstand,right?”

“It’sAndrewManco,isn’tit?Icouldtellhelikedyouwhenhecalledmetheotherday.”
Andrew?That’sactuallyaprettygoodidea.“Ican’tsayonewayoranother.I’msorry.Isigned

agreements,youknow?Confidentialitythings.”

“He’ssoyoung,Ellie,”Macsays.“Howoldishe?Nineteen?”

Ilaugh.“He’snotnineteen.He’slike,twenty-two.”
Mac’sdeepbrowfurrowsareback.“You’regoingoutwithhimthisweekend?”
“Ican’tsay,Mac.Really,I’msorry.”
“You’regoingtohishome?You’llbegoneallweekend?”
“Mac,”Isay,takingtheabsolutelygorgeousdressoutofthegarmentbag.Iknowhowmuchthis

dresscosts.Thousandsofdollars.Andhejustpurchaseditformesohecouldgethiswaythis
morningandnotcomeoutofitlookinglikeapig.“I’mjustnotcomfortablediscussingAndrewwith
you,OK?Iknowwe’vehadhadthiswhirlwindthinggoingthisweek,butthreedays,OK?Threedays
isnotarelationship.AndI’mquitting—”

Macholdupahandtostopme.“Iunderstandallthat,andyou’reright,you’redefinitelya…a

whirlwind.”Hestraightenshisjacketandthennods.“SoI’llleaveyoutoit.Haveaniceweekend,
Eloise.Ihopeyouhaveagoodtime.”

Heforcesaweaksmileashewalksbackintohisofficeandclosesourconnectingdoor.
Idon’tknowwhattothinkaboutanyofthat.Orthisdress.It’ssuchaprettyshadeofblushpink.

Andit’sgottagsonit.Idon’tmindspendingahundreddollarsonadress,buttwothousand?Nope.
Neverhappening.IbetevenifIfoundthisdressinathriftstorefiveyearsfromnowitwouldstillbe
markedoutofmybudget.

Oneproblem.Idon’thaveabra.Iwaswearingacamitoday.Fridaysarecasual,whichmeansno

pokywireundermytitsforonewholeworkday.

Islipthedressonanyway—whatchoicedoIhave—andrealizeIhaveanotherproblemaswell.

It’sgotabackzip.

Fuck.
TheconnectingdooropensagainandMacistheremouthopenlikehe’sgoingtoaskme

something.Butinsteadallhesaysis,“Oh,hell.”Heclosesthedooranddisappears.

Ismile.Becausethatwasdefinitelyagood,Oh,hell.
Iwalkovertryingtostopgrinninglikeanidiotandopenthedoorbackup.“It’sgotazip,Mac.

Canyouhelpme?”

He’sgothishandinhishairlikehewasjustrunninghisfingersthroughit.“Uh,sure.”
IbitemylipasIturnandpullmyhairawayfrommyback.Thezipisrestingonthesmallofmy

back,andassoonashisfingerstouchmyskin,Igetaprickleofexcitement.Hepullsthezipper
closedslowlyandthenstopsrightasitreachesthewidestpartofmyback.Ihaveamomentofpanic
thatthedresswon’tfit,butheadjuststhefabricandfinishes.

Ilookovermyshoulderandsmile.“It’sadoublezip.Sothebottompartunzipsupward.”Right

betweenmythighs,Idon’tadd.“Canyoudothatparttoo?”

Hesquintshisblueeyesatme,thenhisgazefallsdownthelengthofmybackside.It’sapencil

dress,Irealize.Andit’shuggingmyshapelikeaglove.“No,”Macsays.

“Excuseme?”Ilaugh.
He’sshakinghishead.“No.Thisisthewrongdressforwork.IsAndrewpickingyouupfrom

work?”

“ItoldyouIcan’ttalkaboutit.”
“Well,thatzipperwasnotmeanttoberevealing,Eloise.It’sadecorationonly.”
“Idon’tthinkso,Mac.Ithinkit’ssoIcanmovemylegs.”Ishimmyforwardandthedressdoesits

besttokeepmykneestightlytogether.“IfthiswasanightoutIcouldseeit.It’ssexy,right?ThewayI
havetotakethesesmallsteps.Butatwork,Mac?Doyoureallywantmetobesquirmingaroundthe
officetodaywigglingmyhipswitheverystep?”

Helooksconflictedashescratcheshischinandstudiesthedilemma.
“It’seitherunzipmealittleorhavemewiggleallday.Yourchoice.”

Heunzipsjustenoughtoreleasethetightfabricfrommyknees.“Thankyou,”Isay.“Andthiswas

fun.Sothanksforthattoo.”Iwalkbackintomyofficeandhefollows,leaningagainstthedoorjamb.

Hefrownsatme.“WhattimewillyoubehomeSunday?”Ipauseforamoment,wonderinghow

farIshouldletthisrusego,butbeforeIcananswer,hesays,“YouarecominghomeSunday?You’ll
behereforpencilskirtandbutton-downshirtMonday?”

“AreyouplanningonrippingmyclothesoffmeagainonMonday?”
“I’mnotsure,Ellie.IsthisthingwithAndrewserious?”
Wow.Ithinkhemightbejealous.Ofakid!WhomIwouldnever,everdate.IthinkofAndrewasa

littlebrother.“We’refriends,”Isay.“AndIcareabouthimalot.”Whichistrue.He’soneofmycase
studiesinthebook,soI’minvestedinhissuccess.

“OK.”Macsighs.“Well,I’llcallthecaterersandhavethemcometakethebreakfastcartaway.”
“Caterers?Ithoughtthisstuffcamefromthecafeteria?”
“No,”Macsayswithasmilethatdoesn’treachhiseyes.Ithinkhe’sdisappointedthatIruinedhis

weekendplans.“WhatkindofguywouldIbeifIdidn’tgoalloutforyou?”

“Well,”Isay.“Idon’tknowwhattothinkaboutallthis,Mac.I’mgoingtobehonest.Soit’sa

goodthingwe’renotgoingoutthisweekend.It’stoomuch,toofast.”

“Gotit,”Macsays.“Ifyoudon’twanttobeherewhentheycomecleanup,youcangoandcome

backlater.Haveagreatweekend,Ellie.I’lltalktoyounextweek.”

ThistimewhenheclosesthedoorIknowhe’snotcomingback.Myhearthasalittleacheinit.

LikeIshouldcallafterhim.Fessupandjustbehonest.

ButIdon’t.BecauseIneedtothinkaboutallthisbeforethingsgettoofarandIcan’tturnback.

ChapterNineteen-Mac

Thisisthelongestweekendofmylife.Firstofall,Fridaysucked.SuckedwithacapitalS.The

dressIgaveEllielookedlikeitwaspaintedon.

Notetoself.NexttimeIbuyherareplacementoutfitforwork,makeittheshapelesstrousersshe

cameinwearing.

Oh,thatdresswasafabulousideaifshedecidedtospendtheweekendwithme.Iwasgoingto

fakeourwaythroughafewmorehoursatworkandthenwhiskherofftodinner,ashowdowntown,
andthenbacktomyplaceforaweekendofdirtysex,room-servicebreakfasts,andelegant
restaurantsatnight.

Clearly,Iamasdelusionalassheis.
WhichbringsmebacktoHeath’sphone.
Icannotstopreadinghermessages.
Lookatthisnursery.Ifwehaveaboyhisroomwillbepalebluelikethis.
Itcamewithsevenattachedpicturesofanurseryfilledwitheverythingababymightwant,

completewithBabyBoyEllieandHeathcombinationPhotoshoppedin.

Thegirl’snurserywaslightpinkandyellow,andyes,shehadastand-inHeath-and-Elliebabyfor

thosepicturestoo.

Shecan’treallyhavebeenseriousaboutHeath.He’ssuchafuckup.Andevenwhenshewas

messaginghimnormalstuff,beforehegotsenttoChinatwomonthsagoandshewentoffthe
delusionalMr.Perfectdeepend,hedidnotshoweventheslightestinterestinEllie.Notlikethat,
anyway.Hismessageswereallbusiness.

Canyougetso-and-soonsuch-and-suchshow?CantheyflyinWednesdayinsteadofThursday?

CanyoubeinthemeetingIhavewithmyfathertoexplainwhatwe’redoingwiththeairportbudget?

Notevenoncedidhethankher.Andsure,it’spossiblehecould’vethankedherinperson,but

knowingHeaththewayIdo,hedidn’t.

Andthegoddamnedpuppies.OldEnglishSheepdogs.It’slikeeverykid’sdreamdog.Noonegets

asheepdog.Theyhaveallthathair,they’rebig,theyneed…sheep.Orsomething.Farms.Lotsofcare
requirementsforsheepdogs.

ButElliehasherheartsetonone.
Ichecktheclockonmyphoneagain.Eight.Sundaynight.Isshehomeyet?Idon’twanttocall.I

reallydon’twanttocallher.It’ssofuckingpathetic.

ItabmycontactsandslidedowntoNolan’sface,thenpressit.
Itringstwiceandgoestovoicemail.
Figures.Iendthecall,butjustasquickasIdothat,itringsback.
“Hey,”IsaytoNol.
“What’sup,Perfect?”Hesoundsbeat.Nodoubttryingtorecoverfromsomecrazyweekend.
“Um,”Isay.WhydidIcall?Advice?FromNolanDelaney?Please.Hemighthavehadmoregirls

inoneweekthanI’vehadthewholelastyear,butMr.Romanticheisnot.Hegotthatnicknameback
incollegewhenthepresshadtocallussomethingandthegagorderpreventedanyonefromusing
ourrealnames.

“Girlproblems?”
“No.Asshole.Whydoyouaskthat?”
“Dude,youalwayscallwhenyou’vegotgirlproblems.AndIalwaystellyouthesamething.Just

ignorethem,man.That’sthetickettocatchingthatelusivefish.Yougottaignorethemandtheycome
running.”

“Thatneverworks,Nol.”
“Worksformeeverytime,Mac.You’redoingitwrong.Yougottabefirm.Bepissedoff.”
“Pissedoffoverwhat?”
“Whateveritisshe’sdoingthat’sgotyoucallingme,dumbass.Whatdidshedo?”
“Ididn’tcallforagirl,Nol.Ijustwantedtoseewhatyouwereupto.”
“Right,”hemumbles,thensoundslikehe’stakingalongdrinkofsomething.Probablywhiskey.

“Well,I’minVegas.”

“Figures.Yougetlucky?”
Helaughs.“Withgirlsorwithgambling?”
“Whichever.”
“Well,Ididn’tgetluckywitheitherbecauseI’mhereonbusiness.YoueverhearofAndrew

Manco?”

“Why?”Igrowl,instantlypissedoffatthementionofthatjerk’sname.
“Oh,he’sgotthisfuckingfabulouspieceoftech,right?Hewasononeofyourshowslastweek

—”

Yeah.That’swhyhewashere.Asshole.
“—andhewasdemonstratingthisvirtualrealityvacationthing.Amazing,dude.Justamazing.SoI

gotthenewclubslashresortgoingupoutnearBorregoSpringsandIwasthinkingofputtinginone
ofhissystems.”

“Likevirtualsex?”Ican’tevenimaginewhatheistalkingabout.
“No,butthat’sagreatfuckingidea.I’mgonnaaskhimaboutitthenexttimeIseehim.”
“Youknowhim?”
“Oh,Iguess.IsawhimFridaynight.HereinVegas.”
“Vegas.ThatfuckertookhertoVegas?”
“Tookwho?”
“Ellie.ThegirlI’mcallingabout.”
“Iknewyouwerecallingaboutagirl.Dumbass.She’sdatingAndrewManco?Howoldisshe?

He’skindayoung,right?Gotthatwholecollegestart-upthinggoingthesedays.”

“Right?Andshe’stwenty-seven.”
“Cougaraction.Huh.”
“Didyouseeher?She’smediumheight,cuteasfuck,shoulder-lengthblondehair,andshe

might’vebeenwearingaverytightpinkpencildressthatIboughther.”

“Nah,hewasaloneonFriday.Ididn’ttalktohimSaturdayorSunday,toomanypeoplearoundhis

booth—”

“Whatbooth?”
“Atthetechconvention.Hewaskeynoteandtheyhadthisgreatdemoafterward.Don’tyouwatch

yourownshows?That’swhyhewasonlastweek.BigtechconvoinVegas.Allthelatestshit.AndI
swear,I’mputtinginanorderforthatVRsetuponMonday.Igotbigplans,Mac.Big,bigplans.Hey,
youknowanyonewhomightbeagoodcandidatetomanageanewplaceinthedesert?Mymainchick
justquit.SaysI’m,quote,‘Incorrigible,haveineradicablydeviantsexualtendencies,andapersonality
akintoAmericanPsycho.’Unquote.Bitch.SheshouldmeetMr.Mysterious.Thenshe’dreallyknow
whatallthosefancywordsmean.Don’teverhaveanofficefling,Mac.Theyalwaysfuckyouoverin

theend.”

Jesus.WhydidIcallhim?WhothehellwouldtakegirladvicefromNolanDelaney?“Whowould

Iknow?”Isay,ignoringhisweirdoutburstaboutsexualtendenciesaswellashis‘advice’.“I’vebeen
outoftheloopfortenyears.CallMr.Corporate.”

“Yeah,I’mgonnahaveto,Ithink.Ihaven’ttalkedtohiminoverayear,buthe’sgotallthe

connectionsIneedrightnow.Mr.FuckingCorporate.”

“SonoEllie,huh?Notevenhangingaroundtheperiphery?”
“Nah,nogirlsinhisbooth.Justnerdytechguys.Anddefinitelynohotlittleblondeshangingnear

thevirtualrealityshit.”

“Hmmm.”
“Wasshesupposedtobethere?”
“Yeah.”Isigh.“OK,well,itwasgreatcatchingup.I’lltalktoyousoon.Andgoodluckwiththe…

whateveritis.”

“Sure.Andremember,ignorethefuckoutofher.Itgetsthemeverytime.”
“Right.”
“Later,man.”
Itabendandthenlookdownatthephone.ShouldIcallandaskherwhatthehell?Clearlyshewas

notwithAndrewthisweekend.Ontheotherhand,sheneveractuallysaidshewasgoingwithhim.She
evadedthequestionslikeapro.

No.I’mnotcallingher.Sheblewmeoff.Onehundredpercentblewmeoff.
WasIadick?DidIinsultherwiththesex?Itwasfun,right?
Maybethat’sallitwas.Justaquickiebeforeshequits.Justsomethingsafe.Somethingshecan

walkawayfrominaweekandneverlookback.

MaybeNolisright.Maybeshe’snotinterested.MaybeIneedtoignoreher.MaybeIneedtocut

herloosebeforeshecutsme.

MaybeIneedtocutthiswholegoddamnedcompanyloosebeforeIgetlostinsomelife-sucking

corporateexistenceliketherestofmyfriends.

Iopenthemessagestreamshe’sbeensendingtoHeathandshakemyhead.Sheseemedsonice.So

damncute.AperfectchangefromthewomenIoccasionallydate.

ButIguessit’sfake.Iguessshe’snothingbutafake.

ChapterTwenty-Ellie

IhaveneversolookedforwardtoaMondaymorninglikeIdidthisone.AllweekendIthought

aboutMac.What’shedoing?DidhetakesomeoneelseoutafterIsaidno?Takethemtodinner?Fuck
themafterward?

Probably.Andwhynot?HeofferedthegoodtimestomeandIsaidno.Ihavenoexcusetobemad

ifhedid.

Iwon’tbemad.Iwon’t.
Ilookatmyselfintherear-viewmirrorasIcheckmylipstickandmakeaface.
Iwillbemad.There’snowayIwon’tbemad.Idon’tcarehowstupiditis,he’sgottenundermy

skin.Iliterallyknownothingaboutthisguyexcepthesurecanfuck—andhisdickfeelsnice.Hell,his
tonguefeelsnicetoo.Andhistouch.

Focus,Ellie.
Iknownothingabouthimbutthat.AndI’veworkedhereforsevenyearsandheneveroncecame

tothecompany.Why?

It’snotlikeIjustmissedhimorhecameinsecretly.Notlikehe’ssomekindofhands-off,behind-

the-sceneskindofexecutive.

No.I’vebeenoutonthattarmaceverydayofthosesevenyearsandhe’snevergottenoffajet.I’ve

neverevenseenthatjet.WhatkindofmoneydotheStonewallsreallyhave?Scaryamounts,thatmuch
issure.

Iguesshecould’vedriven.ButMr.StonewallSeniorneverdrives.It’snothingbutjetsforthat

family.Heathlivedlocally,soheonlytookthejetwhenhehadtodobusinessoutoftown.

Andwhyisn’tMacontheinternetwhenIsearch?StonewallSeniorisfamous.Hell,there’saton

ofstuffaboutHeathonlineaswell.Theyhaveasister,Camille,andshe’snotasvisibleasHeath,but
there’slotsofsocietyphotosofherinballgownshangingonthearmsofvariousbachelorsatcharity
events.

There’sjustsomethingoffaboutamanfromafamousfamilynothavinganonlinepresence.

Somethingstrange.Likehe’shiding.

Whatishehidingfrom?
That’smymissionthisweek,IdecideasIgrabmypurse,getoutofthecar,andclosethedoor.

I’mgoingtofigureoutwhat’supwithhispast.

ItfeelsweirdtowalkintotheAtriumthismorning.LastweekIparkedoutbytheairportandwent

intomyoldofficetoseeMinginthemornings.ButtodayIparkedinthemainparkinglot.

It’snotbecauseofMac,Itellmyself.It’snot.
ButassoonasIwalkthroughthedoorandintotheseven-storybuilding,Ifindmyselflookingup.

Allthewayuptothetopfloor.

Idon’tseethemulti-coloredpicnictablesfilledwithpeopleleaningoverlaptopsandchatting

overcoffeewithco-workers.Orthesix-storywaterfallsurroundedbypalmtrees.Orthemonstrous
slidestwistingtheirwaydownthecenterofthelobby.

JustthetippytopofthisworldwhereMacexists.Igetinoneoftheglass-walledelevatorsandtake

inthesceneryasweascend.I’veneverpaidmuchattentiontothebuildingwhileontheelevator

before.UsuallywhenIcomeuphereit’sforameetingI’drathernotbeat.Butnow…thisismynew
world.

Well,foranotherweek,anyway.I’mstillquitting.
Butit’snicewhileitlasts.IreallyhavetohandittoStonewallSenior.HemadeStonewall

Entertainmentaveryniceplacetowork.AndeventhoughIdidn’tenjoymanyoftheperksoverthe
yearssinceIwasoutattheairport,Iappreciatethefactthathewenttosomuchtroubletomakework
pleasantforhisemployees.

Iprobablycould'vewalkedupfaster,that’showlongittakestostopateveryfloor,butthenI’dbe

allsweatyandoutofbreathwhenIsawMac.SoIstandpatientlyaspeoplegetonandoff,andwhen
wefinallydoreachtheseventhfloor,it’sjustmegettingoff.

IsmileatStephanieasIapproachthecornerofficesandshenodsasshetalksonthephone.Mac’s

doorisclosed,butmineisn’t.Sothat’swhereIgo.

Myofficeisbrightandcheery.Iabsolutelyloveit.It’ssome.Howdidheknowwhatstyle

furnitureIlike?Thewhitewritingdeskhasanantiquefinishthatcomplementstheshabbychicfeelof
theplace.Idropmypurseonthedeskandsinkintotheleatherchair.It’snotasbigasMac’s,butit’s
farbettersuitedtoawomanandthisoffice.Anditfeelswonderfulonmyback.

IhavetoshakemyheadalittleasIpicturemyoldofficedownattheairport.Themetaldesk,the

creakychair.Ineverspentmuchtimedowntherebecauseitjustwasn’taplaceyouwantedtobe.
Walkingguestsaroundcampuswasbetterthanbeinginthatdepressingspaceallday.

AknockatmydoorpullsmebacktoattentionandmyheartfluttersforamomentasIcallouta

cheery,“Comein!”

Macopensthedoorconnectingouroffice,walksin,closesit,andthentakesaseatinoneofthe

twochairsinfrontofmydesk.Hecrossesafootoverhiskneeandleansback,lookingalittleblasé
andcoolashefoldshishandsinhislap.

AndeventhoughI’mtheonesittingbehindthedeskandheistheonesittinginfrontofit,I

suddenlyfeellikeI’vebeencalledtotheprincipal’soffice.“Um,”Isay.“IseverythingOK?”

Hesmiles,butit’snotthecharmingsmileI’vecometoexpectfromMac.“Howwasyour

weekend?”heasks.

“Itwasnice,”Isay,immediatelysuspicious.“Howwasyours?”
“Oh,”hesays,pickingapieceoflintoffhislightgraysuitandthensmoothingthefabricwitha

brushingmotion.“Slightlyboring.”

I’mrelieved.“Soyoudidn’ttakeanyoneelseoutinmyplace?”Iask,hintingaroundforanswers.
“No,”hesays.“Nope.Suredidn’t.Justsatathomeinmyapartment.Lookingoutthewindow.

Talkedtoanoldfriendlastnightthough.Thatwasenlightening.”

“Oh,”Isay,gettinganotherveryweirdvibefromhim.“Didyoulearnsomethingnew?”His

silenceismakingmeuncomfortable.It’smakingmefeellikeIdidsomethingwrong.

“Idid.Infact,myfriendsaidhewasinVegasthisweekend.WereyouinVegasthisweekend,

Ellie?”

Ishakemyheadwithasmile.“Nope.Isurewasn’t.”
“Well,that’sinteresting.BecausemyfriendsaidhesawAndrewMancotheredemonstratingsome

techthingataconference.”

Shit.“Mac,Ineversaid—”
“Irealizethat,”heinterrupts.“Iabsolutelyrealizethat,Ellie.Youneversaidit,younever

confirmedit,IwastheonewhomadeuptheweekendwithAndrew.SonotthatIgiveafuckanymore,
butwhowereyouwiththisweekend?”

NotthatIgiveafuckanymore?Whatthehellisthat?HistonehasturnedhostileandIsquirmin

mychairalittle.“Iwasn’twithanyone.Iwasjustathomealone.”

“Soyouliedtome.”Hismannerisclippedandquick.
“Ididn’t—”
“Youdid,”hesays,almostgrowlingthewords.“Andyouknowwhat,Ellie?Whateverthereason

wasthatyoudidn’twanttoseemethisweekend,Iwould’vebeenOKwithitifithadbeenthetruth.
ButIcan’tdealwithliars.I’vehadalotofexperiencewithliesinmylifeandIdon’tputupwithit.
Notevensmallones.Sowhateveryourreasonwasforlyingtome,Idon’tcare.I’monlyinyour
officetogiveyouthis.”

Hereachesintohiscoatpocketandpullsoutasmallgiftwrappedinwhitepaperandtiedupwitha

pinksatinribbon.Heplacesitonthedeskandpushesitawayfromhimwithonefinger.Likeit’stoxic
andhedoesn’twanttotouchit.

“Dowhateveryouwantwithit,”Macsays.“I’mdone.”
Hegetsup,buttonshissuitcoat,walksthroughtheconnectingdoor,andthenlooksoverhis

shoulderatmeandsays,“Iwanteverybusinesscontactyouhaveonthatcomputerbeforeyouleaveat
theendoftheday.Andbeforethisweekisover,youwillhavebroughtJenniferuptospeedonyour
scheduleandhowyourunthingssothatnextweekyoucanintroducehertoallourpast,present,and
futureguestsasthemostcompetentpersontotakeoveryourjob.Iwishyoumuchsuccess,Miss
Hatcher.Perhapswe’llseeeachotheragain,butIdoubtit.”

Hepullsthedoorclosedbehindhimandthere’sthetell-talesoundofadeadboltlockclickinginto

place.Adeadboltthatwasnoteventherelastweek.

Ijuststareatthatdoor.Forwholeminutes.Wonderingjustwhatthehellhappened.He’smadatme

fortellinghimtheequivalentof,“Ican’tgooutbecauseIhavetowashmyhair?”

Seriously?
I’mnottheonewhomadeupthatstoryaboutAndrew.Hewas.Ididn’tconfirmordeny.Sohowis

itmyfaultthatheconjuredupsomenon-existentsexyweekendbetweenAndrewandme?

Ican’teven.
Andwhatthehellisthisgiftheleft?Ipickitup.Theboxissmall.Onlyalittlelargerthanadeck

ofcards.Ipullonthepinksatinribbonanditfallsapart,thencarefullyunwrapthethickwhitepaper
andremovethelidoffthebox.

Insideisaphone.
Withastickynoteonitthatsays,Youneedprofessionalhelp.
MyjawdropsasIflickthescreentolifeandrealizeit’sHeath’sphone.Mydelusionalmessage

streamwithHeathisopenwhenitcomestolife.Allthethingsthatneverhappenedbetweenusareon
display.

Thedreamhouse,thefakeinteriordesign,thebabiesIimaginedushaving,thepuppyIenvisioned

rompingaroundoursuburbanfarm,thePinterestboardlinksandscreenshots.

Allofit.
IclickthelinkstothePinterestboardformyofficegossipstuffjusttoseeifhedidhaveaccess,

andnope.Itsayspagenotfound.

Sowhothehellishetolecturemeaboutlyingwhenheusedthatlietoblackmailmelastweek?
Iamfumingmad.
ButthereisnowayIwillevengivehimthesatisfactionoftryingtoexplainmypointofview.
Fuckhim.
Justfuckhim.

ChapterTwenty-One-Ellie

IhaveatonofguestsonMondays,soIamoutofmyofficetheentiredayflittingbackandforth

betweentheairportandthestudioswiththemasItrytodomyjobtothebestofmyabilityafter
havingMcAllisterStonewallliterallyfuckmeintheassandhandmemywalkingpapers.

I’msohumiliated.Again.
BythetimeIgetbacktomyofficeontheseventhflooroftheAtrium,it’spastsixandIstillhave

totransfermycontactsintothenewofficecomputerbeforeIleave.

ThereisnowayI’mgoingtogiveMcAllisterStonewallthesatisfactionofreamingmeanewone

tomorrowmorningaswell.Noway.

ThenextmorningMr.Stonewall’sofficedoorisopenandthelightsarestilloffwhenIgetin.I

haveonehourtotalkwithJenniferaboutmydutiesbeforeIhavetobebackatthetarmacforguests,
soIsetmythingsdownandgolookingforher.

“Knock,knock,”Isayatheropendoor.She’sbusyshufflingpapersandsquintingatherlaptop

screen.

“Oh,hi,Ellie!”shesaysbrightly.“What’sup?”
“Well,Mr.Stonewallwantsmetogooverallmyjobdutieswithyouthisweek.It’sprettybusy,but

Ihaveaboutanhourrightnowtogetstartedifyouhavetime?”

“Oh,sure.Mystuffcanwait.”Shepushesbackfromherdeskandwalksovertome.“Let’sgo.”
Wewalkbacktomycornerofthefloorinsilence.Iamacutelyawareofeveryonelookingatme.

DidMactellthemsomething?Didhetellthemwewere…screwingaroundlastweek?Ormaybethey
arestillpicturingmeasIranoutoftheconferenceroomlastWednesdayscreamingtheword
‘tampon?’

JesusChrist.Getmeoutofhere.
JenniferclosesmyofficedoorbehindheroncewegetthereandItakeaseatatmydesk,pointing

tothechairinfront.“YoucanbringthataroundsoyoucanseewhatI’mdoingifyouwant.”

Jennifersmilesasshedragstheprettychairaroundtomyside,thentakesaseatandcrossesher

legs.“I’msorry,youknow.”

“Sorryforwhat?”Iask,tryingtoconcentrateonbringingupmyschedulingprogramonmy

laptop.

“Whateverhedid.Imean,itwasprettyobviousthatthetwoofyouhititofflastweekandnowit’s

prettyobviousthathe’snotspeakingtoyou.SoI’msorry.Officeromances,right?It’sdifficult.
Especiallywhenyou’redatingyourboss.”

“Oh,”Isay,tryingtosoundnonchalant.“Weweren’tdating.”
“Well,”Jennifersays.“OK.Butyouweredoingsomething.Ellentoldmeshecaughtyoutwoin

thestairsrightafteryourcompletelyhilariousexitfromthemeeting.Ihavetosay,Ellie,thatwas
epic.BestsceneeverinallmytwentyyearsinCorporateAmerica.”Jenniferlaughs,andIdon’tthink
it’samaking-funlaugheither.Ithinkshereallydidgetakickoutofmymeltdown.

I’mnotsurehowIfeelaboutthat.

“Ihearyouwroteabook?”Jennifersays.
“Let’sjusttrytoconcentrateonwork,OK,Jennifer?”Ismileather,butit’sforced.Iwanttorip

herhairoutrightnow.

“Sorry,”Jennifersays.“I’mnottryingtobemean.Ihadafewofficeaffairsinmytimeaswell.In

fact,JoeandIgotmarriedlastyear.”

“Joe?JoeFullerinaccounting?”I’veseenthemtogetheralot,andIfigureditwasanotheroneof

herflings.Butmarried?

“Yeah,he’snotasflashyasDougoverinStudioElevenproduction,buthe’sperfectforme.AndI

guessthat’sallthatmatters.”

Istareatmyscreen,quietforafewseconds.“Everyoneknows?”Iask,lookingoverather.
Shenodswithasympatheticsmile.“Everyone.Itwasprettyapparentthatyoutwohadchemistry.

Andforwhatit’sworth,Ithinkeveryonefeelsbadthatitdidn’tlast.”Shehuffsoutasmalllaugh.
“Well,exceptEllen,Ithink.She’sgotsomegranddelusionthatsheandMcAllisterStonewallare
meanttobetogether.”

“Ellen?”Irollmyeyes.She’sliketenyearsolderthanhim.
“Justignoreher.”Jenniferplacesahandonmyshoulder.“Anddon’ttellheranydetails.I’vebeen

workingwithherformanyyearsandshe’saconnivingbitch.Shewillspreadrumorsfasterthanyou
canblink.Sheoutedmeoncetoo.ButthatwaswithJoe,andwewerealreadyengaged,sonoone
cared.Besides,JoeandIareincompletelydifferentdepartments.”

“Yeah,”Isay.“HowdidInotknowanyofthis?”
Jennifershrugs.“You’vebeendownattheairportforwhat?Sevenyears?Howwouldyouknow

anything?”

“True.Ihavetoadmit,Ikindoflikeituphere.It’snicetobearoundpeople.Inallthehustleand

bustle.”

“Sucksthatyou’releaving.Youcouldalwayschangeyourmind,youknow.EvenifMcAllister

doesn’twantyouhere,StonewallSeniorwill.”

“No,”Isay,sighingouttheword.“IdidwriteabookandI’mgoingtopublishitoneofthesedays.

That’swhyI’mleaving.Ijustneedtomoveon,youknow?I’vebeenheresincecollege.It’stime.”

“Well,Idon’twantyourjob,Ellie.Mr.Stonewalltoldmetofillinforyou,butIhonestlydon’t

knowhowIcan.Ihavemyjobtoo.Andmaybeit’snotasexcitingaswhatyoudo,butIlikeit.I’m
usedtoit.AndI’mgoodatit.I’mgoingtomessupeverythingwhenyouleave.”

“No,youwon’t,”Isay,smiling.“I’llshowyoueverything.Andifyouhavetimethisweek,I’ll

evenletyoucomewithme.”

“Thatwouldbegreat,”Jennifersays.“I’llmakesometime.”

Jenniferdoesaccompanyme,andIdogetalltheschedulinginformationtoherbeforetheweekis

over.ButeventhoughI’veaccomplishedeverythingMactoldmetothisweek,Ifeelletdown.

It’sFridaymorningandthisisthefirstdayMacevencameintotheoffice.Icanhearhimtalking

onthephoneinhisofficerightnow.It’skillingme.

Iwantnothingmorethantoburstinthereandtellhimoff.
Infact,I’veenvisioneditallweek.Ipicturemyselfwalkinginthere,slammingthatconnecting

door,andjustlayingintohim.

AndthenIcompletelylosetouchwithreality,becauseIpicturehimpushingmeupagainstawall

andkissingmeashishandslipsupmydress.

Yes.Iworeadresstodayeventhoughit’scasualFriday.
Thedress,infact.Thetwo-thousand-dollarVictoriaBeckhampencildress.

AndIdidn’tunzipthebottom.Onpurpose.Iwanttoparademywigglingassaroundinfrontof

himanddrivehimcrazy.Makehimwishhe’dnevertalkedtomethatway.Makehimbegmetotake
himback.

JesusChrist.WhyamIsodelusional?
Ilookdownatmydeskandfrownatthetwophoneslaidoutthere.I’vebeendraggingHeath’s

phonearoundwithmeallweek,unabletoerasethestuffIputinthere.Unabletoevenopenupthe
messagesandlookatallthestupid,stupidthingsIwrote.Unabletoletgoofthatdream.

MacthinksI’mcrazy.Youneedprofessionalhelp.Whatanasshole.Thatreallyhurt.Itwasa

harmlessfantasy.Andnoonewassupposedtoseethosemessages.Ifamessagesaysundelivered,
thenhowthehellwasIsupposedtofigurethatthey’dallsendinagiantbatchoncethephonewas
turnedbackon?

It’snotmyfaultMcAllisterStonewallstumbledintomyfantasyuninvited.
Asharpknockontheconnectingdoorstartlesmebacktoreality.
Istandupandsay,“Comein,”inacommandingvoice.Good.Iwanttohavemysayandthat

bastard…opensthedoorandwalksinlookinglikehejustfinishedafashionshootforamen’s
magazinecover.

“Jennifersaysyou’vebeen—”
“Justholdonthere,Mr.Not-So-Perfect,”Iyell,puttingupahandandwalkingaroundthedesk.

ThebabystepsIhavetotakeinthistightpencildresskindofmakemyflashofangerlesseffective,
butIswallowhardandliftmyhead,determinedtostandupformyself.“Yougottosayallthethings
tomeonMonday,andnowit’smyturntosay…”

Mywordstrailoffbecausehe’slookingmeupanddownlikehemighteatmealive.
Iwaitforhisgazetoreturntomyface.Hiscerulean-blueeyeshavemeintheirgripandI’m

suddenlychilled.Mynipplesperktoattentioninthewakeofhisstare.

Hedoesnotmissthis.
“Yourturntosaywhat,MissHatcher?”
Iclearmythroatandtakeadeepbreath.“It’snotfair.NothingyoudidorsaidtomeonMonday

wasfair!”

“Whyareyouyelling?”heaskscalmly.
“I’mnotyelling,”Ipracticallyyell.“ButI’mangry,soI’mgladyouthinkIam.Becauseyou

should.”

“Ishould?”heasks.
Jesus.Isoundlikeanidiot.“Youaccusedmeofbeingwhat?Unstable?JustbecauseIhavea

healthyfantasylife?Acreativeimagination?A—”

“Granddelusionaboutmybrother?”headdsin,hisvoicerisingnowaswell.
“I’mnotsickandIdon’tneedprofessionalhelp!You’retheonewho’ssick!Youhavenofantasy

lifebeyondfuckingyoursubordinateatwork!You’reboring.Tooboringforme,that’sforsure.You
can’tevenappreciateadream.Infact,Ifeelsorryforyou.Suckstobeyou.SogladI’mnotyou!”

“Well,”hesays,walkingovertowardsme.Istepback,unsurewhathe’sdoing.Buthepassesby

meandthenslipsbehindmydeskandtakesaseat.

Inmychair.
Myfuckingchair!
“ThenIapologizeabouttheinsult.Ishould’vebeenmoreprofessionalaboutit.”
“Whyareyousittinginmychair?”
“Whynot?Doesitbotheryou?”
“Well,yes.Yesitdoes.Thisismyoffice.”
“Ipurchasedthisentireofficeforyou.”

“Forme,right!”I’mstillyelling.IbetStephanieandthewholeseventhfloorcanhearusinhere.

Well,me,attheveryleast.Ellie’sintheremakinganotherscene,they’reprobablysaying.

“AndIwantedtotakeyououtlastweekendbutyousaidno.”
“Youweremovingwaytoofast.IsitmyfaultIwantedspaceandyoudidn’t?”
“Thenwhylie?”Heleansbackinmychair,oneelbowrestingonthearmrest,theotherhand

scratchinghisperfectlychiseledandslightlystubbledjaw.GoodGod,he’shandsome.

“Ididnotlie.”
“Youledmetobelievesomething.”
“So?”
“SoIdon’tlikeit.”Hedoesn’tyell,butit’sloudandit’scommanding.“AndIhaveverygood

reasonsfornotlikingit.Didyoureallythink,afterallthis”—hewavestotheofficeandthentothe
dress—“thatI’dbeadickaboutyouwantingtoslowdown?”

“Yeah,”Isay.“Idid.”
“That’sbecauseyoudon’tknowme.”
“That’sbecauseyounevertoldmeanythingaboutyou!”
“I’maprivateperson,MissHatcher.Idon’tdreamupfantasiesandthendoleouttidbitsofmy

personallifetoalmoststrangerswhohavenointerestlikeyoudo.”

“Ihateyou,”Isnap.“Thatwasalowblow.”
“Really?Soyoudidn’tspillyourfantasiestoHeath’sphone?Ijustimaginedthat?”
“Hewasneversupposedtoseethem!”
“Thenwhysendthem?”
“Itwaslike…”Fuck.“Itwasjustafunwayto…shit,Idon’tknow.ButIshouldn’thavetoexplain

it.Allthatstuffwasmyprivatethoughtsandyoureadthem!It’slike…it’slikereadingaperson’s
diary!”

ChapterTwenty-Two-Mac

She’sright.Itakeadeepbreathandsayitoutloud.“You’reright.”
“I’m…right?”sheasks,unsureofherself.
“Yes,you’reright.AndI’msorry.ButIwaspissedoffwhenIfinallyfiguredoutthatyou’drather

stayhomeallweekendalonethanletmetakeyououtonanicedate.”

“Ijustneededthingstoslowdown,Mac.That’sall.”
“Thenwhylie?”
“Ididn’t…”Butshestops.Becauseshedid.“I’msorrythen.IwantedtogooutonthedatebutIfelt

bulldozed.Youknow?”

Ilookherupanddowninthatdressandshakemyhead.
“Youdon’t?Whynot?”
Butthat’snotwhatImeanandshefiguresthatoutprettyfast.Thatfingernailshelikestochew

comesuptoherperfectlipsandsheshiftsherfeet,whichmakesherhipswiggle.

“Comehere,”Isay,slidingherlaptoptothesideandscootingherchairbacktogiveherroom.

“Comehereandbendoverthedesk.”

“Mac,”shesayssharply.
“Wehadawholeweekofspace,Ellie,andI’vehadenoughofit.Comehere,rightnow,andbend

overthisfuckingdesk.”

Sheinchesforward,herkneespracticallygluedtogetherinthatdress,andstandsinfrontofme.
Itwirlmyfingerintheairandsay,“Turnaroundandbendover.”
Elliecloseshereyesandletsoutalongbreathofair.Shestaysstillfortwoseconds,thenturns

around,placesherpalmsflatonthedesk,andbendsforwardatthewaist,restinghercheekonthe
woodensurface.

Heassisfuckingspectacularandmyhandscan’tcontrolthemselves.Iplacebothpalmsoneach

ofhercheeksandrubheruntilsheletsoutasmallmoan.

“We’reathingnow,Ellie.OK?Canyoudeal?”
“OK,”shewhispers.
“We’retogether,we’regoingawaythisweekend,andfuckthatfive-datelimit.I’mgoingtohave

mywaywithyourighthere,rightnow.”ShesucksinasmallsipofairasIunzipherdressfromthe
bottomup,slowlyrevealingthebackofherknees,thenherthighs,thenherass.

She’swearingwhitemeshpantiesandherpinkpussyispeekingrightthroughthem.
ThisisexactlywhatIpicturedwhenIboughtthisdresslastweek.MyfantasyofEloiseHatcher

mightnotbeuptoherlevelofdreaming,butthisisit.Exactly.

Imoveherpantiesasideandslipmyfingeruptoherfolds,tracingmywayaroundherentranceas

mydickgrowsandmyheartraces.“Tellme,”Isay.“Iliketohearit.”

I’dliketowatchhersayittoo,butherhairiscoveringherface.That’ssomethinggoingonmy

fantasylist.IwanttowatchhermouthtalkdirtytomeasIfingerthefuckoutofherpussy.

“Putyourfingerinsideme,”shewhispers.“Far,”sheadds.
It’senough.Fornow.ItwistmyhandalittlesoIcanplaywithherg-spotasIeasein.Shebuckles

herbackandIgetatinyglimpseofherpinkmouthasshemoans,“Oh!”

“Nowwhat?”Iask.Iwanttokeephertalking.Idon’twanthertostop.
“Standup,”shesays.
Ismile,butpushthechairbackandstand.
“Pushyourhipsuptomyass.”
Oh,yeah.Thisisnice.IsmilewideasIforcemyhipsintoherass,grindingmydickagainsther

curves.Myfingerslipsoutofherpussyandshesays,“No,”butIreacharoundherfrontandslipit
backintoquietherprotest.

“Youlikethis,Ellie?YoulikeitwhenIstickmyfingersinyourpussy?”
“Mmmm-hmmm,”shesays.“Imissedyouthisweek.”
Awww.Fuck.Ileandownonherbackandeasemykneebetweenherlegs.“Ellie,”Ibreatheinto

herneck,tryingmybestnottobiteherear.“Iwasmiserableallweek.Icametoworktodayhoping
wecouldtryagain.AndI’msorryIwasadick.”

“Fuckme,”shesays.“Fuckmeandmakeitallbetter.”
“Yes,ma’am.”Ichuckle.
Istandbackupandreachintomypocketforthelittlefoilcondompacket.Shelooksoverher

shoulderatmewhenIripitopenandIsay,“Notmybrother ’sthistime.”

Shegrinsandthencloseshereyes.“Youcameprepared?”
“Icamehoping,Ellie.That’sall.”Islipthecondomonandgrabherbythehips,theneaseback

andhookmyfingersaroundherpanties,draggingthemdownherthighsuntiltheycometoarest
aroundherknees.“Openyourlegs,”Isay,placingahandonherbackandpushingherintothedesk.

Sheobeys,herlegsopeninguntilherpantiesarestretchedtotheirmaximumandshecan’tgoany

further.

Ilookdownandtakeamentalpicture.I’mgoingtojerkofflaterthinkingabouthowshelooks.
MyfreehandmakesafistaroundmycockandIpressitagainstherpussy,flickingitbackand

forthtoteasethewetnessoutandmakemeslick.AndthenIpushintoher.Hard.Shegasps,herhead
comingupoffthedesk,butIgrabherhairandforceherdownagain.

Ileanintoherback,bitehershoulder,thenwhisperinherear.“I’mgoingtofucktheshitoutof

you,Eloise.”

“Please,”shewhimpers.“Doit.Hard.Iwantithardthistime.Makemefeelit.Makemeremember

it.”

Istandupstraight,thenthrustinsideher,thefulllengthofmycockdisappearingasIlookdown

andwatch.Herlipspart,andtheslickwetnesspoolsagainstthesideofmyshaft.

“Harder,”shebegs.“Harder.”
Herwishisgranted.Ithrustagain,thenagain.Andeachtime,sheletsoutamoan.Andeachmoan

getslouderandmoreuninhibited.Iknowtheycanhearusoutsidethisoffice,butIdon’tcare.

Ipushherdressoutofthewayandgrabherhips,forcingherbackagainstme,forcingmydick

deeperanddeeperinsideher,untiltheimpactofourskin-on-skincontactmakesaslappingsoundthat
echoesoffthewallsofheroffice.

Wecometogether.Andit’ssweet,andthrilling,anderoticasfuck.Shedoesn’tscream—not

exactly.Butit’sclose.

AndIsmile.
Shemightbeleavingnextweek,butshe’snotgettingaway.
Icollapseontopofherbackandkissherneck.“You’releavingearlytoday,MissHatcher.I

requireyourattendancedownonthetarmacintwentyminutes.”Istepbackandripthecondomoffas
Iwalkintomyoffice.“Don’tkeepmewaiting.”

ChapterTwenty-Three-Ellie

Don’tkeepmewaiting.
Isthathot?Ornot?
Ican’ttell.
McAllisterStonewallcertainlyhasanairofsuperiorityabouthim.I’msureitcomeswiththe

territory.Billionaire’sson,trustfund,accountabletonoone.

Buthedidapologizeandhedidadmithewaswrong.Thatcountsforsomething.I’mnotsurewhat

yet.Butsomething.

AllweekI’vebeenthinkingabouthim.Butwhy?It’snotthemoney.I’mnotrichbyanymeans,but

I’mnotpooreither.I’masaver.IliveinaTechCenterapartmenttosavegasonalongcommuteand
becauseit’skindofadeadarea.Aplacetowork,nottolive.Sotheapartmentsarenew,nice,and
affordable.

AndIreallydobelieveinmybook.Ibelieveinmynewcareer.Iknowthatmylifeforward

involvesintimateone-on-onemeetingswithpeoplewhoneedguidance.Mydegreemightbein
communications,butIminoredinpsychology,andI’vehadenoughpeopletellmemywordsmakea
differencetothemtobelieveinmyself.Ithinkleavingisagoodidea.IthinkI’llbesuccessful.

No.Mac’smoneyisnotthesourceofthenaggingdesirethat’sbeenfloatingaroundinsidemeall

week.

It’scertainlygotsomethingtodowithhisgoodlooks.He’stallerthanHeath.Notbymuch,butit’s

noticeable.Andwhilehisblondhairistechnicallyshort,it’slonginalltherightplaces.Enoughto
giveitthatmessylookthatdriveswomenwild.Thejust-rolled-out-of-bedlook.Thejust-ran-my-
fingers-through-itlook.Thejust-lie-back-and-enjoy-itlook.

Butno.It’snotthewayhelooks.That’snotwhat’sgotmyattention.
Idolikehisbossiness.Whichwalksthatfinelinejustbetweenrudeandfuck-hot.It’sdefinitelya

contributor.

Iguessit’sallofthatputtogetherthatmakeshimseemso…perfect.Maybetooperfect?
Thethingthatreallynagsatmethough—thethingthathasbeennaggingatmesincethedayIfirst

lookedathimalittlecloser—isthismissingpastbusiness.There’ssomethingwrongwiththat.Like
hewaserased.Howpowerfuldoesonehavetobetoerasethemselvesfromtheinternet?

Itcan’tbedoneevenifitappearsithasbeendone.
Thepower,Irealize.Ilikehispower.Ilikethewayhetalkstome.ThewayheassumesIwilljust

obeyhiscommands.ThewayheholdsmestillwhenIfeellikethingsarespinningoutofcontrol.The
wayhepullsmeclose.

Maybethisisjustsomestupidend-of-jobfling.Itprobablyis.Butit’sfun.Likehesaid.It’sfun.
Ihavetocontortmyselftogetmydressstraightenedout.Thezipperisalmostimpossibletoreach

andwhileIdon’tneedtopullitallthewaydowntomykneesagain—missionaccomplishedthere—I
doneedittocovermyroundass.

Ichucklealittleatthethought.HowImusthavelookedtoMacasIwasbentoverthedesk,the

dressunzippedtomywaist,mywhitepantiesnotenoughtopreventhimfromgettingagoodlookat
thedesirespillingoutfrombetweenmylegs.

Yes.It’sthepower.
He’sself-assured.He’sconfident.He’scommanding.
Ilikeallofthat.
IshufflethroughmylargepinkclutchuntilIcomeupwithacompactandopenit.
Jesus.Ilookedwell-fucked.
Mycheeksarerosy,myeyemakeupisslightlysmudged,myhairismessy,andmylipstickis

gone.

IsuddenlyhavethedesiretowalkoutofthisofficejustthewayIam.Leteveryoneseehowthis

manaffectsme.Letthemallknowwhat’sbeengoingon.

“No,Ellie,”Isaywithasmile.“Thatwillnotdo.”
SoItakeafewmomentstoputmyselfbacktogether,smoothmydressdownwiththepalmsofmy

hands,grabmyclutch,andopenmyofficedoor.

AroundofapplauseechoesthroughouttheseventhfloorandIfeelmywholebodygohot.
“Oh,shutup!”Isay.ButI’msmilingwithsatisfactionasIwalkovertotheelevatorandpressthe

callbutton.IguessIgotmywishafterall.

MaciswaitingformeatthebottomoftheairstairswhenImakeitovertothetarmac.“Itexted

you,didn’tyougetit?”

“Iwasinthetraintunnel,”Isay.“Sorry.DidItaketoolong?”
“Twenty-sevenminutes,MissHatcher.Youmadeitjustintime.”
“Justintime?”Iask,havingahardtimekeepingmygrinhiddenfromhimasweturntowardsthe

jetandwalkupthestairs.

“Justintimetoavoidthepunishmentifyouwerelate.”
“Somethingtellsmethatmight’vebeenfun.”
“Testmenexttime,andfindout.ThereasonItextedwasbecausewehaveachangeofplans.My…

fathercalledandsaysBrutusisexpectingusathishousethisafternoon.”

“Brutus?Why?”Thiscan’tbegood.
“Seniorwantsthatinterviewandhesayswefuckeditup,sowehavetofixit.Sowe’reonourway

toSantaFetotalkBrutusintoit.”

“Oh,fortheloveofGod.Thiswillnotbefun.”
“Well,sometimesweallhavetodothingsthataren’tfun.Brutusspecificallyaskedforyou,soif

hereamsyouanewonefortryingtokillhimlastweek,youneedtobegood.”

“Begood?”Isneer.“YouasklikeI’msomekindofridiculousperson!”
“Ellie,”Macsayswitheyebrowsupandacrookedsmile.“Please.YouandIbothknowthelevelof

crazyyou’recapableof.Sojustbegood.”Macrepeatsthisinhisbossyauthoritativetone.

Whichonlygetsmyhacklesupmore.He’sknownmeaweekandhethinksheunderstandsmy

levelofcrazy.“Numberone,Mac,I’mnotridiculous.Ithinkwejustagreedthatyouhadnobusiness
insertingyourselfintomyfantasylife.Whichiscompletely,onehundredpercenthealthy.Itwas
harmlessfunbeforeyoucamealongandtoremyworldapart.”

“Toreyourworld—?Ellie,comeon.Icametowork,yousentmemessages.Ididn’tdoanything

otherthanreact.Butanyway,wecantalkallthatoutlater—”

“Talkallwhatoutlater?”I’mgenuinelyconfused.Wejusthadmakeupsex,right?What’stotalk

about?

“BecauseStonewallSeniorhasheardrumorsaboutus.”
“No!”Aw,shit.

“Yes.Hesaidhe’sgoingtocomeintotowntotalk,soweneedtobeonourbestbehaviortoday

andgetthisguytoagreetorescheduletheinterview.”

Howcouldthingsgosowrongintwenty-sevenminutes?

ChapterTwenty-Four-Ellie

Macisonthephonetheentiretwo-hourridedowntoSantaFewhileIsitintheseatacrossfrom

himboredoutofmymind.Typically,whenIflyItakesomethingwithme.Ane-readerandthose
noise-cancellingheadphones.

ButIhavemypurseandnothingelse,soIkeepmyselfbusyeatingLifeSaversandthumbing

throughanoutdatedPeoplemagazinethattheflightattendanthandstomeoutofpity.Probably
becauseMacissobusy.Anditisn’teveninterestingbusy,either.It’saveryboringone-sided
conversationthatIcan’tmakeheadsortailsof.It’slikehe’stalkingincode,purposefullymaking
sureIcan’tgleananyinformationaboutthetopicunderdiscussion.

Idon’tunderstandwhytheyhavetosellStonewallEntertainment.It’ssosuccessful.Imean,Iguess

Idon’tknowalltheinsidenumbers,buttheycertainlydon’tspareanyexpensecourtingbignamesfor
interviewsandappearancesontheshowstheycareaboutmost.

Macisstillonthephonewhenweland,andonlypauseslongenoughtopointmetothedoor.We

exitatasmallairportwithnojetway,justairstairs.Sowewalkacrossthetarmac,entertheterminal,
andmakeourwayouttowardsbaggageclaimwhereamaninadarksuitiswaitingwithasignthat
says‘Stonewall.’

MacfinallyhangsupandstartschattingtothedriverasIfollowalonglikeanafterthought.Why

amIevenhere?SurelyBrutuscan’twanttoseemeafterIcausedhimalife-threateningemergency
lastweek.

“OK,”Macsays,afterweslideintothetowncar.“Here’stheplan.Idon’twantyouinteracting

withhimsowe’regoingtogointhere,youapologizeprofusely,andthenI’lltakeoverandseeifwe
can’tworkoutsomethingfornextmonth.”

Ihavenothingbutasighforthat.
“Ellie?Areyoupayingattentiontome?”
“OfcourseI’mpayingattention.It’snotlikeI’vebeentheoneonthephoneforthepasttwohours

ignoringyou.”

“Sorry,”hesayswithasmallsmile.“Ihadtodealwithsomestuffwiththesale.Wehavetoplanit

rightsoinvestorsdon’tcutandrunatthefirstsignofmovement.”

“Whydoyouhavetosellanyway?”Isay.“Idon’tgetit.”
“It’scomplicated.”
“Tryme,”Isneer.“Andstoptreatingmelikethis.”
“Likewhat?”
“LikeI’mincapableofunderstandingdetails.Ilivedetails,Mac.I’vebeenrunningthesecelebrity

guestsforsevenyearsandthisisthefirsttimeI’vemessedupsincemyfirstweekonthejob.”

“Iknow,Ellie.It’sjustthisisabiginterview.IfwecangetBrutustoshowupafterthefirstsale

thenitwillletinvestorsknowwe’restillinbusiness.”

“Butifyou’renot‘stillinbusiness’”—Idolittleairquotesaroundthat—“thenwhyareyou

lying?”

“We’renotlying,justholdingourcardsclose.”
Igiveupandturntolookoutthewindow.“Howfaristhisplace?”

“Notfar.He’sgotsomekindofcompoundinsidethecity,Iguess.Solisten,”hesays,turninghis

bodytome.“We’llgetbackintimefordinnertonight.Wherewouldyouliketogo?”

“Dinner?”Iask,notlookingathim.“I’mnotsureIfeellikedinner.Ihateflying.Itwearsmeout.

I’llprobablyjustgohomeandsleep.”

“No,Ellie.Youwon’t.We’regoingout.”
We’llseeaboutthat,Ithinktomyself.WhydidIspendtheentireweekpiningoverhimandnow

everythinghesaysanddoesannoysme?

“Ellie?”Macaskssharply.
“What?”Isnapback.
“Whyareyoutuningmeout?”
“IguessI’mjustnotcapableofunderstandingthedetails,”Isaywithanuninterestedsigh.
“Listen,”hesays,takingmyarmandturningmetowardshim.“SorryIwasbusy,butbelieveme,

you’renotinterestedinthebusinessIwasdealingwith.Trustme.”

“Sure,”Isay.“Whatever.”
“Whyareyousoirritatedwithme?”
“OK,”Isay.“I’lltellyou.It’sbecauseyoudragmealongontothisstupidmeetingandthen

practicallytellmetowaitinthecarwhileyoudoyourbusiness.It’sdemeaning.”

“Don’ttakeitsopersonally,Eloise.It’sjustwork.AndIrealizethatI’mnotthebestexamplefor

separatingworkfrompersonallife,butlet’sgiveitatrytoday.”

I’veheardenough.“Fine.”
“Good.”Wepulluptosomemassiveadobewallwithanequallyintimidatingirongateatthe

front,andthedriverrollshiswindowdownandtellsthemwhoweare.Theguardlooksin,then
wavesfortheotherguardtoopenthegateforus.“Now,let’sjuststicktotheplan.Don’tengagehim
toomuch,OK?Justapologize,thenI’llaskyoutogogetmeadrinkorsomething—”

“You’llwhat?”
“Ellie,areyoulisteningtome?”
“Oh,I’mhearingyouperfectly.Gogetyouadrink,”Ihuff.“I’mnotyourpersonalassistant,Mac.

Infact,thisisactuallymyjob,notyours.Heaskedforme,right?”

“Yeah,butit’sthereasonheaskedthat’sgotmemad.”
Oh,hedidnotjustgothere.“Whydoyouthinkheaskedforme?”Isnarl.“BecauseI’mcuteand

young?”

“Exactly,”Macsays.
“Oh!”
ButthenthecarcomestoastopinfrontofthehouseandMacputsupahandtosilenceme.“Just

doitthewayIplannedandwe’lltalkaboutitlater.”

ThedriverisopeningMac’sdoorbeforeIcanrespond,soItakeadeepbreath,letmyangergo,

andthengetout,moredeterminedthaneverthatIwillabsolutelynotdoithisway.Brutusismy
client.Ifhewantsmetoapologizefornearlykillinghimlastweek,I’mhappytodothat.ButI’malso
happytotakecareofallthedetails.Thisismyclient,notMac’s.

MacoffersmehishandasIscootoverandgetoutonhisside.Iacceptandlethimgetmetomy

feet,thenIsmoothdownmydressandnoticeMacgivingmethestinkeye.“Nowwhat?Youhavea
problemwiththedressyouboughtme?”

“Itisalittlelowcut,”hesays,rubbinghischin.“Maybeyoucanjustwaitinthecar.”
“Ican’tevenwithyourightnow,”Isay,pushinghimoutoftheway.
“Ellie,”hesays,catchingupwithme.“Justlisten,Ididn’tsayanythingbefore,but—”
“MissHatcher,”aboomingvoicesaysfromthetopofthestairsasweentertheimposingtwo-

storyfoyerofthecompoundhouse.“My,my,”Brutussays.“Youlooklovely.I’msohappyyoucould

makeittoday.Mr.Stonewallinsistedthatyouweretoobusyforme—”

IgiveMacanotherlook.Andifmyeyescouldshootarrows,hiseyeswouldhavetwoofthem

stickingoutoftheirorbits.“Didhe?Well,hewasmistaken,Mr.Brutus.Iwashappytocancelmyday
tocomehereandapologizeprofuselyforwhathappenedlastweek.I’msosorry.Iknewbetter,butI
hadforgottentoleavemysandwichinthefridgeinmyoffice.Ihopeyou’llacceptmyapology.”

Brutusmakeshiswaydownanelaboratestairway,practicallycaressingthewrought-ironrailing,

ashebeamsmeawelcomingsmile.Helookslikearockstar.Typicalinalmosteveryway.Long
brownhairthathehastuckedbehindhisears.Rippedjeansandatightt-shirtthathugshischest.He’s
skinnythough,soitdoesn’tshowmuch.NothinglikeMac’smusclesthatpushagainstthepaleblue
fabricofhisdressshirtunderhissuitcoat.

StopthinkingaboutMac,Ichastisemyself.IneedtobeprofessionalbecauseapparentlyMacsees

measthisridiculousgirlwhocan’thandleherowninbusinessnegotiations.Ineedtoprovehim
wrong.

IextendmyhandtoBrutus,butinsteadofshakingit,hegraspsitlightlyinhisashebringsitup

andtoucheshislipsgentlyacrossmyknuckles.

“Well.”Ismile,lookingoveratMacwithasmirk.“Thatwasunexpected.Iwasunderthe

impressionthatyoudidn’twantmeatthismeeting.”

“Whotoldyouthat?”Brutusasks,notevenbotheringtolookatMac,whoissighingbehindme.I

canimaginehimrollinghiseyes.“Quitetheopposite,infact,MissHatcher.Iwantedyouhere.Asked
foryouspecifically.AndcanIjustsay,thatdress—”Hiseyespracticallyeatmeup.“Whoeverthat
designeris,shemadeitwithyouinmind,I’msure.”

“Oh,thanks!”Isay.“Mr.Stonewallsaiditmightbeatadinappropriate,butI—”
“What?”Brutusexclaimswithahandonhisheartinmocksurprise.“Mr.Stonewallshouldkeep

hisopinionstohimselforhemightfindIhaveafewofmyownthatyoumightbeinterestedin.”

Wait.“What?”Iask,confused.
“Hedidn’ttellyouaboutus?”BrutuslooksovermyshoulderatMac.IturnandlooktooandMac

hasaverystrangelookonhisface.Notshame.Notsurprise.Notevendiscomfort,likeheshouldbe,
sinceit’sclearthesetwoknoweachotherandMacneversaidanything.“Well,Mr.StonewallandIgo
wayback.Wayback.”

“Isthatso?”Iask,lookingbetweenthetwoofthemastheyhavesomekindofsilentstandoff.

“Well,colormesurprised.Henevermentionedit.”

“No,”Brutussays,takingmebythearmandleadingmefartherintothehouse.“Ididn’timagine

hewould.It’sancienthistory,Iguess.Alifetimeago.”

IletBrutusleadme,butIshootalookovermyshouldertoMacandhe’sfumingmad.Isquintmy

eyebrowsathimandmouth,What?

Macjustshakeshisheadasheclencheshisjawinanger.Iturnbacktobusiness.Whateverhis

problemis,it’sobviouslynotaboutthebusinesspartofthistrip.

“Wouldyoulikesomethingtodrink,MissHatcher?”Brutusasks,leadingmeintoaroomthat

overlooksthecity.It’ssetuphighonahillsothehighadobewallisn’tintheway.

“Sure,”Isay,takingaseatonthelongblackleathercouch.Hisdécorisn’tmytaste.It’scertainly

screamsrock-star,sincethewallsareredandallthefurnitureisblack.ButI’mnotheretoenjoyhis
home,I’mjustheretosecuretheinterview.

“Mr.Stonewall,”Brutussays,justasMacisabouttotakeaseatnexttome.“Doyoumindgiving

ussomeprivacy?”

“Look,Allen,”Macsays.
“Allen?”Iask.
“Yeah,Allen,”Macstresses.“That’shisrealname.Andyes,wecertainlydogowayback.So

whenmyfatheraskedme—”

“Oh,that’srich,Mac.Rich.”Brutus—Allen—laughs.“Ican’tbelieveyou’vefooledeveryone—”
“I’vefooledeveryone?”Macsays,hisvoicerising.“Please.Look,we’reheretodobusiness.So,

no,MissHatcherwouldnotlikeadrink.She’dliketoapologize—”

“Shealreadyapologized,Mac.Justrelax.Whyareyousouptight?”
“Doyouwanttoreschedulethisinterviewornot?”Macsnarls.
“Whatthehellisgoingon?”IaskMac.“Wouldyoujustgogetthedrinksandletmehandlethis,

please?Jesus,whatiswrongwithyou?Youdraggedmeallthewayouthereandnowyou’re
sabotagingmyefforts!”

“Ellie—”
“Mac!Seriously,whatisyourproblem?”
“Yes,”Brutus/Allensays.“Tellherwhattheproblemis.Let’stalkaboutthepast,shallwe?”
Whythehellaremensostupid?Clearlythisisaboutmeandwhydoeitherofthemthinkthatthis

isanythingotherthansomecavemanpowerplay?“We’renotheretotalkaboutthepast,OK?You
guys?”

IwaitforthemtofinishtheirstaringcontestandthenMacsays,“Fifteenminutes.”Hesaysthatto

me,buthe’slookingatBrutus.“Fifteenminutesandwe’reoutofhere.Ifyoudon’twanttheinterview
—”

“Oh,Iwantit,”Brutussays.“Itoldyourfatherthatmuchonthephone.ButI’dliketodiscussthe

detailswithyourcelebrityconcierge.”

Macshakeshishead,readytoprotest,butthenhisdamnphonebuzzesagainandhelooksdownat

themessageandfrowns.“It’sanemergency,Ellie.I’llberightback.”Macwalksoutoftheroom.A
butlerorhouseattendantgoesafterhimandIhavetogivemyselfamentalshaketogetbackontrack.

He’shadalotofemergencycallstoday.
“Now,”Brutussays,closingthedoorandwalkingbackovertome.Hetakesaseatonthecouch,

hiskneespracticallytouchingmine.

Aw,fuck.Isthiswhathewasafter?He’smakingamoveonme?Why?DearGod,why?I’mjustan

ordinarygirltryingtomakeitthroughafewmoredaysofthisjob.WhydopeopleIdon’tevenknow
havetocomplicatethingsforme?

Igathermyself,thenscootoverandturnmybodytoputalittlemorespacebetweenBrutusand

me.“Brutus,”Isay.“AsIwassaying.I’msoverysorryforwhathappenedlastweek.Idealwithalot
ofpeoplewhohavepeanutallergies,soIknewbetter.Iwasjustoffmygamethatday.Thingswere
outofsorts.ButStonewallEntertainmentwouldreallylovetohaveyoubackatyourearliest
convenience.Sodoyouthinknextmonthwillworkforyourschedule?”Noneedtodragthisoutany
longerthannecessary.Let’sjustcuttothechase.

“Relax,Ellie.”
Iraisemyeyebrowsathim.I’mnotstuffy.Idon’tmindpeoplecallingmeEllie.Buthewascalling

meMissHatcherafewsecondsagoandnowit’sEllie?

Brutustakestheopportunitymysilenceaffordedhimandslipsahandovermyknee.“I’vehearda

lotaboutyou,”hesays.

“What?Whatdoyoumean?”
“Afriendofminegotwindofacertainbookyou’vebeenshopping,”Brutussays,noddinghis

headtowardsthecloseddoor.“Areyoulookingtobepublished,Ellie?”

“Howcouldsomeoneyouknowpossiblyhaveheardaboutthat?”
“Ihavemyways.”
“Well,it’snotrelevant.I’mnotheretodiscussmypersonallifewithyou,Brutus.AndI’m

certainlynotgoingtoconsidersomekindofsordidaffairinexchangeforapublishingcontract.”

“Whynot?”Brutusasks,raisinghiseyebrows.“Everyonedoesit.Favors,MissEllieHatcher,

givenandowedtotherightpeople.That’stheonlywaytogetahead.AndIknowyouwantafavor
frommetoday.Whynotstartourrelationshipoffright?Oneforyou,oneforme.Ihavecontacts
withyourliteraryagent.Sheowesmemanyfavors.Icouldjustcallherupandtellhertogetthat
bookofyourspublishedASAPandshe’dmakeithappen.OrIcouldcallherupandsaytherewill
neverbetimeforthatbookonanyone’sschedule.Whichwouldyouprefer?”

“Favors?"JesusChrist.Ireallydon’tbelonginthisexecutiveworld.“I’mafraidyou’veinsulted

myethics,Mr.Brutus.AndIrealizethatIwassentheretonailthisinterviewdown,but—”

“Yourethics.”Helaughs.“Honey,ifyouwanttosucceedinthisbusiness,youplaythegame.And

rightnowyouoweme.Youalmostkilledme,MissHatcher—”

“ButIdidn’tkillyou.AndIdidn’tdoanyofthatonpurpose.Ijustforgotaboutmysandwich,

that’sall.I’msorry.There’snothingmoreIcansayaboutit.I’mjustsorry.”

“I’mnotsorry.Itgivesmepower,MissHatcher.You’reabouttopublishaveryhigh-profilebook.

Well”—hesneaksmeasidewaysglancethatlooksslightlyevil—“ifyoucanmanagetogeta
publisher.I’dliketobeinthatbook,MissHatcher.Beoneofyourcase-studystars.Perhapswecould
tourtogether.”

“Tourtogether?”Iscrunchupmyeyes.“Whatthehellareyoutalkingabout?”
“Bemypersonaladvisor,MissHatcher.Icouldpropelyoutosuccess.Getyourbookpublished,

butthenyou’dowemeagain.Twofavors.”

“Um,”IhavenoideawhatisgoingonbutIsuddenlyknowhowMacmust’vefeltwhenhe

stumbledintomydelusions.Brutusiscreepingmethefuckout.“Idon’tneedhelp,Mr.Brutus,but
thankyoufortheoffer.Now,wouldyouliketorescheduletheinterviewfornextmonth?Oristherea
bettertimeforyou?”

“Notothebookdeal?”Brutussays,oneeyebrowcocked.“Well,I’msurprised.Whatelsecanyou

tradefortheinterview?Anofficefuck?I’veheardyouliketomixbusinesswithpleasure.You,”he
says,onefingerreachinguptotapmeonthenose,“arethetalkofStonewallEntertainmentthese
days,MissHatcher.I’veheardallaboutyourtrystwithMr.perfectintheotherroom.Ihaveinsiders.
Soperhapsyou’dliketoscrewyourwaytothetopwithmeaswell?”

Islaphimintheface.ThenIstareatmyhand,thentheshockonBrutus’face,anddoitagain.

“Howdareyou!”

“HowdareI?”Helaughs.“You’retheonesluttingaroundintheoffice.Notme.Ikeepitallvery

discreet,Ellie.I’mnotanythinglikeMac.Noonewilleverknow.”

Istandup.“I’mleaving.”
“You’regoingtowalkout?EvenifIagreetoaone-on-oneinterviewwithyou?”
“Me?JesusChrist,whatplanetareyoulivingon?I’mnotareporter!I’mascheduler.”
“Sopencilmein,Ellie.PencilintimetosuckmycockrightnowandI’lldotheinterviewyou

weresentheretoget,”hesays,standingupandplacinghishandonmybreast.“AndjustFYI,Ilike
theslapping.”Hegripsmybreast,squeezingit.Itwistaway,butBrutuscatchesmyarm,tuggingme
sohard,squeezingmesotightly,Icanfeelthebruiseforming.

“Stopit!”Isay,wriggling.Hegrabsmearoundthewaist,pullingmybackintohischest,his

disgustingbreathheatinguptheskinonmyneck.Ihavetoswallowdownthebilethatwantstocome
up.“Letmego!”

“Youcanslapmearoundallyouwant,”Brutussays.“IknewthatlittleMissInnocentactwasjust

that.Anact.It’salwaysthesweetoneswhowanttobefuckedhard.”

“That’senough.”Macisstandingintheopendoor,eyesblazing,voicelowashegrowlsitout

again.“That.Is.Enough.”

ChapterTwenty-Five-Mac

“Ellie,”Isay.“Gowaitinthecar.”
Forthefirsttimesincewestartedthistriptoday,shedoesn’targuewithme.Justsquirmsand

wrigglesuntilBrutusletshergoandthenhalfwalks,halfrunstowardsthedoor.

“He’slyingtoyou,Ellie.Youhavenoideawhothismanis,”Brutussays.
Ellieignoreshim,clutchingthelow-cutfrontofherdresstogetherasshewalkspastme,eyes

downcast,shouldersslumpedlikeshefeelsresponsibleforwhatjusthappened.

IclosethedoorbehindherandthentakemyattentiontoBrutus.“Wasthatfun?Doespawing

reluctantwomenmakeyoufeelpowerful,Allen?Isthatit?Yourdickissmall,yourmouthisbig,and
theonlywayforyoutofeelincontrolistotakesomethingbyforce?”

Brutussmilesinawaythatistoofamiliartome.“Youhaven’tchanged,”hesays.
“Neitherhaveyou.Stillthesamelow-lifeassholeIknewincollege.Stillsick,stillmean,andstill

pathetic.”

“Youknow,Ibettherearealotofpeoplewho’dbeinterestedinyourpast.Thosenewsprograms

youhead?ShouldIstartthere?”

“Youknowtherisks.Takethemifyouwant,butmylawyerswillhaveyouinjailbeforedawnif

youbreatheawordtoanyone.”

“StonewallSeniorisn’tgoingtolikehowthisturnedout.Hewasveryinterestedingettingme

backontheshow.”

“That’sbecausehehadnoideawhoyouwere.”
“Wehavethatincommon,then,”Brutussayswithasneer.“You’renodifferentthanme,Mac.

Don’tpretendyouare.Anditdoesn’thavetobemewhooutsyoutothatfinepieceofasswaitingin
yourcar.I’mnottheonlyonewhoknowsthetruth.”

“Goaheadandtryit,”Isay,takingastepclosertohim.Hebacksawayoutofinstinct,thencatches

himselfandstandshisground.“I’mupforthechallenge.”

“You’reguilty,”hesays.“Youwerealwaysguilty.Moreguiltythananyoneforwhathappenedto

thatgirl.Guiltierthanme,that’sforsure.”

“Acourtoflawdisagreed.”Ismileandshrugmyshoulders.“Sono,actually,I’mnot.Andjust

becauseIdidn’tdoanythingbackthendoesn’tmeanIwon’tdoanythingnow.”

“Areyouthreateningme,McAllister?”Hestepsforward,hisdarkeyesflashinginanger.

“BecauseIcanplaythatgametoo.”

“Let’sgo,”Isay.“I’mreadywhenyouare.Butjustrememberthis,Brutus.”Isayhisnewname

withdisgust.Itmakesmesickthathe’ssomefamousreclusiverockstar.Alltheseyears,awhole
decadebetweenthenandnow,andlookathim.“Ihavepowerinhighplaces.Staythefuckawayfrom
EllieHatcherandstaythefuckawayfromStonewallEntertainment.Orthewholetruthaboutwhat
happenedbackincollegewillcometumblingoutfasterthanyoucanblink.”

“Ha.”Helaughs.“Don’ttalktomeabouttruth,Mr.Perfect.You’rethelastmanonEarthtolecture

anyoneontruth.”

Iwanttopunchhiminthefacesobadly,I’mshaking.“Stayawayfrommycompany,my

employees,andme.Becauseifyoueventhinkabouttalking,I’llmakesureeveryoneknowsyourpart

init.”

Iwalkoutandhe’sscreamingbehindme.Threats,insults.Whatever.Hecangofuckhimself.
EllieisalreadyinthecarwhenIgetthere,stillholdingthefrontofherdresstogetherandstaring

downatherlap.“AreyouOK?”Iask,slidingintothecarnexttoher.“Airport,”Itellthedriver.“Get
usthefuckoutofhere.”

“Willyourfatherbemad?”
“Atwhat?”Iask.
“Notgettingtheinterview.”
“No,”Isay.“No,Ellie.Hedidn’tknow.”
“Hedidn’tknowwhat,Mac?Whatthehelljusthappenedinthere?”
Fuck.“It’sjust…”Fuck.“It’sjustthepast,that’sall.Nothingtoworryabout.”
“WhatdidBrutusmeanbyallthat?Thatstuffaboutmenotknowingwhoyouare?”
“Just…nevermind.Youdon’thavetoworryaboutit.Butnoneofthathadanythingtodowith

you,Ellie.ThatwasaboutmeandIshould’veknownbetter.Iknowwhatkindofassholeheis.He
hasn’tchangedabit.”

“Soyouknoweachother?”Shetakesadeepbreath,butshe’snotlookingmeintheeyes.
“Idid,”Isay.“Iknewhimonce,tenyearsago.Backincollege.ButIhaven’tseenhimsince.”
“Whatwereyoutalkingaboutonthephoneduringtheflight?”
“What?Why?”
“Becauseitsoundedimportantanditsoundedlikeyouweretryingreallyhardnottoletmeknow

whatwasgoingon.”Shefinallylooksmeintheeyes.“Somethinghappened,didn’tit?”

Shit.“Ellie,lookit’snotaboutthis.”
“Thenwhat?”She’sangry.AndIdon’tblameher.“What’shappeningtoday?Whywereyouonthe

phoneandwhatwasthatemergencycallabout?”

Ifrown.“Justdon’toverreact,OK?”
“Mac—”
“There’savideoofus.”IcringeasIpreparemyselftosaythenextfewwords.“Ofusfucking.”
“Fromwhere?”Hereyesaredartingaroundwildly.“Wheredidtheygetavideo?”
“Youroffice.”
“No.”Shelookslikeshemightcry.“No!Fuckthat!How?”
“Cameras.”
“Obviously,Mac,”shesnaps.“I’mnotanidiot.Tellmeeverythingyouknow.Rightnow.”
“Itwasallfromthismorning.Everythingwedidthismorning.Thefight,thesex,theyevenhave

youwalkingoutofyouroffice.Buthey,”Isay,tryingtolightenthemood.“Everyoneclappedfor
you.”

“Youthinkthat’sfunny?”
“No,”Isay.“Sorry.Thegoodnewsis,weknowwhodidit.JennifersawEllen—”
“EllenInteroffice-sexcapades?”Ellieexclaims.“Thatfuckingbitch!”
“Jennifersawhertakingavideoofyouleavingyouroffice.I’msosorry.Ellen’sbeenfired.She’s

alreadybeenescortedfromthebuildingandhercompanyphonehasbeenconfiscated.Wefoundthe
fileonthereandwe’redefinitelybringingchargesforfelonytrespass,invasionofprivacy,and
maybesomeothers.Shewon’tgetawaywithit.”

“Shealreadydid,”Elliesays.God,shelookssosadrightnow.Andit’sallmyfault.It’sone

hundredpercentmyfaultforlettingthishappenatwork.“Isthiswhyyourfatherwantstotalktous?”

“Yeah,”Isay,turningawaytolookoutthewindow.“Yeah.Sheemailedittoabunchofpeopleat

Stonewall.Includingmyfather.”

“JesusChrist.Thisisgreat.Justfuckinggreat.Soyourfathersawasextapeofus?Icannot

believethis.”

“I’lltakecareofit,Ellie.OK?Iwill.I’msosorrythisishappening.Idon’tevenknowwhattosay.

I’mjustsofuckingsorry.”

We’requiettherestofthedrivetotheairport.Somethingaboutthisiswrong.Somethingabout

thisisallvery,verywrong.

Wehaveprivateterminalaccess,sothecartakesusrightouttothedropoffandweexitthecarand

makeourwayacrossthetarmactowardsthewaitingplane.Thepilotisrunningoutfromtheterminal
behindusandheapologizesasheboardsandtakeshisseat.Wasn’texpectingusbacksosoon,Ibet.

WesettleintoourseatsandIwaituntiltheattendantasksforandservesusdrinksbeforetryingto

engageEllieagain.

“I’msorry,”Isayagain.WhatthehellamIsupposedtosay?
“It’snotyourfault,”Elliesaysasshelooksoutthewindow.“I’mjustasmuchatfaultasyouare.”
“Still,”Isay.“Iknowbetter.You’rejust…justsodamncute,EloiseHatcher.”
Ifinallygetasmileassheglancesoveratme.“I’mleavingthecompanyanyway.It’snotlikeI

needtoseethesepeopleeverydayoranything.I’mprettymuchoutofthere.Butit’snotgoodtostart
mynew,verypublic,careerwiththis,isit?”

Shit.“No,”Isay.“I’msorry.”
Shesearchesthroughherpurseforafewseconds,andthensays,“Oh,no!”
“What?”
“IthinkIleftmyphoneinmyoffice.ThisisHeath’sphone.Imust’vepickedupthewrongone.

Youdon’tthinkshegottoit,doyou?”

“Aw,fuck.Canthisdaygetanyworse?”IgetmyphoneoutandtextJennifertogolookinEllie’s

officeforherphone.EllieandIwaitanxiouslyforthereturntextandwhenitbuzzesin,Iletouta
breathofrelief.“No,it’sthere.Rightonyourdesk.”

“HowdidInotseeit?”Ellieasks.
“Youweredistracted?”Ismileandshrug.
Sheletsoutalaughandthenseemstorelaxalittle.“It’snotyourfault,Mac.Soreally,don’tfeel

bad.I’mnotblamingyouforwhathappened.”

“Well,I’mnotsureSeniorwillseeitthesameway.Butthanks.AndI’mstillsorry.”
“Washemad?Heshouldbe.I’dbemadifmyemployeespulledthiskindofstunt.”
“Probably,butlikeyousaid,you’releaving.There’snotmuchhecandotoyou.”
“Hecouldgivemeabadreference.”
“He’dneverdothat,Ellie.Sevenyearsofexceptionalworkisnotwipedawaybyanoffice

romance.It’snotyourfaultEllenAbrahamisacunt.”

ShelaughsatthatandIstarttorelaxtoo.
“Idon’tgetBrutus.DoIdosomethingtoleadhimon?Whywasheactingthatwaywithme?”
Andgetstressedagain.Thatfucker.Whatthehellisheupto?
“Imean,”Elliecontinues,“whycallusallthewayouthere?DidhereallythinkI’dtrademybody

foraninterview?”

“Probably,”Iadmit.“That’sthekindofguyheis.We’reneverhavingthatguyonournetworks.

Andit’sgoodthatSenioriscomingtoday.Wecandiscusswhatamonumentalmistakeitwastotryto
reschedulehimaswell.”

“Don’ttellhimaboutme,Mac.Please.”Ellie’seyespleadwithme.
“Whynot?IbetBrutusdoesthistoeveryone.Peopleneedtoknowwhatadickheis.”
“I’msureeveryoneknowswhatadickheis.Icertainlyfigureditoutearly.”Shesmiles.“Maybe

thereasonhe’sneverbeinginterviewedisbecausepeoplejustcan’tstandtalkingtohim?”

“Yeah,youcouldberight.”Webraceourselvesfortakeoff,andwhenwe’refinallyintheairand

onourwayhome,wechataboutotherthings.Regularthings.Herbookandwhenshemightpublish
it.She’snotsure.She’sstillhopingtosellittoapublisherinsteadofpublishingitherself.

ShetalksaboutMingandIeventellherafewthingsaboutNolan.Hisclub,hismeetingwith

Andrewandthevirtualrealitything.AndbythetimewemakeitbacktotheStonewallhangar,we’re
feelingalittlebetter.Thingsmightnotbesobad.

ThatfeelinglastsuntilwegetofftheplaneandEllie’sfriendMingiswaitingforusjustinsidethe

hangar,handsonhipsandlookinglikeshewantstokillme.

ChapterTwenty-Six-Ellie

“Oh,shit,”Isay.
Mingisrunninguptomewavingherarmsaround.“Don’tgointhere!Don’tgo—”
“Ialreadyknow,”Isay,puttingupahand.“Weknow.”
“Shit!Whatthehellhappened?”
“EllenAbraham,”Isay.
“Thatfuckingcunt.”Maclaughs,butMingshootshimawarninglookandhestops.“Whywould

shedothat?”

“ShesawusthatdayIwentdowntheslide.”
“Well,”Mingsays,handsonhipsasshestaresupatMac,“Ihopeyou’rehappy.Mygirl’s

reputationisnowtaintedbecauseofyou!Whatareyougoingtodoaboutthis?”

“Ellenhasbeenfired,”Macsays.“We’repressingcharges.”
“Youbetterbe,mister.That’sallIhavetosay.Sheneedstogotojailforthis!”
“Ellie,”Macsays,placingahandonmyshoulder.“Idon’twanttorushyou,butwereallyhaveto

go.”

“Mr.StonewalliswaitingtotalktousoverattheAtrium,”ItellMing.
“Shit,”Mingsays.“HebetternotblameyouorIwillhavetohaveatalkwiththatman.I’llsic

Adelineonhim!”IletoutasmalllaughbutthenMinggetsseriousasshepullsmeintoahug.“I’m
sorry,Ells.Really.Thissucks.”

“Thanks,”Isay.“I’llbeOK.I’mquittinganyway.Itcouldbeworse,right?”
Mingnods,poutingherbottomlipinsympathy.“Right.Callmelaterandletmeknowhowit

goes.”

There’sacarwaitingforus,soMacandIgetin,silentallthewayovertotheAtriumbuilding.As

soonaswewalkthroughthedoorstheplacegoesquiet.Ilookatmyfeetaswewalkoverthe
elevatorsandwhenwegetin,allthetalkingstartsupagain.“Well,thatwasfun,”Isay.

Macsaysnothing.Great.
WeexittheelevatorandIcanalreadyhearStonewallSenioryellinginsideMac’sofficeevenwith

thedoorclosed.Stephanieisn’there,sothere’snoonehangingoutbyouroffices,thankGod.Butmy
heartstartsthumpingwildlyassoonasMacopensthedoorandwavesmeforward.

IwanttohideunderSenior ’sstare,butIdon’t.He’ssittingbehindMac’sdesk,talkingonthe

phone.SoItakeaseatinfrontofthedeskandMacfollowssuit,unwillingtotellhisfathertogetout
ofhischair.

StonewallSeniorhangsupandsteepleshisfingersunderhischinandhestaresdownatthedesk.

“Well,you’refired.”

“What?”Isay.
“Notyou,MissHatcher.My…son.”
“Um,”Macsays.“Yeah.It’sprobablyforthebest.OK.”
“OK?”IstareatMacwithanincredulouslook.“You’rejustgoingtogiveup?Whatthehell?We

didn’tdothis,Mr.Stonewall.EllenAbrahamdid.”

“AndIfiredhertoo,”Seniorsays,staringhardatMac.“Butlook,McAllister,youandIfought

overthispositioninthefirstplace.Iwantedyouhere,youpromisedyou’ddothejob,andthenyou
goandsabotageitwithanofficeromancewithoneofmybestemployees.”Heredirectshisattention
overtome.“I’vebeeninformedthatyougavetwoweeks’notice,MissHatcher?Thedaymy…son
arrived?”

“Um—”Shit.ThatreallydoeslookbadforMac.“Itwasn’tbecauseofhim.ItwasreallyBrutus

whopushedmeovertheedgethatday.Andthewhole…well…”Dammit.WhatamIsupposedtosay?
IwashavingadelusionaltextualrelationshipwithHeath?Andthenstartedasexualonewithyour
othersonthesameday?Whatthehelliswrongwithme?Ireallydoneedprofessionalhelp,Macwas
right.

“Whichwealsoneedtotalkabout,”Macsays.“BrutussexuallyharassedEllieduringourmeeting.

Wewon’tbedoinginterviewswithhim.Ever.”Macstaresbackathisfather.“Ifyouwantmetoback
awayfromthejobI’mhappytodothat,butI’mnotbackingawayfromthat.”

StonewallSeniorleansbackinhischair,makingitcreak.Ijustwanttogetthehelloutofhere.But

thenhelooksatMacwithasternface.“Doyoulikeher?”Hemotionstomewithhishead.“Miss
Hatcher?”

“Ido,”Macsays,shrugginghisshoulders.“Ilikeher.”
“Hedidbuymethisdress,”Iofferupasproof.“It’saVictoriaBeckham.”
Macshakeshishead,butIcatchasmile.“Ilikeher,OK?MorethanIlikethisjob.SoI’mperfectly

finewithsteppingback.Heathcantakeoveragain.”Mr.Stonewallletsoutahuffofair.“Hell,Camille
isperfectforthisposition.GiveittoCamilleifyoudon’twantHeath.Mypointis,I’veneverbeenthe
guyyouneed,Alexander.”

Alexander.HecallshisfatherAlexander?
“Youwerejust…”Macstopsandsighs.“Justtryingtogetmeinvolvedagain.Andit’snotworth

thebullshit,youknow?Whybother?”

“Whybother?”Seniorasks.“Whybother?Doyouhavenofeelingsforthetwenty-fivethousand

peoplewhodependonStonewallEntertainmentforapaycheck?Doyoureallythinkyoucanjusthide
fromyourpast?Youcan’t,Mac.Andyou,MissHatcher,”Seniorsays,redirectingtome.“Iknew
yourfatheraswell.”

Aswellaswhat?IfeellikeI’mmissinghalfofthisconversation.
“Ilikedhim.Hewasagoodman.AndsowhenyoucamelookingforaninternshipIgaveityou.

Notbecauseofourrelationship,butbecausetheminuteyousatdownwithmefortheinterviewIsaw
himinyou.Somuch.AndIwasright.You’reoneofthebestemployeesthiscompanyhas.Idon’t
wantyoutoleave,butifyou’vegotbiggerplansIcertainlyunderstand.”

“Thankyou,sir,”Isay.“Idohaveplans.ButIdolikeithereaswell.Idon’treallywanttoleave.I

justdon’twanttomissoutonanopportunity.”

“Soyouhaveanotheroffer?Whoisitwith?”
“No,sir,”Isay.“Notanotheroffer.Iwroteabook.AboutthecelebritiesIhelphereatStonewall.

I’vekindofstartedasmalllife-coachingbusinessontheside.Like…amotivationalspeaker.Iwantto
dothat,Ithink.Atleastgiveitatry,youknow?Takeariskandseewhathappens.”

“Youwroteabook?”Seniorasks.
“Icheckedwithlegal,”Macsays.“Shedidn’tviolatehercontract.”
“Whenisyourbookbeingpublished?”Seniorasks,ignoringMac.
“Well,Idon’tknowyet.I’mstilltryingtofindapublishertotakeit.Nooneseemsveryinterested

insomenobodycelebritycoordinator.MaybeI’llself-publish?”Ishrug.“Idon’tknow.”

“Hmm,”Seniorsays.“Well,Ilikerisk-takers,MissHatcher.”HelooksatMacforthisthough,not

me.“Lifeisallaboutmanagingrisk.Knowingwhentotakeitandwhentobackaway.Somepeople,”
hestressestheword,stilllookingatMac,“haveanaversiontorisk.Somepeople,”hegoeson,“lose

bigonceandthenbackoff.Isn’tthatright,McAllister?”

“Look,”Macsays,“wecanhavethatconversationifyoulike.Butnothere.Notnow.Notinfront

ofEllie.”

“Hmmm,”Seniorsaysagain.Andthenhelooksatme.“MissHatcher,yourresignationisnot

accepted.Stayherewithus.Weneedyou.Goparttimeifyoulike.We’llgetyouanassistant.Make
youthepresidentofcelebrityrelations.Delegatethingsifyouneedto.Butstay.”

Hegetsupfromthedesk,bothMacandIrisingwithhim,andthencomesoverandextendshis

handtome.“Itwasgoodtalkingtoyouagain.IhopeyouandMacworkoutwhateveritisthetwoof
youhavestartedandIhopeyoustaywithStonewall.”HeturnstoMac.“We’lltalkaboutyourplans
later.”

Wewatchhimwalkoutandclosethedoorbehindhim.
“Holyshit,”Isay.“Thatjuststressedmeoutsobad.Areyoureallygoingtoleavethecompany,

Mac?”

“Areyou?”heasksback.
“Well,Idon’tknow.”
“Hemadeagoodoffer.”
“Hedid,”Iadmit.
“Thinkaboutitatleast.”
“Iwill.”
“OK,”Macsayswithasigh.“Well,wegotthroughthatminefield.Wannagetthehelloutofhere?”
“Together?”
“Ofcoursetogether,”Macsays.“He’swrong,youknow.He’swrongaboutme.I’mnotagainst

risk.Iriskedthisjobforyou.That’sworthsomething.”

“True.Andyes.Ireallywanttogetthehelloutofhere.Likebad.”
“Let’sgothen.It’sFriday.Let’shaveaniceweekendandforgetaboutworkuntilnextweek.We

havetimetomakedecisions.Plentyoftime.”

Hetakesmyhandandleadsmeoutoftheoffice.Nooneisreallyaroundwhenwecomeout.

MaybeSeniorthreatenedeveryonewhenheleft?ButJenniferis,becauseshe’sbeenholdingmy
phoneforsafekeepingsinceMactextedher.Wedon’tstayforsmalltalk,justtellherthanksandI
makeourwaydowntotheparkinglotandIgetinmycartofollowhimovertoalocalrestaurantfor
lunch.

ButIcan’thelpwonderingabouthislaststatementupintheoffice.Aboutrisk.Didhereallyrisk

hisjobforme?Ordidheneverwantthejobtobeginwith?Itkindofnullifiestheriskifyoudon’t
reallywantoneofthetwothingsyou’retakingachanceon,right?

WhoamItoquestionhisrisk?Imean,lookatmeandmybook.I’malreadyhedgingmybets

thinkingaboutSenior ’snewoffer.I’dprobablygetafatraisetoo.I’dgeteverythingIthoughtI
wanted.ButIdon’treallywantthejob,doI?Iwanttopublishthisbookandbealifecoach.Sois
stayingatStonewallwhileItakeahalf-heartedshotatanewcareerreallyrisk?

Idon’tknow.Idon’twanttothinkaboutitanymore,soIdropitandjustgetoutwhenMacisthere

attherestaurantopeningmydoor.

AndafterthemorningI’vehad,Ijusthavetoagreewithhislaststatement.Nomorethoughts

aboutworkuntilMonday.

ChapterTwenty-Seven-Ellie

TherestaurantisnotoneI’veeverbeentobefore.It’spastlunchtimenow,sothere’sonlyafew

peoplestillhangingaround.MacandIareseatedatalargesemi-circularboothinthebackandit’s
nicebecausewe’resittingnexttoeachother.

“I’msorry,”hesaysagain.
“Iknow.Youdon’thavetokeepsayingthat.”
“No,ImeanI’msorrythatalltheplansIhadforthisweekendgotmessedup.Iwantedustohavea

nicetime.Dothingstogether.IwasgoingtoflyyoutoAspenwheremyfamilyhasahouse.Makeit
realromantic.Butnow…”

“You’rehavingsecondthoughts?”
“No,”hesays.“Notthat.Notaboutyou,ifthat’swhatyouwereimplying.I’mhavingsecond

thoughtsabouttheweekendIplannedthough.IjustwanttoknowmoreaboutyouandIthoughtwe
neededtimeaway.Butthistriptoday,thatmeeting,everything.Themoodisjustallwrong.Maybewe
canjuststayhome?”

“YouknowhowIlovetostayhome.”
“No,Ellie.Imean,wecanstayhome.Meandyou.Atmyplace.Myhome.Justforgetabout

everythingforacoupledays,takesometimetogettoknoweachother.Makenodecisionsuntil
Monday.”

Igetathrillupmyarms.“Aweekendaway,onlynotaway.”Yes,Iquitelikethesoundofthat.I’d

liketosnooparoundhisstuff.Peekintohisfridge.“Whendowestart?”Ilaugh.

Mac’sblueeyesaresmilingatme.Theyarebrightandhappyeventhoughwejusthadthemost

fucked-upmorningever.“You’reincredible,youknowthat?Mostwomenwould’vewalkedoutafter
thatwholeBrutusfuckup.MostwomenwouldnothaveevengivenmeachanceafterIaccostedthem
inthestairsthatfirstday.Mostwomenwould’vehatedmygutsifIembarrassedthem—humiliated
them,asyousaid—infrontofalltheirpeers.Butyou’resoforgiving.”

“Ijustlikeyou,Mac.”Ishrug.“That’sallthereistoit.Whenyoulikepeopleyouforgivetheir

faultsandlookpasttheirmistakes.It’snotasbigadeal.Andyeah,Iwasprettypissedoffatyouthat
firstday,butnotnearlyaspissedasIwasatBrutusthismorning.Idon’tlikehim.Hatinghimiseasy.
Notforgivinghimiseasy.Butyou,well…I’mjustnotinterestedinhatingyou,Mac.”

Heleansintome,placesbothhishandsoneachsideofmyface,andgivesmeakiss.Itstartsoff

small,butonceIopenmymouth,it’smoredemanding.Hisfingertipsslipundermyhairandgraba
fistful.“Thankyou,”hewhispersintomymouth.“Forlikingme.”

Hepullsbackwhenthewaitercomesandclearshisthroat.“WhatcanIgetforyoufolks?”
Macsighsashebumpsourforeheadstogetherandthenreluctantlypullsbackandordersuswine

andwater.

Oncethewaiterisgone,thingsgetlesstense.Theanxietyofthemorningfadesandtheexcitement

ofspendingthiswholeweekendwithMacathishousetakesover.Ithinkhefeelsittoo.Becausewe
spendtherestoflunchlaughingandsmiling.

Noonecantouchusrightnow.NotBrutusandhisstupidity.NotEllenandherjealousy.Not

StonewallSeniorandhisaccountability.

Thisisit,Ithink.ThismightbethemanIwillfallinlovewith.
McAllisterStonewallisariskworthtaking.

Wegohomeafterlunchandagreetomeettonightathisplaceatnine.
God,Ismilesobigatthatthought.Date.Ihaven’tbeenonadateinsolong,I’velostcount.Itakea

showerbecausethishasbeenonehellofaday.Idon’tusuallytakedaytripstoadifferentstate.

AfterthatIcallMing.
“Youbitch,”shesays.“I’vebeenwaitingalldayforthiscall.”
“Sorry.Butholyhell,Ihadtheworstdayever.Andevenso,itmightturnout…OK.”
“Spill,chick.Like,now.”
Istartwithmymorning.Ofcourse,she’sheardallaboutthesexMacandIhadbecauseitwasall

overtheoffice.WhatMacdidn’ttellmeisthatEllenactuallyputthevideouponthecommunityTV’s.

Iwanttodie.
“IheardJenniferSluts-aroundwentoff,Ellie.Likeflippedoutandyelledateverysingleperson

whostoodinfrontaTVintheAtrium.Itwasonlyupforliketwominutes,anditwasonlyinthe
Atrium.SoIhear.Butthewholeplacewasinanuproar.Ididn’tseeyouleave.Ihadnoideayouwere
outoftownsoIwentovertheretofindyouandcameinonJennifer ’sepicthreats.IthinkIloveher
now.”

“Yeah,metoo.ButEllen,justwhatthefuck?Andjustwaituntilyouhearaboutwhathappened

withBrutusthismorning.”Ispillallthedetailsaboutthemeetingandthenslumpbackontomycouch
withasigh.“Whataday,huh?”

“Whocares,right?You’reoutofthere.IfIwereyouIwouldn’tevenbothertoshowupMonday.

Whycomehalfaweek?”

“Um…”
“You’restillquitting,right?Pleasetellmeyoudidn’tletMacsweet-talkyouintostaying.The

officesexcan’tbethatgood.”

“Well…”
“Ellie!”
“Justlisten.StonewallSeniorcameintotalktoMacandmetodayandhetoldmehe’dgivemea

fatpromotionifIstayed.Letmeworkparttimeanddelegate,hesaid.It’skindofasweetdeal,right?
AndIcouldworkonthebookparttimetoo.It’sawin-win,right?”

“Win-win?No,it’satrap,Ellie.I’mnotsayinghe’sdoingitonpurpose,butit’satrap.You’re

nevergoingtotaketherisknecessarytochangeyourcareerandbesuccessfulunlessyoureallywant
it.Andworkingapart-timewell-payingjobdoesn’tmakesomeonehungryforchange.Itmakesthem
complacent.”

“Idon’tknow.Ihaven’tmadeupmymindyet,butI’mweighingmyoptions.”
Mingissilentafterthat.
“Don’tbemad.”
“I’mnotmad.Ijustthinkyou’resellingyourselfshort.Ithinkyourbookisgreatandyoucould

reallymakeagoatthis.Butit’safull-timejob,Ellie.Youshouldn’thavetimeforanotherone.Both
willsufferandsinceyou’regettingpaidtodotheoneforStonewall,that’stheoneyouwillmakefirst
priority.”

Iknowshe’srightbuttheofferwasagoodone.I’dbestupidnottoatleastconsiderit.“Well,I

didn’tsayI’dtakeit,Ming.I’mjustgivingthingsasecondlook,that’sall.”

Shesighs.“Ijustwantwhat’sbestforyou,Ells.Youknowthat,right?”

“Ido.Butit’snotassimpleasitsounds.Anyway,I’mgoingtogo.MacandIhaveadateandI’m

prettyexcitedaboutit.AllthisstuffcanwaituntilMonday.Infact,I’mallaboutlivinginmylittle
delusionalbubbleabouteverythinguntilMonday.”

Wesayourgoodbyesandhangupafterthat.Ican’thelpbutfeelthewindhasbeentakenoutofmy

sails.Andmaybethat’snotabadthing.ThiswasthedayfromhellandallI’mthinkingaboutisseeing
Mac.Asidefromthelunchtoday,everythingwe’vedonesofarhasbeenduringwork.I’mdyingto
findoutwhathe’slikeinreallife.Awayfromthejob.Whenhe’snotmyboss,justmylover.

Ipacksomeclothesandstuff.Notworkwear,foronce.AndIcan’thelpbutwonderifhe’s

anxioustolearnmoreaboutmetoo?Wedon’tknowmuch.Andwhathedoesknowismostlyfrom
mydelusionaltextualrelationshipwithhisbrother.

God,that’ssoembarrassing.
Butit’sallreal.That’sthething.It’stherealme.Maybetherealmeonsteroids,butthat’sme.
Andhe’sstillinterested.Ithinkthatcountsforsomething.

ChapterTwenty-Eight-Ellie

IgettohisbuildingandpulluptothefrontdoorsbecausetheparkinggaragehasagateandIhave

nokey.Avaletcomestomywindowwhilethedoormanappearswithasmile.“I’mheretoseeMr.
Stonewallinthepenthouse,”Itellthevalet.

“Yes,MissHatcher,”thedoormansays.“Hecalleddownandtoldustoexpectyou.Ifyou’dliketo

followme,I’lltakeyouupandletyouin.”

“Isn’thehome?”Iask,gettingoutandgoingformybaginthebackseat.
Thedoormanbeatsmetoitandsays,“Hesteppedoutafewminutesago,MissHatcher.Butsaid

he’dberightback.”

Well,that’sinteresting.Hetrustsmeinhishome.Alone.Tsk.Men.Ihopeheisnotexpectingmeto

sitdemurelyandnotsnoopthroughhisplace.That’sprobablybeyondmycapability.I’mconsumed
withcuriosityaboutthisman.

Ifollowthedoormanintothelobby,whichisridiculouslyluxurious.There’salargemodern

fireplaceasthecenterpointofasittingareathat’sbigenoughtohostaparty.Thefurnitureismodern
too.Allfancylinesandcurvesthattellsmeit’sprobablyhand-madeandmoreexpensivethan
anythingI’veeverowned,andmystuffisnotcheap.

There’sapianointhecornerinfrontofthefloor-to-ceilingwindows,whichgoupatleastthree

stories.Myflatshoesclickalittleacrossdarkmarblefloorsthatareshinyenoughformetoseemy
reflectionandI’msuddenlysorryIworejeans.Iknewthisplacewasfancy.It’salandmarkhereinthe
TechCenter.Andanarchitecturaloriginal.ButIdidn’tthinkaboutdoormenandvaletswhenIputmy
weekendcasualoutfittogether.AtleastIdidn’twearshorts.

Theelevatorwetakeisofftotheside.“Penthouseonly,”thedoormansays,likehe’sinchargeof

impressingmeinMac’sabsence.Itmakesmesmile.

“I’mEllie,”Isay,stickingoutmyhand.
“George,”thedoormansays.“IlikeMac.He’s…unusual.Notliketherestofthepeoplewholive

here.”

“Oh,really?”Isay,leaninginwithinterest.“What’shelike?Ijustmethimlastweek.”
“Pleasant.Generous.He’sagreattipper.Wheneverheneedshelp,herewardsmeeventhoughit’s

notexpectedhere.Andhesmilesalot.Especiallywhenhetalksaboutyou.”

“Hetalksaboutme?”
Georgelaughsaswegetintheelevatorandheusesakeytomakethepenthousebuttonlightup

andthedoorsclose.“Yes.He’scomedowninthemiddleofthenightafewtimestalkingaboutyou
thisweek.”

“Oh,God.Ihopenoneofitwasembarrassing.”
“Nothingtoopersonal.Buthedidadmithewasslightlyobsessedwithyou,MissHatcher.Andasa

fatherI’dusuallybeconcernedaboutaremarklikethat.Butitcameoffas,youknow…”Hetrailsoff.

“Likewhat?”Iask.
“Likeamanwhomadeamistakeandregretsit.Likehethinksyou’resomethingspecial.”
Well,well,well.Ismileandsighatthesametime.That’sawonderfullittlepieceofinformation.

I’mgladtoknowIwasn’ttheonlysleeplessonethispastweek.

“I’veknownStonewallSeniorforever.Workedheresincethebuildingopened.ButIneverknew

hehadtwosons.NotuntilMacshowedup.”

“Really?”That’s…weird.Howcouldadoorman,theguywhoshouldknoweverythingabout

everyone,notknowaboutMac?It’slikehe’ssomekindofsecret.Maybehe’sthebastardchild?

Ialmostsnickeratthat.No,Macdoesn’tcomeoffliketheproductofanout-of-wedlocktryst.
WhenwereachthetopfloorGeorgetwiststhekeyagainandthedoorsopenstraightintoMac’s

penthouseapartment.“Wow,”Isay.ThefirstthingIseeisaviewofthecity.It’sdark,sothelightsare
justbreathtaking.WearehighupandIcanseeallthelandmarkbuildingsdowntown.Thewindows
areframedinsheerwhitecurtainsthatprobablycostmorethanmycar.

“Yes.”Georgenods,wavingmeintothemassiveroom.“It’sreallybeautifulatnight.Where

wouldyoulikeyourbag,MissHatcher?”

“Um…”Ilookaround,decideIhavenoidea,andjustpointtothefoyerfloor.“Thereisfine,

thankyou,George.”

“AsIsaid,Mr.Stonewallshouldbehereinamoment,somakeyourselfathome.”Georgesteps

backintotheelevatorand,justbeforethedoorsclose,givesmeawinkthatlooksalittle
conspiratorial.

“Thankyou!”Icall.
ThenIturnbacktoMac’spenthouse.There’sagleamingchromeandglassstaircasethatleadsup

toasecondfloorandjustliketheAtriumoveratStonewallEntertainment,there’sawallofwater.It’s
verysubtlethough.Justasheetofwaterthatfallssosoftlydownthewhitetile,itsoundslikea
tricklingbrook.Verysoothing.VeryZen.Veryrelaxing.

IwalkovertothewindowtotakeintheviewbutthenstopshortwhenIseeasilverenvelope

proppeduponthewhitemarblecoffeetableinthesittingarea.Istepontoarugthatwouldcover
everysquareinchofmybedroomathome,anditmightinfactbemadeofluxurioussheepskin.My
feetsinkdownseveralinches.

IslipmyshoesoffasIwalkovertothecard.ItsaysMissEloiseHatcheronthefront.Engraved,

likeafancyinvitationonemightgettoawedding.MyheartthumpsafewtimesandthenIcarefully
pickitupandtakeaseatonthecouch,pullingmylegsupasIflipitover,opentheflap,andremove
thecard.

Thewholethingisengravedinfancytype,justlikethefrontoftheenvelope.“Wow,”Isay.“What

areyouupto,Mac?”

DearEloise,

Welcometome.Iwantyoutoknoweverything,butnotallatonce.Solet’splayagame.Letmetake

youonalittletourofMac’slife.Areyouupforit?Ifso,sayyes.

McAllister

Iletoffalittlelaughandthenlookaround.“Areyouhere?”Silence.Well,I’mupforagameof

Get-To-Know-Mac,soIsay,“Yes,”soloudlyitechoesoffthewalls.

TheTVcomestolifeofftomyleftandIjumptomyfeet,startled.
“Hi,Ellie,”MacontheTVsays.
He’ssomewhereoutside.It’snightandIwonderifthisisliveortapedfromearlier.Howmuch

earlier?Notmuch.Hedefinitelydidallthistoday.Hecouldn’tpossiblyhaveknownI’dagreeto
spendtheweekendwithhimwhenhewentintoworkthismorning.Weweren’tevenonspeaking
terms.Whatkindofpowermustittaketogetanengravedcardandenvelopelikethisinhalfaday’s

time?Ican’tevenimagine.

“I’veleftyouaclueinthekitchen,”TVMacsays.“Lookaroundandfindit.Whenyougettothe

lastclue,you’llfindme.”Hepauses,hiseyesblazingthatceruleanblueIhavecometolove.“If…
you’restillinterested.”

JesusChrist.Thatwasaloadedchallenge.Ishovethecardintomybackpocketandgolooking

forthekitchen,becauseI’mdefinitelyupforitsofar.Whatcouldhepossiblybeworriedabout?He’s
practicallyperfect.

Istepofftherug,myfeetreluctanttoleavethesoftness,andlookaround.Thereisalonghallway

runningpastthestaircase.Theblackmarblefloorhaswhitemarblesquaresinlaidinit.Theykindof
looklikesteppingstonesinaseaofblack.Likesomethingtobefollowed.

Ifollow,passingbythewallofwaterthattricklesdownintoashallowstandingpoolfilledwith

blackandwhitepebbles.OnceIgetpastthatthewallbecomesanartgallery.NothingIrecognize,all
verymodernandnottomytaste,butI’msuretheyarealloriginals.

Upaheadthere’saglowingrice-paperwallandwhenIgettotheopendoor,Iseeit’savery

Japanese-stylemeditationroom.It’snotthekitchen,soIkeepwalkingtotheendofthehallandthen
havetomakeachoice.Leftorright?

Tomyrightisadiningroom,soIgothatwayinthehopethatthekitchenisnotfaroff.
Howbigisthisplace?Ipassbyawhitemarbletablewithchromelegsandcountthechairs.

Sixteen.Itlooksmorelikeaconferenceroomtable.Aplaceforameeting.Ibettheyhaveretreats
here.Andparties.

Thenextroomhasapooltablemadeofblondwoodandwheat-coloredfelt.ButIscanpastitand

seewhitebarstools.Maybethat’sthekitchen?Iwalkthroughthepooltableroomandendupatabar.

Hmmm.Ireallydidn’tthinkitwouldbesohardtofindakitchen.Butithastobeclose,soIsearch

foraclue.There’saswingingdoor,thekindyouseeinindustrialkitchensinrestaurants.Onethat
goesbothways.

Thathastobeit.
Ismileandwalkovertoit,pushingthedooropenjustenoughtoslipinside.
Thekitchenishuge.Likebiggerthansomerestaurants.Thecabinetsareveryshinyand

luxuriouslylacqueredinwhite.Icanseemyselfinthemlikeamirror.

“OK,”Iwhispertomyself.“Fridge.”It’shuge.Actually,it’stwo,sidebyside,thatopenuplike

Frenchdoors,butarebothbiggerthananyrefrigeratorI’veeverseen.

Ipullopenthefirstone.
Empty.
Hmmm.
Ipullopenthesecondone.Alsoempty,withoneexception.Twobottlesofbeerthatprobablyhave

themostinterestinglabelonthemI’veeverseen.ThebrandiscalledZombieDustandthatmakesme
laughalittle.Thesilverenvelopeisproppedbetweenthem,anditsays,ReadMe.

Ipickitup,turnitover,andslidethecardout.Itlooksjustlikethelastcard.

DearEloise,

I’mnotabigdrinker,butIlikebeer.Thisismyfavorite.Bringthemwithyouonyourjourneyand

we’llsharethemattheend.

Gotothetheatreroomnextandenjoyasmileonme.

McAllister

IsmileasIpickupthecard,shoveitinmybackpocketwiththelastone,andthengrabthetwo

beersbytheneck.I’mnotsurewhyMacisgoingtosomuchtrouble,orwhatI’mlearningabouthim
onthisscavengerhunt,butit’scleverandit’scertainlygotmyattention.

IleavethekitchenthewayIcameandendupbackinthebar.Surelythetheatreroomisnotfar

away?Moviesanddrinksgotogether.Andsureenoughthere’sanotherhallwaydowntotheright.

Thetheaterroomisglowingabrightblue,soIseeitrightawaywhenIturnthecornerintothat

hallway.IhavetostopandtakeitinwhenIgettothedoorway,becauseit’shuge.Notasbigasa
regulartheatre,butcertainlywell-equippedtohosttwodozenpeopleormore.

Thisplacecannotbeahome.Wholiveslikethis?
Thisroomiscarpetedinasoftwheatcolor,muchlikethefeltonthepooltable.Istepdown,

searchingforthenextinvitation,untilIgettothefrontseat.It’snottooclosetothegiantscreenonthe
farwall.Aprimeseat,infact.Therecliningchairsareallanivory-coloredleatherwithdrinkholders
andthesilverenvelopeI’mlookingforisproppeduponthearmrest.

Ireachforit,bitingmylipasmyheartthumpsalittle.Thisisfun.
Itakethecardoutandreadit.

DearEloise,

Ineversawthismovieasakid,butincollegeIhadaverygoodfriendwhowasobsessedwithit.

Wemust’vewatcheditahundredtimesandeverytimewelaughed.Maybeweweredrunk,butFerris
Bueller’sphilosophyisthatoftheteenager.Theguywitheverythinginfrontofhim.Noregretsyet.No
mistakes,justpotential.That’showeveryonesawus.AteamofMr.Perfects.

Don’tbelieveeverythingyousee.

McAllister

“Bueller?”thesurroundsoundsaysfromeverypossiblecorneroftheroom.
“Oh,myGod,Mac,”Isaytotheroom.“Youaretoomuch.”SoItakeaseatasthehighlightreel

forFerrisBueller’sDayOffcomesonscreen.Ilaughateachscene,rememberingbacktothefirst
timeIeversawit.Ferrisistheteenageversionofaconman.EveryonewantedtobecleverlikeFerris
aftertheywatchedthismovie.Hewastheseventeen-year-oldversionofMr.Perfect.

Whentheclipsareoverthere’samessageonscreenthatsays:Gofindthemusicroom.
Musicroom.Ipassedapianooutinthemainlivingarea,butIdon’tthinkthat’sit.SoIstickthe

cardinmypocket,pickupmybeers,andexitthetheater.Iturnrightandkeepgoingfurtherdownthe
hallway.There’salotofmodernartinthesewallstoo—anothergallery,Iguess.Andattheendofthe
hallisaslidingbarndooronatrackhighabove.Iopenit,unsurewhatI’llfind,andhappilyenterthe
musicroom.Thereisonebluechairsittingonyetanotherexpansivesheepskinrug,facingthemost
elaboratesoundsystemI’veeverseen.

There’sasilverenvelopeattachedtothefrontofthesystem,soIwalkover,enjoyingthefeelof

therugbeneathmybarefeet,andliftitoff.

BehinditisasmallwhitestickynotewiththewordsPressHereprintedinneatblueink.Ipressand

listenasthesongplays.

Notmusic,justastomp,stomp,clap.RepeatinguntilWeWillRockYoucomesonsoloud,Ifeel

likeQueencouldbeperformingthissonginfrontofme.

IsetmytwobeersonthesmalltableandtakeaseatinthechairasIopenthecard.

DearEloise,

Itsoundslikeananthem.Almostacalltoarmswiththeheavystompingandacapellalyrics.But

it’snot.It’sastoryaboutambition,andlife,andreality.Aboystartsoutwithdreams,growsto
manhoodwithexpectations,andendsupanoldmanwithregrets.

Idon’twanttobeanoldmanwithregrets.Andthat’swhyI’mcautious.
Pleasegotothelibrarynext.

McAllister

Igetup,grabmybeersandleavethroughthebarndoors,turningrightonceagain,becausethat’s

theonlywaythatdoesn’thavemebacktracking.Thelibraryisattheendofthishallway,Icanseeit
fromhere—glowingwithsoftamberlightthatreflectsoffthedarkpolishedwood.Ientertofinda
singlebookplacedinthecenterofalargeroundtable.Isetthebeersdown,hopingtheydon’tleavea
ringofwateronthisbeautifulwood,andreachforthebook.

It’scalledThe48LawsofPowerbyRobertGreene.I’vereadit.Itwasrequiredincollegebusiness

classes.There’sacardtuckedintotheverybackandwhenthebookfallsopenitlandsonLaw46—
NeverAppearTooPerfect.

Iopenthecardandread.

DearEloise,

Greenesayspeoplewhoappeartooperfectcreatesilentenemiesthroughjealousy.Amanwithno

faultsisnotaman.Irelatetothislawthemost,eventhoughallthelawsaresolid,practical,good
adviceforanyone,atanystageinlife.ButIrelatetoLaw46themostbecauseitisthefirstlessonI
learnedonmyown.

Pleasefindtheclosetintheredroom.

McAllister

Well.He’sgotsomethingtosay,he’sjustnotsurehowtosayit,Iguess.Andthisscavengerhuntis

helpinghim.Whateveritis,itmustweighheavilyonhismind.IsighasIstickthecardinmypocket,
pickupthebeers,wipethewaterringawaywiththebottomofmyshirt,andgoofftofindthered
room.

Thistakesmeawhile.Longerthanseemspossible.Butthisplace,thispenthouse—it’shuge.Ipass

bymanyroomsandfinallystumbleontotheredone.

It’sjustanotherprettyroom.Ifyoulikethisstyle.I’mappropriatelyimpressedwiththeluxuryof

it.Theminimalistopulence.IfIknewthetotalpriceofthethingsthisapartmentcontainsitwould
probablybemorethanI’devermakeinalifetime.

SoIpassrightbythefurnishingsandopenoneoftwodoorstofindanequallyimpressive

bathroom.Imoveontothenextdoorandfindthecloset.

It’sempty.Liketherefrigerator.Doesheevenlivehere?
Well,it’snotquiteemptybecausethere’sapairofmen’sshoesplacedformaximumeffectinthe

centerofashelfmadejusttoholdshoes.Thisclosetwouldbringmostwomentoorgasm.Hell,I’d
dieforaclosetlikethis.BeforeIstartedmylittlehunt,thatis.Becausethere’ssomethingaboutall
thisthatismakingmevery,verynervous.

Thesilverenvelopeisplacedbetweentherightandleftshoe.Ipickitupandslidethecardout.

DearEloise,

Putthemon.Yes,Iknowthey’retoobig.It’salothardertowalkinanotherman’sshoesthanyou

thought,huh?

Thenextbedroomistwodoorsdown.

McAllister

Iputthemonandmyfeetswiminsidethesoft,Italianleather.Ihavetoscuffmywayoutofthered

roomanddownthehallwaytothenextstoponmytour.IenterthebedroomexpectingMactobein
here.Waitingforme.Tohavesex,maybe.

Butit,likeeverythingelse,isemptysaveforasilverenvelopeplacedneatlyontopofafluffy

whitepillow.Iwalkoverandnoticethatonesideofthebedismadeupperfectly,whiletheotheris
pulleddown.Likesomeonehasbeensleepingonthisside.

Theenvelopeisplacedonthepillowpresumablybeingused.
Iopenitupandreadthecard.

DearEloise,

Thatbedissad,right?Lonely.Missingsomething.I’mmissingsomethingtoo.Ithinkyou’remy

missingpiece.ButbeforeyoucomeupstairstotheterraceIjustwantyoutoknowIneversaidIwas
perfect.Ineverclaimedtobeperfect.

McAllister

ChapterTwenty-Nine-Mac

ThemomentIhearhersoftfootstepscomingupthestairstotheterraceIlosemynerveandtoss

thelastsilverenvelopeintothelong,skinnylineoffirethatisburninginsidearectangularconcrete
pit.Theedgescatchfirstandbegintoblacken,thenshrivel.Iwillthefiretobehotter,burnfaster,so
thatshewon’tknowI’mgoingtokeepthelastpieceofthepuzzletomyself.

“Well,”Elliesaysfrombehindme.
Iturn,carefultowithholdtheviewoftheburningenvelopefromher,blockingitwithmybody.
“Thatwasquiteasurprise,Mac.I’mnotsurewhattothinkaboutit.”She’snotwearingmyshoes.

Theyarefartoobigforher.She’sholdingthem,onedanglingfromeachhand,withthebottlesof
ZombieDustbeerstuffedinside.Shewalkstowardsme.“Thatwasquitethehuntyousentmeon.”

“Itwas…”Istumbleforwords.“Justawayforyoutogettoknowme.Somethingdifferentthan

theusualtellmeaboutyourself.I’mnotatypicalman,Ellie.I’mjusttryingtogetthatpointacross.”

“Pointtaken,”shesays,slowlywanderingovertome.“Andyou’renotperfect.”
“No,”Isay,shakingmyhead.“I’veprobablymadealotofmistakeswithyoualready.ButIhope

youdon’tholditagainstmebecauseIcan’ttakeanythingback.”

Sheoffersmeupasmallsmilethatcomeswithashrug.“Idon’tknow.Idon’tthinkyou’vemade

anymistakes.It’sbeenfun.Iknowwe’vehadfights.Butthat’sallpartofgettingtoknoweachother.
AndI’mstartingtofeelalittleinadequateabouthowmuchofmyownlifeI’veshared.”Shelaughs
andItakethisasagoodsign.Myhintshavenotyetscaredheroff.

“IhadyourHeathmessages.Icameintothisrelationshipwithanunfairadvantage,evenifthey

wereonlydelusionaldreams.”

Shewanderspastmeandmyheartbeatsfaster,wonderingifthefinalenvelopehasburnedaway

mypastyet.

Buteithershedoesn’tnotice,orithas,becauseshetakesaseatonthelargewhitecouchandtucks

herlegsunderneathher.

Iturnandfollowherlead,sittingdownnexttoher,reachingforabottleofbeertuckedinsideone

oftheshoes.Ipullabottleopenerfrommysuitcoatpocketandpopitoff,thenhandittoher.She
smilesasIrepeatthiswithmyownbeer.

Weclinktheglassofourbottlestogether,likewedothisallthetime,andeachtakeasip.
“Theyweren’tdelusionaldreams,though,”Elliesays.“That’sreallyme.”
“Whichpart?”Ilaugh.
Sheshrugs.“Mostofit.Iwantthathouse.Someday.Iwantthepuppytoo.Andthekidsandthe

nurseries.Iwantaperfectlife,Iguess.”

“AndyetIamnottheperfectman.”
“Nope,”shesays.“Itappearsnot.”
Imighthavealittlepanicattackatheradmission.Isshehavingsecondthoughts?
“ButIdon’tthinkyouneedtwoperfectpeopletohavetheperfectlife.”
Iletoutalongexhale.Relief.“Iagree,”Isay.
“Butthere’smoretomethanthosedreams.”
“Iwanttoknowallaboutyou,Ellie.Everysinglebit.”

Shesmilesasthelightfromthefiredancesacrossherface.“Idon’treallyhaveanysecrets.I

mean,youknowthemalready.Iwantallthatromanticstuff.Iguessthat’smysecret.AndIdon’tthink
it’ssilly.IjustthinkIdeserveit.”

“Didyouhavea…abadchildhood?”
Sheshakesherhead.“No.Notreally.Ofcourse,mymotherwalkedoutonmeandmyfatherwhen

Iwasabouteight.Justgotbored,Iguess.Maybeshewantedtheperfectlifetooandmyfathercouldn’t
providethat.Butit’sallverytypicalthesedays,right?Peopleneverseemtobesatisfied.Sothatwas
kindoftragic,butIbouncedback.IhadmyfatheruntilIwastwentyandhediedinaboatingaccident.
Everyyearwewentdeep-seafishingintheBahamas.Itwasaconstantinmylife,evenbeforemy
momleft.AndthatyearIwasincollegeandcouldn’tgetaway.Andofcourse,that’swhenithappens,
right?Lifetwistsandthingschangewhenyou’redoingordinarythingsandnotpayingattention.

“Yourfatherandmyfatherkneweachotherfromchildhood.Weweren’tasrichasyouguys,butI

grewupwithmoney,andacertainlevelofprivilegethatcamewithexpectations.That’showIgotmy
internshipwithStonewallEntertainment.”

“I’msureithadalottodowithyourpotentialaswell.”
“Oh,yes.I’msure.I’mnotsellingmyselfshortjustbecauseIwasofferedanopportunity.AndI’m

certainlynotsayingI’mungrateful,butthis—”Shethrowsherhandsout,hergestureencompassing
everythingaroundus,indicatingthisplace,andthislife,andthismoment.“Thisisn’twhatIwant.”

“Thepuppies,”Isay.“Andthedreamhouse.”
Sheshrugs.“Morethanthat,butyes.Yourfathermademeaninterestingoffertoday.”
“Willyoustay?”
“Willyou?”
“Hefiredme.”Ilaugh.
“Soyoudidn’ttalkaboutitafterward?Thisafternoon?”
“No,”Isay.“He’sgone.We’lldothatinhisowngoodtime.”
“Sowhatwillyoudo?”
“ShowupforworkonMondayandseewhathappens.”
“Well,that’skindofcocky.”Shegiggles.
“Hewantsmethere.Notshowingupwouldbeaninsult.I’mnottryingtoinsulthim.Iwanta

specificlifetoo,Ellie.Ihavemyowndream.Iguessyoucancallitthat.”

“What’syourdream?”
Iwanttotellherthetruth,butIcan’t.Ican’tbecauseIburnedthesecretI’mkeepingfromher.It’s

shriveleduptodustinthefireinfrontofus.SoIchoosemywordscarefully.“Iwant…predictability.
Stability,Iguess.That’sprobablyabetterword.AndIwanttochangethingsatthesametime.”

“Soundslikeaparadox,ifyouaskme.”
“Itis.”Itakealongdrinkofmybeerandwatchherasshedoesthesame.“Iliketoberootedin

fact.Inreality.”

“Sowhydoyoulikeme?”Ellieasks.“Idon’tthinkI’mthatgirl.”
“No,”Isay,admittingit.“You’readreamer.Andthatscaresmebecauseitinvolvesthingsthatare

untrue,orattheveryleast,unknown.Ihaveathingfortruth,Ellie.Alonghistoryofbeingfucked
overbythedelusionalliesofothers.”

Shesquintshereyes.Theyflashwithmomentaryanger,butshegetsitundercontrol.“Thenwhy

arewehere?”

“MaybeI’mwrongaboutyou?”
“MaybeI’mwrongaboutyou?”shecounters.
“Maybeweshouldtakeachanceononeanotherandfindout?”
“Whatdoesthatlooklike?”sheasks,squintinghereyesinsuspicion.

Isighandshrug.Myturntothrowmyarmsouttoencompasstheworldaroundus.“This.”Ilaugh.

“Thisnight.Thisweekend.Thisdate.Idon’treallyknow.”

“Thenwhydidyoustartthiswithme,Mac?IfyouknewIwasn’twhatyouwerelookingfor,then

whystartsomethingyoudidn’twanttofinish?”

Isigh.“Ithoughtyouwerecute.BeforeIeverevensawyou,itwas…kindof…adorable.”
“Youfindmyinnermostthoughtsadorable?”Shemakesaface,likeshehasabadtasteinher

mouth.“I’mnotsurethat’sacompliment.”

“Itis,”Isay,pullinghertowardsme,onearmaroundhershoulders.“Ipromise.”Itakeherbeer

andsetitontheedgeoftherectangularfirepitinfrontofus.“I’mgettingusedtoyou.”

“Oh,Jesus,”shesays,pullingaway.
“Stop,”Iorder.“Andlistentome.I’mgettingusedtotheideathatmaybeadreamisnotalie.And

allthatstuffyousaidtoHeathwas…well,notexactlyadream.Butapossibility.Idon’tthinkyou
reallylikedHeath,didyou?”

“Ithoughtwewerefriends.Andmaybesomepartofmethoughthemightfitintomydelusional

dreamworld.ButdidIreallythinkIwasmarryinghim?Forreal?No.Itwasanescapeforme.I’ve
beeninadryspell.Ijustneededtospicethingsup.”

“Well,Ithinkyouaccomplishedthat.”Webothlaughnow,andIfeelsomeofthetensioneaseout

ofher.“Itcertainlygotmyattention.AndIdon’twanttohurtyourfeelings,butyouwerenottheonly
womanfromworkwhowastextinghimwithdelusions.HeathandEllen—”

“No!”sheexclaims.“Gross.She’soldenoughtobehismother!”
“Hey,she’squitethesexpotonscreen.HeathhadherinhisphoneasEllie.SoIwasgettingthe

messagesfromthetwoofyouconfused.”

“Oh,myGod.”Shelaughs.“Youthought—?”Sheburstsoutwithaguffaw.
“Yeah.IreallythoughtyouwerethesamepersonwhenIcameontoyouinthestairs.AndIshould

apologizeforthat,butnah.Iliketheunexpectedtwist,Ellie.I’mveryhappywithhowthingsare
turningoutforme.EvenifyouareontheothersideoftheridiculouslineandI’mstandingoverin
thestodgyareaoftherelationshipwaitingroom.”

“Hell,Mac.You’redefinitelynotstodgywhenitcomestome.I’veneverhadsomuchfuninmy

entirelife.”

“Metoo,”Iadmit.“Thishasbeenacrazygoodtwoweeksforme.I’vehadmorefun,more

smiles,morelaughswithyouthanI’vehadinyears.Probablyclosetoadecade.”Islipmyhandup
hert-shirtandfondleherbreastthroughherbra.“Itdoesn’thavetoend,youknow.Wecankeep
going.Giveitarealtry.”

Idon’twaitforananswer,juststandupandpullhertoherfeetwithme.Ileadheracrossthe

terrace,downthesteps,throughthemyriadofhallways,andnooks,androoms,untilwegettothe
masterbedroom.It’slitup,andit’sonthesecondfloor,notanywhereclosetowhereIhadherpoking
aroundearlier.

Theking-sizedbedisonthefarwall,framedbyafloor-to-ceilingwindowwithaviewofthecity.

Istandheratthefootofthebedandbegintoundressherbody.Ieasehershirtoverherhead,place
myhandsonherbreastsandgivethemasqueezeasIcrouchdownandlickherstomach.Myhands
wanderdownthecurveofherwaistandstoptoholdheratthehipswhileInipthesoft,sensitiveskin
justabovethebuttononherjeans.

Herfingersthreadthroughmyhair,grippingslightlyassheletsoutalongbreathofair.“Talk,”I

say.“Iwanttohearyoutalk.”

“What?”Elliebreathes.
Myhandsaresuddenlyrippingthebuttonofherjeansopen.Thezipperrakesdown,exposingher

lowerbelly.Ileaninandcoverherskinwithmymouth,nippingheragain.AndthenIyankherjeans

down,herwhitepantiesrollingdownwiththeforce,andtossthemaside.“YouknowwhatI’masking.
Doit.Doit,Ellie.Youliketopretend,don’tyou?Itgivesyouathrill,doesn’tit?”

Isliponehandbetweenherlegs,carefulnottotouchinanyoftheplacesshe’scravingrightnow.

Butinstead,Ireachupandplacethewholeofmypalmagainsther,mythumbplayingwiththe
wetnessbetweenherlegs.She’sgrippingmyhairtighter.

“Just…don’tstop,”shemoanswithhereyesclosed.“Idon’tknowwhattosayexceptthat.Idon’t

wantyoutostop.”

“Idon’twanttostopeither.Sotellmewhatyouwantmetodo.”
Sheopenshereyesforamoment,butmythumbpressesagainsthersoftfoldsandhereyes

immediatelyclose.“That,”shesays.“Moreofthat.”

“Thewords,Ellie.Iliketohearthewords.It’sfuckinghot.Thedirtier,thebetter.Sosaythem.Say

themall,Ellie.AndI’llputmyfingersanywhereyouwant.I’llputmymouthanywhereyouwant.I’ll
fuckyousore.I’lldowhateverittakestomakeyoucome.Makeyoumine.”

Sheispantingnow.Hergriponmyhairflexesandcontracts,pulsatingwiththewaveofpleasure

thatissurelybuildinginsideher.

Butshestayssilent.Nothingbutherheavybreathasaresponse.
Iwithdrawmyfingersandstandup.
“Mac,”shefinallyutters.“Please…just…”
“Undressme,”Isay.“Ifyoucan’taskforwhatyouwant,I’mhappytogofirst.”
ThatfingernailcomesrightuptohermouthandforthefirsttimeInoticethatherpolishis

chipped.Shechewsonitforamomentandthensheplaceseachofherhandsonmyshouldersand
slipsmysuitcoatoff.Shecarefullylaysitonthecushionsnexttousandthenfiststhefabricofmy
dressshirtandpullsitoutofmypants.

“Oh,yeah,”Isay,shakingmyheadalittle.“IlikethisEllie.”
Sheloosensmytie,flipsupmycollar,andslidesitovermyhead,droppingthesilkdownontop

ofthecoat.Herlipspresstogetherandthenrelaxasshebeginsunbuttoningmyshirtfromthebottom
up.Whenshegetstothelastbuttonsheslidesitovermybareshoulders,herfingertipsbrushing
gentlyagainstmyskin.Tracingthecurvesofmymusclesallthewaydownmyarmsuntiltheshirt
fallstotheflooratourfeet.

Iplacebothmyhandsonhershouldersandpressdown.“Kneel,”Isay.Ihavenoproblemasking

hertodowhatIlike.None.“Andtakemydickout.”

SheletsoutalongexhaleandIcanalmostfeelherpulsepoundinginherneckasshelowers

herselftothefloor.Shelooksupatme,hereyeswideassheswallowshard.

“Fuck,”Isay.“Justpicturingyousuckingmydickmakesmeharder.”Harder,becauseI’mso

fuckinghardrightnow,mycockmightbemadeofstone.

Shetakesherattentiontomybeltandherfingersstumblethroughthemotionsofunbucklingit.

Shedrawsinanotherdeepbreath,likeshe’ssteelingherselfforthenextpart,butshedoesnothesitate.
Thebuttononmytrousersisflippedthroughthenarrowslitandthensheisdraggingmyzipper
down.Onehandslidesin,cuppingmythickshaft,theotherpullsonmyboxerbriefsuntilmycockis
free.

Ifistit,pumpingitupanddownasshewatches,andthenIguideittohermouth.“Open,”Isay.
Shelooksupatme,blinkingtwice,andthenobeys.
Iletasmallgrinescapeasherhotbreathpuffsoutagainstmytipandthenthewarmthofher

mouthsurroundsme,sealingagainstmyskin.Shesucks,pushingdown,makingmeenterherthroat
beforedrawingback,hertongueflatasitdragsalongmycock,andthenreleasesme,lookingup
againtoseeifIlikewhatshecando.

“Keepgoing,”Isay,encouragingher.“Iloveit.”Butshedoesn’t.Sheholdsstill.“Ellie?”Iask,

cockingmyheadslightlywiththequestion.

“YouwanttoknowwhatIwantyoutodo?”
“Tellme,”Isay,unabletostopafullsmile.“Whateveritis,I’mupforit.”
Shelooksmestraightintheeyesasshetakeseachofmyhandsandplacesthemonthesideofher

head.Pressingthemagainstherskull,tellingmetogriphertight.

I’mhappytoobligeherwishes.AndIknowwhatshewants,butIwanttohearherask.
“Holdmehere,”shesays.“And…”Sheloseshernerveandblushesabrightpink.
Ireachdownwithonehand,cuppingherfullbreastasbestasIcan.Itspillsoutbetweenmy

fingers,heavyanderotic.Itwisthernipple,makinghermoan.“Tellme,Ellie.Youhavenofucking
ideahowbadlyIwanttohearwhatyouhavetosay.”

“Iwantyouto…”Sheshakesherheadandsmiles,stillembarrassed.
Itakemyhanduptoherheadagain,grippingherhairasIbringhermouthtowardsme,myhips

almostreachingforher,mycockthrobbingwithanticipation.“This?”Iask.

Shenods,butlooksdown.
“Sayit,”Icommand.“Allyouhavetodoissayit.RememberhowgooditfeltwhenIfuckedyour

ass,Ellie?Andyoudidn’tthinkyou’dlikeit.Butthis?Youknowyouwantit.Youknowyou’regoing
toloveit.Sojusttellme.Imightcomeonyourfacejusthearingyousaythosewords.”

“Fuck…”shesays.“Fuck…myface.Likeyouwould…mypussy.”
“Holyhell,”IsaywiththeslightesthintofsatisfactionthatIcan’ttuckaway.“Iamhappytomake

youhappy.”Igripherharder,ifthat’spossible,andthemomentsheopenshermouth,Ithrustinside
her.Pastherlips.Sheisnotwideenoughtotakemywholegirth,soherteethscrapejustenough
acrossmycocktomakemyheadfallbackwardswithpleasure.

IpumpmycockintoherwetmouthjustlikeI’mgoingtodoherpussyinafewminutes.I’mnot

goingtocomeinhermouth.Mywomanwillalwayscomefirst.ButIwanttogiveherthefullface-
fuckexperience.“Putyourhandsbehindyourback,MissHatcher,”Isayinalow,roughgrowl.“And
don’tmovethemunlessItellyouto.”

Shelooksupatme,hereyesalreadywateringwiththestrainofobeying,butshedoesasIaskas

sheleansforward,practicallybeggingformore.

Igiveittoher.Hard.Andfast.Shegagsandspits,hersalivadrippingoutofhermouthandover

thecurveofherchin.Andshenevertakeshereyesoffme.“Youlikethat,Ellie?Youfuckingslut.
Playwithyourpussy,”Isay.“Onehandonly,keeptheotherbehindyourback,anddonotstopuntil
youcome.”

Herfingersarebetweenherlegs,rubbingherclitinfast,franticcircles,beforeI’mevendone

talking.“Putyourfingersinsideyourself,Ellie.Showmehowyoulikeit.”

Shepressesagainstherpussy,adjustingherlegsuntiltheyareopenwideandIhavetheperfect

viewofeverythingshe’sdoing.

“Come,”Isay.
Shemoanswithherrelease,myhipsstillpumping,fuckingherface,dickstillinhermouth.The

soundthrums,vibrates,tantalizingthetipofmyheaduntilIalmostforgetandshootmycomedown
heropenthroat.

Ipullbackjustintime.Ellieisgaspingforair.Herfaceisamess,hermakeupsmeareddownher

cheeks,herchinjustaswetasherpussy.

“Iwanttolickyousobadrightnow.”Idon’tgiveherachancetorecoverorrespond,justreach

down,liftherup,twirlheraround,andpushherforwarduntilshehastobendoverthebedandplace
herhandsonthemattresstosteadyherself.

Ibenddown,myhandpumpingmydickinlong,faststrokes.AndthenIreleasetheholdand

flattenmyhandsonherasscheeks,spreadingthemasIplacemymouthoverherpussyandsuck.

“Oh,shit,Mac,”shesays.Herlegstremblewiththeeffortofholdingherselfup,butIdon’tstop.I

flickmytongueagainstherclit,inserttwofingersinherpussyandoneinherass,andthenpumpher
untilshecomesagain.Writhing,andtwisting,andfallingforward,utterlyunabletokeepherself
upright.

“Tellmenow,Ellie.It’snotsohardwhenyouwantsobad,isit?Tellmewhatyouwantmetodo.”
“Fuckme,”shesays.“Putyourcockinmypussyandfuckmeuntilyoucan’t.”
Iamtheonemoaningthistime.I’msofuckingreadytospill,Idon’tevenbotherwithacondom.

Justpresstheheadofmydickagainstheropening,grabherbythehips,andgiveherexactlywhatshe
wants.

Shecomesathirdtime,almostimmediately.AndeventhoughI’dliketofuckherlikethisuntil

morning,Iwanttocomealloverherfaceevenmore.

Ipullback,flipherover,herbreastsheavingwithherheavybreathing.Herlegsopen.Hereyes

closed.AndthenIgrabherbytheshoulders,placeherinfrontofmeandshootmycomealloverher
lips.

ChapterThirty-Ellie

Iamspent.Macpicksmeupandcarriesmeintothebathroom,settingmedownonthecounter.

“Thatwasfun,”Isay,blushinglikethere’snotomorrow,becausemyfaceishotashell.Andsticky.
Hesmilesatme,hisdickstillsemi-hardandwavingintheairashemovesacrossthebathroomto
findawashcloth.

I’mstillsofuckinghorny.
“Holdstill,MissHatcher.Letmecleanthatupforyou.”
Heturnsonthehotwaterandwetsthewashcloth,adjustingthetemperatureandsqueezingoutthe

excesswaterbeforebringingituptomyfaceandwashingmegently.Hedoesitagain,usinganew
washcloth,butthistimehestrokesmetenderlywithit.Undermyeyes,cleaningupmysmeared
makeup.Downmycheeks,mychin,myneck.Heuseshislegstoforcemineopen,thenplacesthe
warmclothbetweenthem,cuppingmypussybeforetossingbothwashclothsontothefloor.

“Shower?”heasks.
“Forsure,”Isayback.
“Thenbed?”heasks.
“Thenmore?”Iaskback.
Icatchaslygrinspreadingacrosshisface.“Iwillneversaynotomore,MissHatcher.”
Hegetseverythingready,thenhetakesmyhandandleadsmeintotheshower,placingmeunder

thewidestreamofwaterpouringoutfromtheceiling.Hesquirtssomeshampoointohispalmand
beginstowashmyhair,carefultogeteverystrand.Ireachforthesoapandbegincaressinghimwith
it.Hisperfectchest.Hisperfectshoulders.Hisperfecthips,andofcourse,hiscock.

That’sallittakestohavehimliftmeup,pressmeagainstthewhitemarbletiles,andfuckme

againstthewall.Iknowwe’renotusingcondoms,andhecomesinsideme,butI’monthepillandwe
cantalkaboutthatlaterifhewants.I’msurehethinksofmeasfartooorganizedandefficienttonot
be.

Afterwe’respent—again—andclean,hewrapsmeinawhiterobeandleadsmetobed.
Iletitfalltothefloorandthencrawlwherehe’sopenedupthecoversforme.
Hemightnotthinkhe’sperfect.Obviouslythatwashispointbyhavingmehuntforhiminhis

house.

Butrightnow,Ido.IthinkMcAllisterStonewallisaboutasperfectasamancanget.

Thatisourweekend.Sex,andfood,andshowers,andmoresex.Moretalking,butnotalotofthe

seriousstuff.Mostlyjustthefunstuff.Whatweliketodo.Music.Wherewe’dtaketheperfect
vacation.Thingshedidn’tknowaboutmefromthatmessagestreamwithhisbrother.Thatmakesit
allreal.BeforethisweekendIwasjustagirlontextmessagewholikedtofuckhimatwork.But
now…Ifeellikewereallyknoweachother.Likewe’reonourwaytosomethingnew.Arelationship,
andnotonethatisdelusional.

We’rereal.

“Hey,”Macsays,leaningintomyear.“Igottagointotheofficeearly,Ellie.Youcansleepinif

youwant.”

“Oh,myGod,whattimeisit?”
“Fivethirty.”
“That’sjustwrong.FivethirtyonMonday?Why?”
“My…father ’smeeting,remember?Hescheduleditearly.”
Iopenmyeyes,instantlyawake.“Doesheneedmethere?”
Maclaughsandkissesmeonthecheek.“No,justme.It’sallaboutme.You’recomingintoday

though,right?Don’tletthatbitchEllenfuckupyourcareer,Ellie.Don’tletherwin.”

WetalkedaboutthisatlengththisweekendandthereisacertaindrawtoStonewallSenior ’soffer.

Parttime.Delegate,hesaid.Ithinkthatmightbetheperfectanswerforme.Somuchaboutthis
weekendhasturnedoutperfect.Andtothink,FridayafternoonIfeltlikeIwasinatailspin.Thevideo.
Jesus,howembarrassing.ButMacmadealotofgoodpointsthattalkedmedownfromtheledge
aboutthat.One,we’rehotasfuckonthatvideo.AndI’mnotevennaked.Iwasstillwearingmydress.
Ipersonallydon’tthinkthatmakesupforthefactthatmyasswasunzippedforthatfuck,butIdohave
toagree.Itwashot.

Two,hardlyanyonesawit.WewentthroughallthebuildingswithTVandMacevencalledtech

supporttoseewhichonesgotthestream.AnditwasonlytheAtrium.Mingalreadysaiditwasonly
upfortwominutes.Sodespitethefactthateveryoneknowsaboutit,noteveryonesawit.

Three—andthisonewasjustme,althoughI’mguessingMacmightbethinkingsomethingsimilar

—everygirlatthatcompanyisprobablywishingshewasme.BecauseMcAllisterStonewallisa
catch.Forreal.Hell,ifIsawsomeoneelsegettingfuckedthewayIwas,I’dbewishingthatwasme.

Sothisismyjustificationfornotrunningawaythismorning.Forsuckingitupandgoinginto

work.MaybeIcannegotiateawork-from-homedealwithStonewallSenior?Weirderthingshave
happened.Justlookatmylifethesepasttwoweeks.

“I’llbein,”ItellMac.“Idon’thaveanyoneflyinginuntileightthirty.SoI’llbeinatmynormal

time.”

“OK,”hesays,givingmeanotherkiss.“I’mlate,soIgottago.Seeyoulater.”
HepullsbackandIrolloverandwatchhimashewalksoutofthebedroom.Lazilythinkingabout

everything.Thishouse,forone.Howemptyitis.Macsayshejustmovedinanddidn’tbringanything
withhimbutafewsuits.He’shavingstuffdeliveredthisweek.Somemorepersonalthingsthathehas
athishousein…well,heneveractuallysaid.Ididaskhimafewtimesbutsomehowweendedup
talkingaboutsomethingelse.

Hmmm.
I’llhavetoaskthatagainlaterwhenwehavelunch.
Wetalkedallaboutme,butmostofitheknows.I’mnotarollingstone.I’vebeengatheringmoss

atStonewallEntertainmentsincecollege.Sothatwasn’tallthatinteresting.Buthedidmentionhe’s
beentravelingalot.

Isitupandponderthis.
Cometothinkaboutit,henevermentionedwherehedidallthattravelingeither.Iliebackandtry

togetsomemoresleep,butMac’slackofdisclosureistroubling.DidIlethimleadmeallweekend?
Washedoingitonpurpose?Orwerewejustcaughtupineachotherandwefoundourselvesoffon
tangents?That’slikely.That’showitiswhenyoumeetsomeonenew.Someoneyoulike.Someone
you’rereallyinterestedin.Whenyoustartthinkingthismightleadtosomethingmore,youwantto

heareverythingandyougetsidetracked.Goingdownroadsyouneverknewyouwantedtotravel
becauseit’sallsoshinyandnew.

Isighandacceptthatlineofthinking.
ButIcan’tseemtogetitoutofmymind.Itossandturn,andbeforeIknowit,it’salmostsix,so

there’snohopeofsleepifIwanttotakeashowerbeforework.

MacandItookalotofshowersthisweekend.Theshowersexcalledtousmultipletimes.SoI

don’treallyneedone.Hefuckedmeagainstthewet,tiledwalllessthaneighthoursago.

I’mstillsnickeringatthatthoughtwhenmyphonebuzzesonthesidetable.
IreachoverandcheckthecallerID.It’swork,butnotanyonewhohascalledmebeforebecauseit

justcomesupasStonewallEntertainment.“Hello?”

“Ellie?ThisisStephanie,Mac’sassistant.I’msosorry.”Shegiggles.“Hemademecallyou

becausehe’sinameetingwithStonewallSenior.Macsaidhelefthisphoneinhishomeofficeand
couldyoupleasebringittohimwhenyoucomein?”

“Jesus,waytobediscreet,Mac.”
“Iknow,”Stephaniesays,stillamused.“Butifit’sanyconsolation,Ithinkit’sgreat.Youtwoare

verycutetogether.”

“Thanks,”Isay,pleasedthatmyrationalefornotlettingthatvideogettomeispanningout.“Tell

himI’llgetreadyandberightover.”

“Surething,”Stephaniesays.“Seeyouthen.”
Iendthecallandthrowthecoversoff.Wherethehellisthehomeoffice?Idecidetogetdressed

first,thengosearchingforthatlittlehiddencornerofthisrooftopmansion.Ihavenoideahowbig
thisplaceis,buttherearesixbedrooms,tenbathrooms,andobviouslyanofficeIneverdidsee.

Ionlyhavejeanswithme,sothat’sgoingtohavetodoforwork.Ireallydidn’texpecttostayhere

lastnight,butIsodidn’twanttoleave.Ididn’tbringworkclothesoveronFriday.Thethoughtthat
thisweekendwouldbesogreatneverenteredmymind.

Iwashupinthebathroomandputonalittlebitofmakeup.Justenoughtomakemelookfresh-

faced.AndthenIpullmyjeanson,gointoMac’sclosetandfindaworkshirtIcanthrowonovermy
tanktop.IchoosetheonlycleanonehangingintheclosetandtieitinalittleknotatmywaistasIfind
mywaybackouttothemainlivingroomwhereIleftmyshoeswhenIcameinonFriday.

Thatrug,Jesus.IwillhavetohintaroundtoMacthatweshouldreallyhavesexonit.Iblushatthe

thought.Whathashedonetome?

Idon’tknow,butIlikeit.IthinkEllieHatcher,onehalfofEloiseandMcAllister,iswaymore

interestingthanplainolddelusionalEllieHatcher,celebritycoordinator.

“OK,”IsayasIstuffmyphoneinmypurseandhikeituponmyshoulder.“Nowtofindthe

office.”IwanderdownthehallwaywherethewaterfallwallisandwhenIgettotheendIturnleft
insteadofright.Ihaven’tbeendownthishallwaysothere’sagoodchancethere’sanofficehere
somewhere.

I’mright,afterbeingwrongfourtimes.Ifindasittingroom,amancavecompletewithair

hockeytable,abathroomIdidn’tknowabout—somaybethatmakeseleven—andalittlereading
nook.

TheofficeisthelastroomIcometo,naturally,andit’sdecoratedinalightmodernstyle,justlike

therestofthisplace.There’ssomepaperwork,somepensinacrystalholder,andMac’sphoneonthe
desk.Igrabitandturnbacktoleave,butitbuzzesinmyhand.

Ilookdownatthescreen,thinkingit’sMac,butthecallercomesupasMr.Romantic.
Mr.Romantic?Whatthehellisthatabout?
Iignoreitandtossitintomypurse,butthere’savoicecallingout.
“Mac?”itsays.“Mac?Whatthefuck,dude?”

IfishthephoneoutandrealizeImust’vetabbedthecallacceptbutton,andplaceittomyear.

“Hello?”

“Uh,”theguysaysontheotherline.“You’renotMac.”
“No,I’mEllie.Sorry,Ididn’tmeantoanswerthephone.ButImust’vebumpedthecallbuttonby

mistake.HelefthisphoneathomeandI’mbringingittohim.”

“Ellie?”hesays,halfquestion,halfnot.“Sohefoundyou,huh?”
“Foundme?”
“Yeah,ItalkedtohimlastweekafterIcamehomefromVegas.IsawAndrewMancoandforsome

reasonMacthoughtyouwerewithAndrewthatnight.”

“Oh,yeah.”Ilaugh.“Itwasamixup.Doyouwantmetotakeamessage?”
“Yeah,justtellhimtogiveMr.Corporateacallwhenhehasachance.”
“Mr.Corporate?”Iask.
“Mr.PerfectwillknowwhatI’mtalkingabout.Thanksabunch,sweetheart.Later.”
Andthenthecalldrops.Ijuststareatitforamoment.
Mr.Romantic?Mr.Corporate?Mr.Perfect?Whatthehellisupwiththesenames?
Istandthereforamoment.Completelystill.
BecauseI’mhavinganidea.Averybadidea,butanideanonetheless.
Ihavehisphone.
IbetIcouldfindoutabunchofstuffabouthimifIjusttookalittlepeekinside….
No,Ellie.Thatvoiceinmyheadisverystrong.
Butthenthere’sanothervoice.Onethatsays,HelookedatallthosemessagesyousentHeath.
Hediddothat,didn’the?I’malmostobligatedtotakeapeek.Afterall,itwastotallyunfairthathe

gottosnooparoundmyprivatelife.Readallthosepersonalthoughts.Andeventhoughwespentthe
wholeweekendtogether,Ikeepthinkingthathereallydidn’ttellmemuchabouthimself.Sure,that
scavengerhuntgavemesomeinsight.Butalotofitwasveryesoteric,wasn’tit?Veryphilosophical
andvague.LikeLawNumber46.Neverappeartooperfect.Whatthehellisthatabout?

AndMr.Romantic,whoeverheis,justcalledMacMr.Perfect.
Ilookovermyshoulder,outofhabit.BecauseIamgoingtolook.Justatthecontacts.Seeif

there’sanymorehintstothisMr.Perfectstuff.Itsoundsfamiliartomeforsomereason.MaybeMac
mentioneditbefore?DidheeversayMr.Romantictome?No,Idon’tthinkso.

MyfingerstabthescreentolifeandI’mpressingthelittlecontactsiconbeforeIcanstop.
TheyallpopupandIstartscrollingdowntotheM’s.ButHeath’snamecatchesmyeye.
Heath.Didtheytalkaboutme?
Igotothemessagesandstopbreathing.
Yes.Yes,theydid.MynameisrightthereinthelastoneMacsent.

Mr.Perfect:Ifyou’renotbangingEllieHatcher,thenI’llgiveitatry.Shelookstotally

corruptible.

It’sdatedtheveryfirstdaywemet.Thatdaywhenhehumiliatedmeintheexecutiveconference

room.

Ihavetowalkbackovertothedeskandtakeaseatbecausemylegssuddenlyfeelveryweak.My

stomachhasthathollowfeelingIsometimesget.Likeapunchtothegut.Andmyheart.

Putitaway,Ellie.Therearethingsyoudon’tneedtoknow.
It’strue.Ievenagree.Butthentherearethingsyoudoneedtoknow.Andthisisoneofthem.SoI

scrolluptotheveryfirstmessagethatday.

Mr.Perfect:WhatthefuckisgoingonwiththesemessagesfromEllie?Firstshe’saskingyouto

fuckherandthenshe’stalkingthisdelusionalbullshitaboutpuppiesanddreamhouses.

Heath:Whatthehellareyoutalkingabout?Dreamhouses?IfuckedEllieafewtimes,butthatwas

onlybecauseshewantedit.Stayawayfromherthough,she’scrazy.

Mr.Perfect:Yeah,noshit.She’ssendingyouPinterestboardsfilledwithwhatyourfuturekids

wouldlooklike.

Heath:What?Idon’tknowwhattosaytothat.Neversawthatshit.
Mr.Perfect:Yeah,dude.CrazywithacapitalC.I’mnotsureifIshouldcallsecurityandhaveher

escortedoffthepremisesorseeifshe’llfuckmeinthestairs.Isshecute?

There’sabreakintheconversation.Severalhours.ThenMacisback.

Mr.Perfect:There’stwoEllies,youasshole!
Heath:EllieAbraham?Andwhoelse?

Oh,myGod.Iwasn’tevenonhisradar,wasI?NotthatIcare.I’moveranydelusionalfeelsI

might’vehaveconjuredupforHeath.ButMac.God,whatisthis?

Mr.Perfect:EllieHatcher,youdumbass.Ijustfeltherupinthestairsaftershepulledthis

completelyridiculousstuntinameeting.Holyfuck,man,youmissedsomethingsupremelyepic.

Heath:See,aren’tyougladIfuckedupandgotsentofftoChina.Toldyouthatplacewasfun.At

leastyoudidn’tfuckwithEllenAbraham.AndnoonecallsherEllie,sheusesthatnicknamebecause
she’sgotthisweirdobsessionwithEllieHatcher.Likehateshergutsorsomething.

Well,thatexplainswhyshetriedtoruinmylifelastweek.IhavenoideawhatIeverdidtoher.I’m

nicetoeveryone.It’spracticallymyjobtobenicetoeveryone.Well,totheirface,anyway.Ididmake
upnicknamesforallmyco-workers,butthatwasprivate.Theydidn’tknowaboutit.

Mr.Perfect:Ifyou’renotbangingEllieHatcher,thenI’llgiveitatry.Shelookstotally

corruptible.

Myworldgoescompletelystill,thesilencepouringinmyearstothebeatofmyheart.Ididnot

justreadthat.Ishakemyhead—no.It’snothing.Hewaskidding.Hedidn’tknowmebackthen.Itwas
justguysbeingguys.

Andwhilecalm,rationalEllieknowsallthat,Ialsoknowthatfirstimpressionsareeverything.

Thisishisfirstimpressionofme.

Hiswordscomebacktomefromthatfirstday.Thisiscompletelyridiculousbehavior,Miss

Hatcher.Myofficenow.

Ridiculous.
That’swhyhethinksofme.I’mridiculous.Completelyridiculous.AndhethoughtIwasEllen

Abrahamthatdayinthestairs.Inthemeetingtoo,hemust’ve.

Idon’tknowwhattodowiththisinformation.Ifeelslightlystupid,morethanalittlebitbetrayed,

andnaiveforbuyingintoMac’sversionofdating.

Isthisdating?Evenbyhisstandards?
MyphonebuzzesinmypurseandmyheartskipsabeatthinkingthismightbeMacandIwillhave

toconfronthim.

Butit’snot.It’sMing.Itabtheacceptbuttonandsay,“Hello?”

“Ellie,”Mingsays,veryoutofbreath.“OhmyGod,whereareyou?Whatshedidissofucked

up!”

Igetasinkingfeelinginmygut.“Who?”
“Ellen!”
Ihavetoclosemyeyesandplacemyhandonthedesk,likeI’mpreparingforablowtothe

stomach.“Whathappenednow?”

“I’msosorry,Ellie.”
“Justtellme,Ming.”
“She…”Minghesitatesagain.“Shesentoutanewsletter,Ellie,and—”
“How?Shewasfiredlastweek!”
“Idon’tknow,”Mingsays.“Maybeshehaditmadeandscheduledtodeliverthismorning.Butit’s

allaboutyouandthePinterestboardfortheemployees.Screenshotsandallthenicknamesyouhave
forpeople.”

Ipressendonthecall,butassoonasIdothat,Maciscalling.
Iturnthephoneoff.
Macprobablywantstowarnmeaboutthenewsletter,butthat’snotwhyI’mthinkingaboutright

now.I’mthinkingaboutthatlastsentencehewrotetoHeath.

Ifyou’renotbangingEllieHatcher,thenI’llgiveitatry.Shelookstotallycorruptible.
ThatistheonlythingIcareaboutrightnow.He’llgiveitatry.Sure,whynot?Somestupid

twenty-somethingatyourfather ’scompanyiswillingtoletherselfbefingeredinastairwell?Sure.
Macisamanusedtogettingeverythinghewants.Mr.Perfect.

Thenthepreviouscallfromhisfriendcomesbacktome.Mr.Perfect,Mr.Romantic,Mr.

Corporate.Whydoesallthatsoundfamiliar?

ItypeinthethreenamesasIstandinfrontofthecomputer.
Mac’sfacecomesupimmediately.Tonsandtonsofpicturesofhim,onlyhisnameisnot

McAllisterStonewall.Iclickonthefirstimageandanarticlepopsup.Thecaptionunderthepicture
says,MacleanCallister,AKAMr.Perfect,andNolanDelaney,AKAMr.Romantic,celebratethe
droppedchargesintheMr.Brownrapecase.

MylegsaresowobblyIneedtotakeaseatintheluxuriousleatherchair.
TheMr.Brownrapecase.
I’veheardofit,ofcourse.Itwasalloverthenewsawhileback.Tenyearsago,atleast.Backwhen

Iwasgettingreadytograduatehighschool.

IstudythepictureofMacalittlebetter.He’ssmiling.Soishisfriend,NolanDelaney,whoI

concludewasthevoiceontheotherendofthephonecallIjusttook.Butneitherofthemlookhappy
andneitherofthemlookliketheyarecelebrating.

Iclickthroughmorepicturesandseethemall.Mr.Perfect,Mr.Romantic,Mr.Corporate,Mr.

Mysterious,andMr.Match.Theyareallwell-bredchildrenfromwell-connectedfamilieswhoare
richbeyondbelief.

Iskimthearticletorefreshmymemory.Fivecollegeboys,onecollegegirl,andarapecharge.I

understandthebasicsofwhathappened.Thenightstartedwithahomecomingpartyatthehousethe
boyssharedandendedwithonegirlclaimingshewasgang-raped.

Thenewspapersweren’tallowedtoreportthenamesoftheboysuntiltheywereofficially

charged,sotheygavethemmonikersuntilthathappened.TheycalledthemtheMistersofBrown
University,orMr.Brownsforshort.Andtheneachboygothisownnicknamebasedonhowfriends
oncampusdescribedthemtothemedia.

Oncetheboyswereofficiallycharged,theywereexpelledandtheirrealnamesdivulged.
Thepre-trialmediacoveragelastedforwelloverayearandthenabruptlystoppedwhenthegirl

wasfounddeadinherhometown,somesevenhundredmilesaway.

Theprosecutorswereforcedtodropthecharges.
NoonethoughttheMisterswereinnocent,notforasecond.Infact,therewasanoutcrytocharge

themallwithmurderaswell.Theywereblamedforthegirl’sdeatheventhoughallfiveofthemhad
rock-solidalibisforthatincident.

It’saconvolutedstory,butIcanfollowit.WhatIcannotfollowishowMacleanCallisterbecame

McAllisterStonewall.AndwhatI’mhavingahardtimeunderstandingisMac’sangeratmyteeny,tiny
lielastweekwhenhe’sbeenholdingbackthisbombshellofanexplosion.

Somewhereinthehouseaphoneisringing.
Somewhereinmyself,myheartisbreaking.
IsMacguilty?Didheslipaway?Didhisrealfather—becauseobviouslyMr.Stonewallisn’this

father—paysomeoneoff?Didtheyhaveanythingtodowiththegirl’sdeath?

Idon’tknowhowlongIsittherebeforeavoicecallsmynamefromanotherpartofthehouse.
“MissHatcher?”IrecognizeGeorgethedoorman’svoice.
“Inhere,”Icallback.
AfewsecondslaterGeorgefindsme.“Oh,MissHatcher,Mr.Stonewallcalledaskingmeifyou’d

leftyet.HesentmeupheretolookforyouwhenItoldhimno.”Georgestaresatmeforamoment.
“IseverythingOK?”

Inodoutofhabit,butI’mnotsureeverythingisOK.Infact,findingoutyourboyfriendwas

accusedofrapeandmightpossiblyberesponsibleformurdermakesthingsdecidedlynotOK.“Iwas
justlookingforMac’sphone.Heaskedmetobringitintoworkforhim.”Iholdupthephoneand
stand.“Ibettergetgoing.Ithinkheneedsit.”

“OK,MissHatcher,”Georgesays.“Wehaveyourcardownstairswaitingforyou.”
“I’llberightdown,”Itellhim.ThereisnowayI’mgettinginanelevatorsoIcanbeforcedto

chit-chatmywaydowntothegroundlevel.

IwaituntilIhearthefrontdoorcloseandthenItrytoputmythoughtstogether.Wasthat

scavengerhuntMac’swayofpreparingmeforthetruth?

Ifeelsomanipulated.AndthattexttoHeath.Ijustfeel…used.
I’msurethere’sawaytojustifyit.Perceptioniseverything.AndifMaccanpreparemewithhis

sympatheticpointofviewbeforeIlearnthetruth,thenhecancontrolmyreactions.

Itreeksofpower.Ofwhatobsceneamountsofmoneymeanstothosewhoholdit.
Moneydoesn’tbuythings.
Moneybuyspeople.

ChapterThirty-One-Ellie

Iturnthecomputeroff,tossMac’sphoneinmypurse,andheaddowntothelobby.
GeorgeistalkingtosomeoneatthefrontdeskwhenIwalkbrisklypasthimtothefrontdoors,but

I’msecretlygladIdidn’thavetohaveaconversation.Ijusthandthevaletatipandgetinmycar,
takingadeepsightobebackonfamiliarground.

Whatjusthappened?
I’mnotsure.Idon’ttrustmyselftospeak.Idon’ttrustanythingrightnow.
Itonlytakesmeafewminutestowindmywayaroundtheelaboratelylandscapedroadsofthe

TechCenterandgetthroughthegatesoftheStonewallcampus,andafewmoreminutestonavigateto
theAtriumparkinglot,getoutofmycar,andbestandingatthefrontdoorsofthebuilding.

Itakeadeepbreathandstepforward,triggeringtheautomaticdoors.Thewaterfallsoundsremind

meofMac’sapartmentandIhaveapanginmystomachforthelossofsomethingfamiliarand
soothing.

Iforceitawaybecauseit’ssomekindoffalsememory.Afabrication.That’snothisapartment

becausehisnameisn’tMcAllisterStonewall.

PeoplepointandlaughatmeasIenterthelobby.Snickeringbehindhandscuppedoversmiles.

Thenewsletter.Ellensentoutthatnewsletter.

Ishouldfeelembarrassed.Ashamed.ButIdon’thavetimeforthatstupidsillinessrightnow.My

feetonlyhaveonestopinmind.Iwaitattheelevator,alone,andstepthroughtheglassdoors,seeing
thepeopledownbelowasIascend,butnotregisteringthem.

Ibracemyselfforthedirtylooksandthecontemptforwhatwassaidonmybehalfinthe

newsletter.Thesepeopleweremytargets,afterall.I’mnotsureanyonedownbelowcarestoomuch
aboutwhatIprivatelythinkabouttheseventh-floorexecutives.

WhenthedoorsopenIstarestraightatStephanie,willingmyselftobeinvisibleasImakemyway

tothebackcorneroffices.Myluckdoesn’thold.Jenniferslidesintostepbesideme.

“Ellie,”shesayscautiously.IpictureallthetimesIcalledherJenniferSluts-aroundonthat

Pinterestboard.“AreyouOK?”

Iglanceoveratherwithoutstopping.“AmIOK?”Ihavetolaughatthat.
“I’msosorrythatEllengotyourphone.”
“Myphone?”Isay,mystepsslowing.“Whatdoyoumean?”
“ShegotintoyourphoneonFridaybeforeIcollecteditfromyouroffice.I’msosorry.She’san

evilbitch.Thevideo,thephone,thetexts—”Ialmostdiehearingthat.“ThePinterestboard.The
newsletter.I’mjustsorry.”

Well,mylifehereisover.I’vebeenhumiliatedoneveryfront.“Ithoughtyou’dbemad.”
“Mad?”Jenniferasks.“WhywouldIbemad?”
“IcalledyouJenniferSluts-Around.”
Jenniferlaughs,shakingherhead.“Iknow,thatwashilarious!”
“Hilarious?”I’mconfused.
“Thosenicknameswereadorable.Oh,myGod,welaughedsohardthismorning,Macand

StonewallSeniorcameoutoftheirmeetingtoseewhatthenoisewasallabout.Younailedit,Ellie.

ThoserantsinthatnewsletterweretheperfectcureforMondaymorning.I’msureEllendiditto
makeyoulookbad,butweallthoughtitwasridiculouslyfunny.”

There’sthatwordagain.Ridiculous.
TheydonotcarethatImadeafoolofmyselfinthatmeetingandgotstuckintheslidetryingto

makemyescape,thatIwasfuckingmybossinmyofficeallweeklongandgotcaughtonvideo,or
thatIhadmade-upnicknamesforallthehigher-upsinthisbuilding.

Theydon’tcarebecausetheyseemeasridiculous.
Iamthetokenditzyblonde.Thegirlassignedtoescortingcelebritiesaroundandsatisfyingtheir

whims.Thegirlwhoworksoutofanairplanehangarandwearssecond-handdesignerclothes.The
girlwhogothiredincollegeandnevermovedup.Sure,theygavemeraises,theygavemetitles…
butI’mstilldoingtheverysamejobIalwaysdid.Iamstilltwenty-year-oldcollegeinternEloise
Hatcher.Aquietgirlwhocanbetrustedwithsecrets,becauseshelivesafictionallifefilledwith
made-uprelationships.

JesusChrist.Ievenwroteabookaboutthoserelationshipsandtriedtosellittoapublisher,for

fuck’ssake.AllthesecelebritiesIpretendtoknowjustbecauseI’vewalkedthemaroundcampusa
fewtimesovertheyears.AlltheworldlywisdomI’vegatheredbystayingputinthesamespotI’ve
beenstandinginforsevenyears.Andallthelife-changingadviceI’vehandedout.

Ibetallthoseagentsandpublishersarelaughingatmetoo.
Iwanttocry.NotbecauseofthethingsthathappenedwithBrutus,orthevideo,orEllen’sstupid

laststandwiththenewsletter.NotevenbecauseIfoundoutMacwasaliar,attheveryleast,and
possiblyarapist/murdereratmost.

IwanttocrybecauseI’majoke.
Istopwalking.
“Ellie?”Jenniferasks,placingahandonmyshoulder.“AreyouOK?”
MacandStonewallSeniorarevisiblethroughtheglasswallsoftheexecutiveconferenceroom.

They’rebothserious.Handsarewavingintheair,mouthsmakingoddshapesthattellmethe
conversation’sheated.Theyarestandingupatthedigitalwhiteboardatthefrontoftheroomgoing
oversomechartoranother.Andit’snotthatIthinktheyaretalkingaboutme.Infact,I’msurethey
arenot.

StonewallseniorknewmyfatherandgavemeajobbackwhenIneededone.Iamjustthislittle

partyfavorleftoverfromsomeby-gonegoodtime.Likeaballoon,orpieceofcandy,orcheaptoy
thatlooksprettyinsidethebrightly-coloredbagoftreatsbuthasnoactualuseoncethepartyisover.

“Ellie?”Jenniferasksagain.
“Whyaren’tyoumadatme,Jennifer?”Iturntofaceher.
“What?”Shelaughs,andthentskshertongue.“Aboutthenickname?Shit,Ellie.Ididmyfair

shareofsluttingaround.It’snotlikeyoumadeitup.Youjustcalleditlikeitis.OnceuponatimeI
wasanofficeslut.Sowhat?Icanappreciatethefunnyinwhatyouwrote.”

“Don’tyoucarethatIdidn’tknowyouwellenoughtoseeyoudifferently?You’vebeenmarried

forawhilenow.It’sbeenyearssinceyoudidanythingremotelyslutty.Don’tyoucarethatIstill
thoughtofyouthatway?”

“Youfoundoutquickenough,didn’tyou?Wegottoknoweachotherprettyfastonceyouwere

moveduphere.HowwouldyouknowwhatIwasupto?Youwerestuckdowninthehangarfor
years.”

Idon’tknowwhattosaytothat.
“Look,”Jennifersays,herhandstillonmyshoulder.“Weallknowthosenamesweremadeup

yearsago.It’sjustsomeharmlessfun.Lettingoffsteam.Imean,Mr.Sowardswasn’ttoocrazyabout
beingcalledMr.Sour-puss,butcomeon!”She’soutrightlaughingnow.“It’sfunnyinaverystupid

way.Nooneismad.”

Ialmostacceptthat.Almost.IfMachadn’tstoodinhisofficetwoweeksagoandtalkedabout

cowsandrowersontheriverthenI’dprobablybeOKwithwhatshejusttoldme.

Buthedid.HesaidthosethingsandIheardthemandtheycannotbeunheard.
Iamscenerytothesepeople.Iamaview.
Iamacarontheroad,oraboatfloatingunderabridge,oralightflickingonandoffontheside

ofabuilding.Noonecaresaboutthedriverinthatcar,orthemanonthatboat,orthecoupleinthat
apartment.Noonecaresbecausetheyarenothingbutaview.

“Ellie!”Maccallsmefromtheconferenceroomdoor.
“He’snotmadeither,”Jennifersays,lookingoveratMac.
Idon’tsayanythingback,justturnandwalktowardstheconferenceroom.MacsmilesatmeasI

approach.“You’veheard,Itakeit?Ellie,don’tletEllengettoyou,OK?Wearegoingtopress
charges.Shewillpayforthis.”

Islippasthimandentertheroom.StonewallSeniorstandsupandholdshishandout.Iextendmy

handtoo,butinsteadofshakingit,heengulfsitintobothofhisastheycuparoundandpress.

It’sawarmgesture.Onethatsaysmorethanwords.AndIappreciateit,Ireallydo.Butit’snot

enoughtotakeawaythisdeep,sinkingfeelingofhurtbubblingupfromwithinme.

“I’m…”Istop,notsurehowmuchIshouldsay,butthenpressonanyway.“Sad.”
“We’regoingtomakeherpay,”Seniorsays.“Don’tworryaboutthat.”
“No,”Isay,shakingmyhead.“I’mnotsadabouther.I’msadaboutme.Ithoughtaboutyouroffer

allweekend,Mr.Stonewall.AndIappreciateit,somuch.Ireallyappreciateeverythingyou’vedone
tohelpme,soIhopeyoudon’ttakethisthewrongway,butI’mleaving.Today.Rightnow,infact.
I’mwalkingoutandI’mnotcomingback.”

“Ellie?”Macsays.“Areyousure?”
“Isitthevideo?”Seniorasks.“I’msosorry—”
“No,”Isay,cuttinghimoff.“No,that’snotit.Ijustwanttobemorethanaview.”IlookMacinthe

eyesforthatlastpart.Hesquintsatme,gettingit,maybe.Ornotgettingit.I’mnotsure.Idon’tcare.
“That’sallIhavetosay.”

Ifisharoundinmypurse,findMac’sphone,placeitontheglasstable,andwalkout.
“Ellie?”Maccallsafterme.IhearhimwhispersomethingtoStonewallSenior,butIdon’tcatch

theactualwords.Afewsecondslaterhe’swalkingnexttomewithhisarmaroundmyshoulder.“Are
youOK?What’sgoingon?”

IgritmyteethandtakeadeepbreathasIlookupathim.He’ssoperfect.Thatsquarejaw,still

slightlyunshaven.Hisbroadshoulders.Justimaginingthemwithouttheprecisely-tailoredshortand
suitcoatmakesmewishthiswasallreal.Andthosecerulean-blueeyes.

Theywanttoclaimme.
Iwantthemtoclaimme.
“Mr.Romanticcalledthismorning.”
Mactakesastepback,histouchgone,thewarmthandtogethernessitimpliedgonewithit.
“AndmaybeIwould’vebeenOKwithwhoyoureallyareifyouhadtoldmefirst.I’mnotsure.

ButI’mnotOKwithhowthetruthunfolded.”

“Ellie,”Macsays,hisexpressionsoftening.“Ididn’tlietoyouonpurpose.Ijustdidn’twantto

comehereasthatguy.Youknow?”

Idoknow.Itotallyknow.Notonebitofthatisunreasonable.“IalsosawyourtextstoHeath.Yes,I

looked.ItwaswrongandI’mabitch.Butyougottoseeinsideme,Mac.Andneveronceduringthe
pasttwoweeksdidIreallygettoseeinsideyou.SoIlookedandIdidn’tlikewhatIsaw.”

“That’snotfair,”hesays.

“Iknow.Butitwasn’twhatIsawinsideyouthatbotheredme.Itwasthewayyousawme.It’sthe

wayeveryonehereseesme.RidiculousEllieHatcher.That’swhoIamhereandIthat’snotwhoIam
inside.I’maseriouspersoninside,Mac.I’msmart,anddriven,andoccasionallyfunny.Iamnota
joketomyself.”

“Ineverthoughtyouwere,Ellie.”
“Youdid.YouthrewmylittlefantasywithHeathinmyfaceeverytimeIpulledback.Youcalledit

delusional,youcalleditcrazy,andyouthinkit’ssilly.ButIdon’tthinkit’ssilly.”

“Heath—”Macsays.
“Idon’twantyourbrother,Mac.ButIlikethatfantasy.Idon’tthinkit’scrazytowanttheperfect

life.Butyou,Mac.You’renotmyMr.Perfect.”

“Hedoesn’texist,”Macsays.
“Oh,hedoes,”IsaybackasItapmyhead.“Heexistsinhere.Andmaybethat’sascloseasI’ll

everget,butwhoareyoutotellmetogiveuponmydream?”

“Ineversaidthat.”
“‘Gethelp,Ellie,’”Isnap.“‘You’redelusional,Ellie.’Well,OK.MaybeIam.MaybeIdoneed

help.ButI’mnotgoingtofindithere.AllI’mgoingtogetfromyouarecalculatedmoves,andhalf-
truths,andaguardedheart.AndI’djustliketopointoutthatyouaretheonewhohasbeenlying.Not
me.YougottoseetherealElliefromdayoneandIneveroncegottoseetherealMac.”

“Ellie,”Macsays,lookingaround.Therearedozensofpeoplewatchingushavethis

conversation.Nooneissmiling.“Let’sgoinmyofficeandtalk,OK?”

Ishakemyheadandturnaway.
“Ellie!”Maccallsafterme.
ButI’vealreadycheckedoutandI’mgoingoutinstyle.Andthistime,whenIgrabthehandleof

theslideandswingmybodyin,thereisnofancyskirttoslowmedown.Thereisnobattlecryof
victory,either,butIsmilethewholewaydown.Andwhenmybodyshootsoutofthetwistedplastic
tubesevenstoriesbelow,Icometoafullstopwithmyfeetplantedfirmlyonthefloor.

Istandupandstraightenmyshirt.
“Ellie!”Macshouts.“Watchout!”ButassoonasIturn,hecomesshootingoutoftheslideand

barrelsintome.

ChapterThirty-Two-Mac

Ispreadmylegs,wildgrinonmyface,asIcrashintoEllie.Shegoesflyingbackwards,butIwrap

myarmsaroundhertightlyandwefalltogetherinstead,melandingsquarelyontopofher.

“AreyouOK?”Iask,checkingtoseeifshehitherhead.
“Whatthehellareyoudoing?”Hereyesareflashingmadandhercheeksflushwithheatonceshe

realizeseveryoneiswatchingus.“Getoffme!”ShesquirmsundermybodyandIshootheracock-
eyedgrin.

“Don’tmovearoundtoomuch,MissHatcher.I’mwarningyou.Thatweekendofsexwejusthad

isstillfreshinmymind.”

Sheclenchesherjawandhersmallfistspoundonmyback,butIjustgrabherwristsandhike

themoverherhead,pinninghertothefloor.“Igettohavemysay,Ellie.You’renotwalkingoutof
herewithhalftheinformation.It’snothappening.Sowecandothistheeasywayorthehardway,but
we’redoingthis.”

“Theeasywayiswithyoustraddlingmybody,holdingmyhandsovermyhead?”sheyells.
“Thatwasjustmywayofgettingyourattention,MissHatcher.”Igetupoffherandextendmy

hand.“I’mhappytodoitlikethisinstead.”

Shelooksup,pastme.Ilookaround,thenup.HundredsoffacespeeroverthesidesoftheAtrium,

allthewayuptotheseventhfloorwhereAlexanderStonewallisoneofthem.Ican’ttellfromthis
distanceifhe’sragingmadorsmiling.

I’mgoingtogowithragingmad,butIdon’tcare.
“Takemyhand,Ellie.Comeon,let’sdothis.”
Shedoes,andIpullheruptoherfeet.Butsheleansinandgrowlsoutherwordspasthergritted

teeth.“Dowhat,Mac?Makeafoolofme?Don’tyouthinkEllenhasdoneenoughofthat?”

“RaiseyourhandifyougiveashitaboutEllenAbraham!”Ishout.EllieandIlookaroundfor

severalseconds.WeevenlookallthewayuptheAtrium,searchingthehundredsofpeopleleaning
overthebalconyrailingsastheywatchus,butnotonehandisraised.

“OK,”Iyellagain.“RaiseyourhandifyoucareaboutEllieHatcher.”HandsstartraisingbeforeI

evenfinishthesentence.“Givemeabig,‘Hell,yeah,’ifyouthinkshe’sadorable.”

Theydon’treallyshoutit.It’skindofunconventionalandI’mjustgettingthemwarmedup.
ButJennifershoutsdownfromtheseventhfloor,“Hell,yeah!”
“Hell,yeah,”someoneelsesaysafewfeetaway.Thenanother,andanother.
“EllieHatcher,wedon’tthinkyou’reridiculous,wethinkyou’readorable.”Morepeopleshout

outinagreement.“Ilikethefactthatyouhavedays-of-the-weekoutfits.IlikeyourM&M-sorting
skills,andhowyoukeepcelebritiesontimeandontheirtoes.Iespeciallylikethefactthatyoualmost
killedarockstartwoweeksago.Ilikethatyounicknamepeople,evenifit’salittleinsulting,andI’m
jealousthatIwasn’tonthatlist.I’mdyingtoknowwhatyou’dcallme.”

Ellieisstartingtolookuncomfortable,likeshehasnointerestinhashingthisoutinfrontofthe

entirepopulationofAtriumemployees.SoIswitchbacktome.

“Look,Ellie,IwasgoingtotellyouthetruthaboutwhoIwas.”Ilookaroundtoeveryonenow.

“Allofyou.Iwasgoingtotellallofyou.Shejustdistractedmethatfirstdayandtookovermylife.”

Ishrug.“WhatcanIsay?Ifellinlovewithherimmediately.”IlookbackandEllieandtakebothher
handsinmine.“ButIhadeveryintentionofcomingclean.SoI’mjustgoingtodothatnow.”

“Mac,look,youdon’towemeanexplanation.”
“Ido,Ellie.You’reright.IsawinsideyouwithoutyourpermissionwhenIreadthosemessages.

AndInevergaveyouthatopportunity.”Itakeadeepbreathanddropherhands,turningtoface
everyoneelse.“I’mnotAlexanderStonewall’sson.”Peoplegaspinsurpriseandthenallthe
whisperingbegins.“MyrealnameisMacleanCallister.PeoplestillcallmeMac,sothathasn't
changed.Andyouprobablyknowmebetterbythemonikerthemediagavemetenyearsago.Mr.
Perfect.”

Ittakesafewseconds,butthewhispersbegin.Therumors,theaccusations,thefinaloutcome.I

hearbitsandpiecesofallofthatasIwait.

IturnbacktoEllie.“I’mMr.PerfectbutI’mdefinitelynotperfect.I’vemadealotofmistakesbutI

didn’trapethatgirlandnotoneofushadanythingtodowithherdeath.I’msorryshediedbecause
herliesliveon.Nomatterwhat,noonewilleverhearheradmitthatshesetmeup.Shesetupmy
friends.Shegotuskickedoutofschool,almostputontrial,andmadeourlivesalivinghellfortwo
years.Noonewantstobelievepeoplearecapableofsuchevil,buttheyare.Allwehavetodoislook
atEllenAbrahamhereatStonewalltoseethiskindofevilplayoutonasmallerscale.”

Ihearmorewhispers.Agreement?Disagreement?I’mnotsure.ButIstartedthissonowIhaveto

finishit.

“Ileftcollegetenyearsagoandneverwentback.Noneofusdid,youknow.Mr.Romanticopened

someclubsoutinSanDiego.Mr.Corporatestartedahigh-levelheadhuntingbusiness.Mr.
Mysterious…well,disappeared,tobehonest.Ihaven’theardfromhiminyears.AndMr.Match
openedadatingservicewithoneofhissisters.Hewasonlyeighteen.Didyouknowthat?Mr.Match’s
lifewasruinedateighteen.Fortwoyearsthiskidsataroundtryingtofigureoutwhatheeverdidto
thatgirl.Wealldid.Twoyears.”

IlookatEllieandtrytoreadherface.It’snotverytelling.She’sholdinghercardsclose.
“Ididn’tdoit.Ididn’tdoanythingbuttakethatgirlonadate,buyherdinner,dropheroffather

apartment,andthengohome.ButI’mtheprivilegedoffspringofaone-percenter.Myfatherisso
rich,heownedfiftypercentofthiscompanyandnooneknewit.Heneversetfootonthiscampus.
Justcollecteddividendseveryyear.Andthisgirlandherpartnerswantedtotakethatprivilegeaway.
Stealitbyanymeansnecessary.”

It’ssad.EverythingaboutthisstoryissadandIhatetalkingaboutit,butIoweElliemorethan

whatI’vebeengivingher.Ioweherthetruth,butbeyondthat,Iowehersomesortofreassurancethat
I’mnotthemonsterthemediaturnedmeinto.

“Theymadeitallup,”Isay.“Allofit.Andthatgirlwasavictim,butnotmyvictim.Shewasthe

victimoftheevilmenwhocameupwiththatplananddecidedshewasnothingbutcollateraldamage.
Idon’tevenblameher.Theypluckedheroutofobscurityandstudentloanhellandmadepromises
thatwerefarbetterthananythingshehadgoingforheratthetime.Biggerthananythingshecould
everimagine.Sono,Idon’tblameherforfallingintotheirtrap.Theyusedherlikeananimal.And
whentheirplanstartedfallingapart,whenImadealltheMisterscometogetherandformaunited
frontagainsttheseboguscharges,whenherhistorystartedbeingthefront-pagenewsinsteadofmy
present—theykilledher.

“Andthenitwasallaboutmeagain,right?NotonlywasIarapist,nowIwasamurderer.Ikilled

her.Wealldid.Somehow.Someway.Nooneknewhowbecausethefiveofuswereallaccountedfor
thenightshedied,soyouknow,mostpeoplewouldsaythatexcludesus.Butwe’rerich.We’re
privileged.Weworkmagicwithmoneyandbuypeopleoff.That’showit’sdone,right?Wehave
power.

“Well,that’strue.Idohavepower.Ihavethepowertodoalotofthings,butclearmynamewasn’t

oneofthem.Idonothavethepowertochangethepublicperceptionofmeormyfriends.Idonot
havethepowertocreategenuinerespectfrompeople.Idonothavethepowertomakepeopletrust
me.”Ipauseandlookaround.Meethundredsofsetsofeyes.Itfeelssogoodtobeabletofinallysay
this.Andtothesepeopleespecially.Peoplewhomattertome.

“ButIdohavethepowertochangetheworld.Tomakeitlesshateful,lessangry,lessdifficult.

Andmaybeifsomeonehadhelpedthatgirl’sfamilyoutwhenshewasyoungershewouldn’thave
fallenintothetrapherco-conspiratorslaid.SoItookmytrustfundandsetouttomakeadifference.
I’vebeengonefortenyears,butIhaven’tbeenhiding.I’vebeenchangingtheworldonefamilyata
timethroughmycharity,ChangetheWorld.Ican’tchangeanythingbig,”Isay.“Ican’tchange
governments,orstopwars,orpreventdraughtorfamine.ButIcantakeonefamilyatatimeand
changetheirfuture.”

Thewhispersgetlouderandtheconfusionandtensioneasesoutofthefaces.
“BecauseIlearnedaveryvaluablelessonfromthewomanwhofalselyaccusedmeofrape.I

learnedthatsomethingassmallasafewwordscanhaveaprofoundimpactonthefutureoffiveboys.
Andifwordscandosomuchdamage,thensurelytherearethingsequallyassmallthatdosomuch
good.AfewdollarsinAfricacanfeedafamilyforaweek.Giveoutamillionofthosedollarstothe
rightpeopleandIjustfedthepopulationofacity.”

“Shit,Mac,”Elliesayswithasigh.“I’msorry.”
Ishrug.“Youdidn’tknow.Nooneknew.Ididn’twanttodogooddeedstoberewardedforthem.I

justwantedtodothemtoprovetomyselfthatnoteveryoneisbad.ThatI’mnotthegreedykidthey
mademeouttobe.AndwhenIfoundoutthatAlexanderneededtoretiretotakecareofhishealth,
andhewantedmetocomeclaimmyfiftypercentinterestinthecompanyandheaduptheNorth
AmericanbranchwhileHeathtookoverthedevelopingmarketinAsiaandCamilleranEurope,well,
Iwasreluctant.WhyshouldIleavebehindwhatIbuiltforthis?ForpeopleIdon'tknowand,more
importantly,peoplewhomightnotneedmeasmuchastheonesI’mwalkingawayfrom?”

IturntotheStonewallemployees.“Icameheretosellit,”Isay,raisingmyarms.“Justsellitoff.I

didn’tseethevalue.NotcomparedtotheworkIwasdoing.ButIwaswrong.”IturntoEllie.“You,
EllieHatcher,havevalue.You’reanexceptionalemployee.AndIknowyouhavebigplansinyour
future,soI’mnotgoingtoaskyoutostay.ButIwantyoutoknowthatIvalueyou.

“IvalueallofyouandifAlexanderstillwantsme,I’min.I’dbehonoredtohelpkeepStonewall

Entertainmentthenumberonecorporationtoworkfor.NotjustAmerica,buttheworld.I’dlovefor
ustochangethefuturetogether.”

ChapterThirty-Three-Ellie

Iamatalossforwords.Mymouthopens,closes,thenopensagain.Ifeellikeafishgaspingfor

air.

“Ellie?”Macisstaringatmewithaworriedlookonhisface.“Ellie?AreyouOK?”
Ilookup.Allthefacesstaringdownatme.StonewallSeniorisupthere.AndJennifer.And

StephanieandMr.Sowards.

“Ellie?What’swrong?Talktome.”
IshakemyheadasIletoutalongbreath.“Ican’t.”Ireallycan’t.SoIjustturnonmyheeland

walkoutthebuilding.Outsideit’sbright,andthemorningsunisbeatingdownontheparkinglot,
makingmeinstantlyfeelmuchtoowarm.IpressafingertomytempleasIheadformycar.

“Ellie!”Macyellsfrombehindme.“Wait!”
Ican’twait.Ican’tdeal.Noneofthismakesanysenseatall.
“Ellie,”Macsays.Hegrabsmyarmhardenoughtopullmetoastop.“Whereareyougoing?

Don’tyouhaveanythingtosay?Nocomment?Notevenashrug?”

Istopbecausehemakesme,butIdon’tturntolookathim.Istaredownatmyfeet.Studythesmall

cracksintheconcreteparkinglot.Countafewstones.

“Goddammit,Ellie.Whatthehellisgoingonwithyou?”
“Youwanttoknow?”Iasksoftly.
“Yes,”hesaysloudly.“I’dreallyliketoknow.”
Iturntohim,willingmyselftobestrong.NottocryorappearanymoreridiculousthanIalready

am.Macissohandsome.Hisface,hisbody,hissuit,hisshoes,hiscar,hisapartment.Everything.“I
thoughtyouweretheoneflounderingandIhaditallfiguredout.ButitturnsoutI’majokeinevery
senseoftheword.”

“What?”Macasks.“Whatdoesthatevenmean?Ellie,you’renotmakingsensetomerightnow.

Whatisthedeal?DoIneedtoconvinceyouI’mnotguiltyofthosecrimestheyaccusedmeof?Or—”

“No,”Isay,puttingupmyhandtostophim.“No.That’snotit,Mac.It’sgotnothingatalltodo

withthoseten-year-oldaccusations,it’sgoteverythingtodowithyourlifesincethen.”

“Idon’tgetit,”Macsays.“Idon’tunderstandwhatyouhateaboutwhatI’vebeendoingwithmy

life,Ellie.JusttellmeandI’llfixit.Whateveritisthat’sbotheringyou,I’llfixit.”

“You’llfixit?”Iask,doingmybesttostifleasmallsnort,butnotentirelysucceeding.“Youcan’t

fixit,Mac.Youcan’tfixitbecauseit’snotaboutyou,it’saboutme.”

“Ellie,”Macsaysagain,butthistimehisvoiceisstern.“Idon’tunderstand.”
“Iknow,”Isay.“Iknowyoudon’t.Howcouldyou?YouareMr.Perfect.Youareaccusedofa

heinouscrimeandinsteadofbowingunder,youtakecontrol.Yousegregateyourselffromsociety
andstartfeedingtheworld.”

“What’ssobadaboutthat?”Heyellsit.Hispatienceisover.“Whatthefuckistheproblemhere?I

thoughtyou’dbeproudofme.Ithoughtyou’dbehappytofinallyfindoutIreallyamagoodguyand
notthisassholeyou’veconjuredupinyourhead.”

“Iamproudofyou,Mac.It’stheperfectturnaround,right?ButI’mgoodatthatconjuring.All

thosedelusionsandpretendbabies.”

“Ellie,juststop,OK?ItoldyouIlikethatpartofyou.”
“Maybe,”Isay.“ButIhateit.”
“What?”
“Ihateit.Andyouknowwhat?Youshouldbeproudthatyou’reMr.Perfect.Youcertainlyearned

thetitle.Doyouknowwhatmybiggestcontributiontosocietyhasbeen,Mac?Buyingdesigner
clothesfromacharityshop.Unlessyoucountfeedingtheegosofcelebritiesworthwhile.Or
pretendingthatI’msomeworld-wisewomanwhocanhelppeoplesortouttheirlifegoals.”Ican’t
containmysnortthistime,itcomesbarrelingoutthroughmynose.“Iamsopatheticallyridiculous.”

“Ellie,”Macsays,hisvoicesofter.Heplaceshishandsonmyshoulders.“It’snotacompetition.

YouandIareindifferentplaces.I’mabletogivethewayIdobecauseofmoneyIinherited.”

IsighandnodmyheadasIstareatmyshoes.“You’reright.We’reintwototallydifferentplaces.

YouhavearrivedandIhaven’tevenstartedmyjourneyyet.”

Iturnawayagainandstartwalkingtomycar.Idon’tlookback,butIknowMacisn’tfollowing

me.Iclickmykeyfob,hopingtoslidebehindthewheelandgetoutofherewithoutanymoretalking.
ButMacdoesn’tgrantmethatlastwish.

“Youknowwhat,EllieHatcher?Iwasrightaboutitallalong.”
Iglancebackathimstandingdowntheaisle,hishandsbyhisside,hisposturestraight,headhigh.

“Aboutwhat?”Iyellback,liftingthelatchonthedoorandpullingitopen.“Me?”

Macshakeshisheadandthenhisshouldersslumpalittle.“Neverappeartooperfect.Law46was

right.Peopledon’tlikeperfect,theymuchpreferfake.”

“Well,”Isay,asadfinallaughpassingmylips,“thenmaybethatlawwasawarningtostayaway

fromme,MacleanCallister.BecauseIinventedthefakeworld,remember?I’mjustanothersignon
thehighwayoflifetellingyoutomovealong.I’mnotwhereyoubelong.I’mnotevenworthstopping
for.”

Igetinmycar,startitup,anddriveaway.
Hedidn’tunderstandanythingIwastryingtosaybackthere.Notonething.AndIcan’tblamehim

becauseI’mnotsurethatIdoeither.AllIknowisthateverythingfeels…wrong.Thisjob,mybook,
thatfakelifeIdreameduptonumbtheemptinessinmyheart.

IfollowthemanicuredlandscapedroadsuntilIgettomyapartmentbuilding.Justanother

reminderofhowlittleI’vebeenlivingsincecollege.HowlittleI’veaccomplished.

Macgetsaccusedofrapeandmurderandhegoesofftofeedtheworldandmakeadifference.
IlandacushyjobatthenumberonecorporationtoworkforinAmericaandendupwriting

delusionaltextmessagestoamanwhohasnointerestinme.

Waytogo,Hatcher.Yourparentswouldbeproud.
Thatmakesmecry.Hard.Tearsbeginstreamingdownmyfaceandinsteadofslowingdownto

turnintomyparkinglot,IkeepgoinguntilIhitthefreeway.Ienteranddriveeast.Thelandscape
changesafterabouttwentyminutes,goingfromsuburbancitytosprawlinghorseproperty,toranch
andfarmland.TwohourslaterIpulloffandfollowalonelytwo-lanehighwaysouthuntiltheroads
turntodirtandthegrazinglandturnstowaist-highcornfields.

Istopthecaratthetopofahillandgetout,thesummerwindblowingmyhairacrossmyfaceasI

turnmybacktothesunandstaredownatthefarmhouseIgrewupin.

It’shalfamileawayfromwhereIstand,butIdon’tneedtobeclosetoittoseewhatIneed.The

sprawlingfrontporch.Thechildrenplayingintheyard.Thedogsrunningaround.Wehadsheepas
wellascornwhenIwasakid.Butthenewownersneverdidraiseanimals.Justcrops.Theyeventore
thebarndownsotheycouldsqueezeeverybitofyieldoutofthatland.

Ilivedhereonmygrandparents’farmwithmydadaftermymomtookoff.Andaftermy

grandparentsdied,wesold.Iwasincollegeanyway.Butitmademesosadtosell.Thiswastheone

placethatfeltlikehome.WhereIcouldbeme.HowlonghaveIbeenlivingmydelusionallife?
LongerthanthosetextmessagestoHeath,that’sforsure.

Ihaven’tbeenmeinaverylongtime.WhydidIstayatStonewallalltheseyears?It’snotthe

careerIeverimaginedformyself.Iminoredinpsychologyforareason.Ihavealwayswantedto
helppeopleandIalwayshadadreamofbeingalifecoach.Gettingtoknowcelebritieswassupposed
tobeasteppingstonebutinsteaditbecameadead-endroad.

I’mgladsomeoneboughtthefarm.Atleastit’snotsittingempty.Atleastit’sgotanewfamily

insidethoserooms.

Andtheylookhappy.
I’mhappyforthem.Iwashappygrowingupthere,that’sforsure.
Iwipethetearsfrommyeyesandgetbackinmycar,myheadrestingonthesteeringwheelfora

fewseconds.IguessthisiswhyIlikemydelusionalworldbetterthanmyreallife.IguessI’mjust
tryingtogetbackthepartofmylifeIleftbehindwhenIleftthisplace.Fillupthatholeinsidemy
chestthatthreatenstocomeouteverytimeIslowdownandhaveafewminutestoreallythinkabout
myownlife.Myownhopesanddreams.

Iamsuchajoke.WhydidIeverthinkIcouldcoachotherpeoplethroughthepitfallsoflifewhen

Ican’tevenfacetherealityofmyownsituation?

Myphoneringsinsidemypurse.Itakeitoutandthenthumbtheaccepttab.“Hey,”Isay.
It’sMing.“Ijustheardwhathappened,Ellie.What’sgoingon?”
IstartcryingandMingdoesherbesttogetitout,piecebypatheticpiece.Isitonthesideofthat

roadandfacethefactsasItellhereverything.AboutallthethingsIwantedoutoflife,andallthe
thingsthatneverhappened.

Minglistenswiththepatientearofabestfriend,offeringmeencouragementandsoftwordsto

easemyhurtfeelings.

“Comeback,”Mingsays.“Youcanstayatmyhouseforawhile.”
“No,”Isay,mybreathstillhitchingfrommysobs.“Ican’t.IneedtofigureoutwhatthehellI’m

doing,Ming.Ineedtocometotermswiththisstuff.Ican’tkeeppretendingthatthingsaregood.
Hell”—Ilaughoutonelastsob—“they’renotevenclosetoOK.”

“Publishyourbook,Ells.Justputituponlinelikewetalkedabout.It’sgood.”
“Howcanitpossiblybegood?”Isay.“How,Ming?Mylifeisamess.Mycareer.Ifyoucould

everevencallitthat,isover.”

“Yourcareerhasn’tevenstartedyet,EloiseHatcher.Thatbookisyourfuture.You’reagoodlife

coach.Don’ttheyalwayssaythat?Thecobbler ’schildrengoshoelessorsomeshitlikethat?Well,
youcanstillfindclarityinthelivesofothers,evenifyoucan’tinyourown.”

“It’sfake,”Isay.“It’sfaketosayIcanhelppeoplewhenIcan’tevenhelpmyself.AndIcan’tdeal

withthisfakelifeanymore.”

“Ellie.”Mingsighs.“Ilikeyourfunnydreamsanddelusions.Everyonedoes.Yourfantasiesmake

peoplehappy.”

“Well,theydon’tmakemehappy,”Iadmit.“Notonebit.”
“Sochangeit,Ells,”Mingsayssoftly.“Comehomeandchangeit.We’lldoittogether.”

ChapterThirty-Four-Mac

AknockonmyofficedoordisruptsmypensivemoodasIgazeoutthewindowatthecows.It’s

snowingtodayandalltheyarearelittleblobsofblackandredonaseaofwhite.“Comein,”Icall
out.

“Mac?”Stephaniesaysfrombehindme.
“Yes,”Isay,stickingmyhandsinthepocketsofmysuittrousers.
“She’soninthreeminutes.”
Inodwithoutturningaround.
“DoyouwantmetoturnyourTVon?We’reallgoingtowatchonthebigTVoutintheAtrium.”
“No,”Isay.“I’llbeoutinaminute.”
Stephanieleaves,closingthedoorquietlybehindher.It’sbeensixlongmonthssinceIsawEllie.

Sixmonthsofwonderinghowtofixthingsandsixmonthsofcomingtotherealizationthatthereare
somethingspeopleneedtodoontheirown.

ReturningtothisofficeafterElliewalkedoutwasmine,Iguess.IwashidingwhenIcamehereas

McAllisterStonewall,Ijustdidn’trealizeit.ButAlexanderhasbeenadearfriendofmineall
growingup.HeathandIreallyarelikebrothers.AndifanyonemessedwithCamilleI’dbethereto
sethimstraightjustlikeanybigbrother.SoIguessIrationalizedit.IcouldstillbeMac,I’djusttake
theStonewalllastnameuntilthecompanywassold.Alexanderneverwantedtosell,hewantedmeto
stepup.AndIguesshegothiswayafterall.Becausethethoughtofwalkingawayfromthisplace
afterEllieleftwastoomuch.Iwantedthejobatthatpoint.

No,Icorrectmyself.Ineededit.Togivemealifelinetoher.Togivemesomehopethatthethings

Iwasbeginningtorealizeaboutmyselfmightnotbetrue.

Theyaretrue.Weretrue.
Iwashiding.FortenyearsIlostmyselfinthecharity.Inphilanthropy.Inthehopesthatitwould

wipeawaythedirtystainleftoverfromcollege.

Theguilt.
Ididn’trapethatgirl.Andifshehadn’taccusedme,andallmyfriends,ofrapingher,I’dprobably

neverevenrememberhername.

Buttheguiltaftershewaskilled.ThatwassomethingIcouldn’tlivewith.
ShewasdeadbecauseofwhoIam.MaybeIdidn’tdoit,butifMacleanCallisterdidn’texistshe

wouldneverhavebeeninvolvedinthatsetup.She’dstillbealiveifIwasneverborn.

Soyeah.Iran.Icanadmitnow,butonlybecauseIknowwhatitfeelsliketobeleftbehind.
WhichiswhyIstayed,Iguess.IpicturedwhatmyfatherprobablywentthroughafterItookoff

andstartedgivingmymoneyawaylikeitwasgrowingontrees.

Ineverneededthemoney.Andgivingitawayisn’tevenmeaningful.Ihavesomanytruststhatare

accruinginterest,andsomematureeveryyearortwo.MyfamilysetmeupthiswaysoI’dneverhave
toworkadayinmylife.

Itwasn’tarisktogiveitaway.NoteveninthedenominationsIwasdealingwith.Becausebarring

somecontinuousfinancialcatastrophe,Ialwaysknewthere’dbemore.

Thephilanthropicworkwassatisfyingforalongtime.Itkindoffeltlikework.Igotupeveryday

andhadphonecalls.Meetings.Madedecisions.

Ijustneverhadtoreporttoanyone.
WhichiswhyIstayedonhereatStonewall.
IreporttoAlexandernow.Isoldhimtwopercentofmyinterestinthecompany,justtogivehim

peaceofmindthattheempirehebuiltwouldneverbethreatenedbythewhimsofanotherpartner.

HeagreedtosellthecompanyifIwantedto,evenafterIsoldmycontrollinginterest.Butbythat

timeIhadfigureditout.

Iwantthis.
Iwantwhathehas.
Afamily.AfreshstartwithsomeoneItrust.
ThingsIhadbeendenyingmyselfeversinceIheardthataccusationbackincollege.
Givingawaymymoneytoself-selectmyselfoutofthecompanyofotherbillionaireswasnever

goingtogetmethat.Itfeelsgood.AndIwillnevergiveupthecharity,buttheydon’tneedmeto
pretendtoworkasIwritechecks.Ineverdidanythingmeaningfulanyway.

Stonewalldoesthough.CamilleissuccessfuloverinEurope.AndHeath,eventhoughIdo

considerhimatotalpigwhenitcomestowomen,ismakingmajorinroadsinChina.He’snotcoming
homeanytimesoon.

SohereIam.CEOofStonewallNorthAmerica.
AndhereIam.Stillalone.
“Mac?”Stephanieyells.“Ellieison!”
I’vehadregularupdatesfromMingaboutEllie.We’vehadastandingFridayeveningappointment

sincetheweekElliewalkedout,butthat’sallbeenaboutbusiness.

Elliestoppedlookingforapublisherforherbook.
Shegotaneweditor.
Shefoundacoverdesigner.
Shegotthebookformatted.
Shefoundaprinter.
Shepushedpublish.
Thatwaslastweek’sreport,sotherearenomoremeetingsaboutEllieHatcher ’sbookrelease

progress.AndIhaven’tdaredtoaskevenonepersonalquestion.IrefusetodiscussEllielikeshe’sa
thingthatneedstobeplannedandplotted.

Buteveryminute—everysecond—ofeveryday,IwishIhad.
Doesshehaveaboyfriend?Doessheevertalkaboutme?Isshehappy?
Iwon’task,butIwantto.Iwon’taskuntilEllieagreestoseeme.Andshehasn’t.I’veaskedherat

leasttwodozentimestomeetmesomewhere.Drinks?Lunch?Dinner?Aweekendatmyhouse?

No.No.No.Hell,no.
Allthatwasintextmessages.Shewon’ttakemycalls.Andshehasn’tansweredatextinovertwo

months.

Faceit,Mac,she’smovedon.Justlikeshewantedto.She’sremadeherlife,herbookisonsale,

andshe’sonlyherefortheinterviewontheTuesdayBookReviewsegmentoftheLivingLifeshow.
Alow-budgetnewsprogramwiththeworstratingsinallofStonewallEntertainment.Theirratings
finallyhittherock-bottomthreshold,andeventhoughIhatetocancelshows,Iwasgoingtohaveto
doitweeksagotosavemoreprosperousshows,butMingsaidthiswastheonlyshowshe’dagreeto.

Ellieandherprinciples.Shewon’ttakepromotionfromme—herexactwordstoMing.Shewon’t

buildacareeroncontactsandfavors.Shedoesn’tcareifsheneversellsasinglecopyofherbook,
shewilldothisherwayornotatall.

Sohereweare.

Shehassoldbooks.Plentyofthem,fromthereportsI’vegotten.SoIguessit’strue,shedidn’t

needme.

“Mac!”Stephanieyellsfromtheothersideofthedoor.“Hurry!You’regoingtomissit!”
ButtodayisthedayIletherknow…Ineedher.

ChapterThirty-Five-Ellie

“Areyounervous?”Mingasks,brushingapieceoflintofftheshoulderofmydress.
“Kindof.WhyamIdoingthis?Ifeelsostupid.”
“EloiseHatcher,”MingsaysinhersternBFFvoice.“Ifyouwerelife-coachingyourselfright

now…”

Istoplistening.She’sbeendoingthattomeformonths.EloiseHatcher!Ifyouwerelife-coaching

yourselfrightnowyou’daskwhyyousetyourselfupforfailure…orwhyyouhavesuchalowopinion
ofwhatyoudo…orwhyyoudon’townthegoodyoudointhisworld.

Iknowallthat.Butthatpsychologydoesn’thelpmuchwhenyouuseitonyourself.
“MaybeIneedalifecoach?”IaskMing.
Shescowlsatme.“Youhaveme,bitch.AndifIhearonemoreexcuseforwhyyoushouldn’town

yoursuccessI’ll…”

I’veheardallthosethreatstoo.She’snotright,though.NotabouthowI’mfeelingrightnow,at

least.Rightnowit’snotdoubt.It’snerves.FrombeingbackhereatStonewallEntertainment.Ming
andJenniferhavetriedtosetmeupwithinterviewsonalltheshowstopromotethebook,butIsaid
no.Ididn’twanttobumpintoMac.Ican’tgothroughanotherroundoftextsandinvitationsfrom
him.IfeellikeI’malmostoverthatwholerelationship.

Relationship.Ha.
Sexcapadeismorelikeit.
ButI’mmovingon.IstraightenoutawrinkleinmydressasKarenandJosedomyintro.
Imisshimthough.Imisshimlikecrazy.AndeventhoughIdidn’twanthimtotextorcall,I

secretlydid.Do.Iwishhe’dnevergivenuponmebecauseIhatethefactthatIwalkedout.

“Withustoday,”Josesays,“isEloiseHatcher,thedebutauthorofTheHappyPlace:FindingYour

OwnWayandLivingtoYourFullPotential.”

Yes,Ichangedthetitle.SeeingStars?Icouldn’tdothat.NotafterImadeallmycelebrityclients

intoanonymouscompositecasestudies.NooneknowsthatChapterSevenisaboutAdelineorthat
ChapterElevenisaboutAndrew.Ididn’twantanycelebritystatusattachedtothebook.

MingsaysIwastryingtosabotagemysuccess,butthat’snotit.
Ijustdon’twantthebooktotakeoffbecauseofnamedropping.That’sall.
“Pleasegiveherawarmwelcome,”Karensays,asbothsheandJosestandtoclap.Thereisa

smallaudience.Andbysmall,Imean,liketwentypeople.It’spatheticallytiny.ButIlikeit,andwhenI
stepoutintothestudioIgivethemalittlewave.

“Eloise,”JosesaysasItakeaseat.“Welcome!”
BothheandKarenhavebeengiddywithexcitementallmorning.Ican’timagineIwilldo

anythingfortheirratings,butblesstheirhearts,theystillbelieveintheirshow.TheStonewallsmust
aswell,becauseit’sbeenrunningforelevenyearsandisalwaysdeadlastwhenthenumberscomein.

“Thankyou,”Isay.“I’msohappytobeherewithyoutoday.”
“Soyoulaunchedabook—”Karenstarts.Andthensheturnstolookattheaudience.“Bytheway,

fulldisclosure.I’veknownEllie,aswecallheraroundhere,foralmosteightyearsnow.Shewasa
partoftheStonewallfamilyuntilrecentlywhenshelefttomakeherownwayintheworld.”

Ismile,butthere’salittlepaininmychest.Somethingakintoloss.Orsadness.Orregret.“Idid,

Karen,andthankyouforthatheartfeltintroduction.I’mthrilledtobeabletosharemyfirstbookwith
youtodayafterworkingonitforseveralyears.”

“Ihearthatthecasestudieswerebasedonrealpeople,isthattrue?”Joseasks.
Inod,butsquintmyeyesathim.Itoldthemnottosayanythingaboutthecelebrityclients.“Yes,

Jose,thatistechnicallytrue.Buttheiridentitieshavebeenhiddenandeachstudyisacompositeof
severalcases.”

“Really?”Karensays.“That’ssointeresting.”
Iforceasmile.“Isit?”Iwanttoslapher.Remindherthatshepromisednottobringitup.“Idon’t

thinkso.Notparticularly.Everyself-helpbookhascasestudies.”

“Yes,”Josesays.“Butyouknowwhat’sfunny,Ellie?”
“No…”Isay,stillforcingthatsmile.“Notreally.”MycheeksmightcrackifIgrinanywider.
“What’sfunny,”avoicesaysbehindme—IwhirlinmychairandAdelinewalksoutintothestudio

adjustinghermic—“isthatyou’dthinkI’dletyougetawaywithcuttingmystarringroleoutofyour
book.”

“Oh,myGod,whatareyoudoinghere?”Ijuststareatmyfriend,bewildered.
“I’mChapterSeven,MissHatcher,theCaseoftheRisk-AverseCreative.”Shelooksstraightatthe

camera,whichhasmaneuveredtogetacloseupofusasshesettlesherselfontothecouchnexttome
withmoredignitythantheQueen.“AndEloiseHatcherhasbeenmyfriendandconfidanteforseven
years.Shewasalwaystherewithadviceandcomfort.AnearforthedetailswheneverIwasasobbing
messoverunfaircontractsandegomaniacalexecutiveswhowereconstantlytryingtotakeadvantage
ofme.EllieHatcher,youchangedmylife.DidyoureallythinkI’dsitthisoutandletyoumakeme
intoanobody?”

“Whataboutme?”AndrewMancosays,jogginguptouslikehemightmisssomething.“She

kickedmybuttbackwhenIwasamess,practicallyenrolledmeincollege,forcedmeintorehab,and
thenwantstopretendsheisn’tdirectlyresponsibleforthesuccessI’mreapingnow?Please,Ellie
Hatcher.Iwouldneverletyousabotageyourowncareerafteryoustoppedmefromsabotaging
mine.”

JoseandKarenarepracticallyclappingwithexcitement.Thewholeaudienceisupontheirfeet.

Neverinamillionyearsdidthesetwentypeoplethinkthey’dmeetAndrewandAdelinewhentheygot
themselvesupandouttotheTechCenterforthisshow.

AfterthatthereisalineofeverycelebrityIusedtowritethebook.Everyoneofthemcomesout

tosingmypraises.Asafriend.Asaconfidante.Asthereasontheyarewheretheyareinlifeatthis
moment.

Icry.
Adelinehugsme,thenholdsmyhandasJoseandKarenhavefunwiththeextraguests.Eachof

themtalksalittlebitabouthowIwasapivotalpartoftheirlives.HowIcameinatjusttherighttime
andhowIsawpastalltheirfaultsandfoundthegood.

It’sareunionIneeded,evenifIdidn’twanttoadmitittomyself.
“We’realmostoutoftime,Ellie.AndIknowyoucameonheretomakeonemoreannouncement.

Sowhatisit?What’sthebignews?”

“Well,”Isay,clearingmythroat.“Iwantedtojusttellpeoplethatiftheyarehavingdoubtsabout

theircareersanddon’tthinktheyarelivinguptotheirfullpotential,theyshouldtrymybook.It’sgot
alotoffantasticmomentsinhere.”Iholdupthepaperback.“Insight,andlaughs,andeventears.And
onehundredpercentoftheprofitsforthisbookwillgotomynewfavoritecharity,Successisfor
Everyone,whichsuppliesfull-ridescholarshipstofirst-generationcollegestudentsallaroundthe
country.”

Idon’thearanythingafterthat.IjustthinkaboutthescholarshipfundIsetupthesepastfew

monthswhiletheothersfinishupandtellviewerswheretobuythebook.Wearestillraisingmoney,
butwealreadyhaveenoughtofundstosendtenstudentsthroughfouryearsofcollege.

MysexcapadewithMacwasn’tacompletewasteafterall.Hetaughtmeavaluablelesson.Giving

backisfarbetterthantakingaway.Ifeltsostupidfordoubtinghisintegrityafterourlastfight.I
lookedupMacleanCallister.Hedoesalotofgoodintheworld.Evenafterpeopletriedveryhardto
hurthim.Triedtoruinhislife.Heturneditaroundandmadesomethinggoodoutofit.Sothat’smy
missionnow.Ifmysuperpoweriscareerguidance,thenwhatbetterwaytocelebratethatthanhelping
youngpeoplefindtheircallingandreachtheiracademicgoals?

AftertheshowendsIstandandchatwithallmyfriends,feelingvery,veryluckytohavesuch

greatpeopleinmylife.

Butstill.Thereisahollownessinsideofme.
AndtenminuteslaterIcan’tbehereanymore.“I’mgoingtogohomenow,Ming.Ihaveatonof

worktodo.”

“Letmetakeyouovertoyourcar,”Mingsays.
“No,”Isay.“Icantakethetrain.Iknowmyway.”IparkedatthehangarsoIdidn’taccidentally

bumpintoMac.“Thankyousomuchforthis,youguys.”Ihugeveryoneandthenmakemyescape
downthestairwelltothetrain.

Idon’trecognizeanyoneridingwithmebacktotheairport,butStonewallisagiantcompany,so

that’snosurprise.Ifeellikeaninterloperthough.LikeeveryoneknowsIdon’tbelonghereanymore.

Strange.Ispentalmostallofmyadultlifeinchargeofpeoplehere.I’veriddenthistrainwith

rockstarsandprofessionalbaseballplayers.I’vechattedwithbusinessmogulsandfour-stargenerals.
I’veguidedhundreds,maybeeventhousandsofpeopletotheirspotlight.

Ihavetocelebratethatrightnow.BecauseifIdon’tforcemyselftofindthegood,thesadwilltake

over.

ImadeamistakewalkingawayfromMac.
MyphonebuzzesinmypurseandIabsentlyfisharoundforitasIwatchacouplegetonthetrain.

Theyarechattingexcitedly,theman’shandlockedinhers.Heleansintohereartosaysomething
private,whichelicitsablushandasmilefromher.

Ilookdownatmyscreenandmyheartskipsabeat.

Mac:ImadeaPinterestboard.Perhapsyou’dliketocheckitout?

Whatthehell?Iclickthelinkinthetextandpause.Ittakesmesolongtocometotermswithwhat

I’mseeing,whenIlookup,thatcoupleisalreadygone.Infact,Imight’vemissedmystop.

TheboardiscalledMac’sDelusionalLoveAffair.
Iactuallylaughoutloud.ThenIcatchmyselfandlookaroundtomakesurenooneheardme.
Therearehundredsofpins.PicturesofthehouseIsenttoHeathlastsummer.Awidefarmhouse

surroundedbyadeepporch.Thegrassisgreen,soit’sgottobeoneofthepicturesIpinnedlastyear.
Izoominandseetherearetwocoffeemugsoutonthecounterwithnamesonthem.Mac,onesays.
Ellie,readstheother.

Therearedozensofpicturesoftheroomsinside,butnotthepicturesIhadonmyboard,which

wasdeletedmonthsago.Newones.Iclickthefirstpicture,whichisactuallyaside-by-sideoftwo
rooms.AnurseryinpinkwithEllieandMac’sBabyGirlstenciledonthewall.Anurseryinbluewith
MacandEllie’sBabyBoystenciledonthewall.Eachoneisperfectlydecoratedwithstuffedanimals,
thecrib,changingtables,evenmatchingrockingchairsinpinkandblue.

Thecaptionbelowreads:Wemightnothaveoneofeach,butit’sneverabadthingtobeprepared.

Whatisthis?
Iclickonthenextpictureandittakesmetoakitchen.Afabulouskitchen.ThenIlookthroughall

ofthem.Roomsandroomsfilledwiththings.Andineachonethereissomethingspecialdisplayed
thatsaysMacandEllie.Framedpictures.Pillows.Andtheofficehastwodesksfacingeachother.
There’saclose-uppictureofthedeskplates.Again,MacandEllie.

Itexthimback.

Ellie:Whatareyoudoing?
Mac:Sharingmydelusionaldreamswithyou.

Ican’thelpit,Ilaughagain.

Ellie:Why?
Mac:Becauseit’sallIhaveleft,Ellie.Justthedreamofallthethingsthatneverhappenedbetween

us,butIdesperatelywishtheyhad.

Ifeelalittletearrundownmycheek.

Mac:Didyouscrolldowntotheend?

Igobacktotheboardandscrolldown.TheverylastpictureisMacstandinginfrontofasold

signintheyardofmydreamhouse.

Holdingapuppy.
AnOldEnglishSheepdogpuppy.

Mac:Didyou?

Iamfullycryingnow.

Ellie:Whatdidyoudo?

MyphonebuzzesandItabtheacceptbutton.“Hello?”
“Iwantthedream,Ellie.Iwantitmorethananything.AndIknowyouwantedtimetogetyour

headstraight.Makeyourownwayintheworld.AndIcouldn’tbemoreproudofyou.ButIcan’tdoit
anymore.Ican’twaitanymore,Ellie.Ineedyoutogetoffthattrainattheairport.BecauseIwillnever
stoptextingyoumydelusionaldreamlifeuntilyou’reapartofit.”

“Mac—”
“Justmeetmeinthehangar.”

ChapterThirty-Six-Mac

EloiseHatcherstepsintothehangarwearingalong,redwoolcoatwithablackbeltthatcinchesat

herwaist.Herknee-highblackbootshideherdeliciouslegs,andtheonlythingonmymindis
whetherornottheyhaveazip-upbackforeasyremoval.

Getittogether,Mac.Thisisyouronlychancetowinherover.Youwillnotfuckhersenselessuntil

shebuysintothedream.

I’mnotsurewhattoexpect,buttheblushandhiddensmileisagoodindicatorthatIdidgood.
Scoutwhimpersandhertailswishesonthedirtyconcretefloor.
Ellieisshakingherheadasshewalkstowardsme,herhandsburieddeepinherpockets,thewind

fromthehelicopteroutonthetarmacgentlytossingherhairaroundherface.

Icannottakemyeyesoffher.Shelooks…incredible.Perfect.
“Who’sthis?”sheasks,noddingherheadtothepuppy,whoishugeforeightmonthsold.
“Scout,”Isay.Atthemerementionofhername,ScoutjumpsupandpawsatEllie,desperately

tryingtolickherface.“Sorry,”Isay.“She’sbeentofiveobedienceschools,but—”Ilaughandthrow
upmyhandsinashrug.“Girlswillbegirls.Onlyobedientwhentheywanttobe.”

Elliebendsdownandletsthedoggiveherkisses.“IhadonejustlikeherwhenIwasakid.”
“Iknow,”Isaysoftly.Ellielooksupatme,hereyesred,likeshe’sbeencrying.God,IhopeI

didn’tdothat.“Iboughtherlastsummerafterwe…Mingtoldme.Youknow,ittookmealongtime
ofwonderingaboutallthosedreamthingsbeforeIfinallyputthepiecestogether.”

Elliestandsupandhugsherarmstightlyaroundherchest.“Look,Iknowitwasridiculousand

delusional.Butitjust—”

“Wasnevermeantforme,”Ifinishforher.“Iknow.ButwhatIneedyoutoknow,EloiseHatcher,

isthatboardImade,filledwithallmyowndelusionaldreams…well,thatwasmeantforyou.”

“Isitreal?”sheasks.
Inodslowly.AndthenIextendmyhand.“Comewithme,MissHatcher.Ihavesomethingtoshow

you.”

SheputsherhandinmineandIleadherandScoutouttowardsthehelicopter.Scoutjumpsinlike

aproandsettlesintheemptyfrontseat,likesheknowsshe’stheco-pilothere.IholdEllie’shandto
keephersteadyassheclimbsinandthengetinafterher,takingamomenttogivethepilotathumbs
upafterIwhooshthedoorclosed.

Iholdherhandtightasweascendandheadeast.Wedon’ttalk.It’stooloud,andwhatIhavetosay

issoft.SoIwaituntilwetouchdownonthehelipadIhadbuiltoutonthesideofthehousejustafterI
purchaseditlastsummer.

Itwasacrazymoveonmypart.Butshewantedthishouse.Thispieceofland.Andthisdog.SoI

gotitallwithhopeinmyheart.Hopethatshewouldforgivemefortreatingherdreamsliketheyare
somethingtobeashamedof.

Islidethedooropenandgivethepilotanotherthumbsup.Scoutwaitsherturnforonce,asIget

outandhelpElliewiththesamesteadyhandthathelpedhergetin.

Iwillbecrushedifsherejectsmetoday,butIwillgiveherthehouseanyway.Iwillgiveherthe

dream,evenifIcan’tbeapartofit.It’sallinhernameanyway.EvenScout’sregistrationpapers.

Weduckintothewindofthehelicopterbladesandthenittakesoffandtheworldgoessuddenly

silent.

Ellielooksoutatthebarnandpasturebeyondthehouse.“Isthat…?”
“Sheep,”Isay,laughingattheabsurdityofit.“Everygoodsheepdogneedssomesheep.She

chasesthehelloutofthemnow,butI’msureshe’llcomearound.”

Ellieletsoutalongbreathofairandthenturnstofaceme.I’mstillholdingonehand,butItake

theotheronetoo.“Eloise,Iloveyou.AndImissedyousobad,itwastorture.SoIconsoledmyself
bytryingtomakeyourdreamscometrue.Idon’twanttodoanyofthiswithoutyou,soifyousayno
toasecondchance,I’llunderstandandit’sallyours.Nohardfeelings.Noresentment.Nodebttobe
paidback.Ijustwantyoutohavethedream.”

Elliestaresatme,thenherbeautifulfacescrunchesup.“Nohardfeelings?Well…I’mkindof

disappointedinthat,McAllister.”

“What?”Isay,caughtoffguard.
“Well,”shesays,lookingatmesidewayswithacoygrinonherface.“Amanshouldfightforthe

womanheloves.Maybeyoudon’tloveme?”

“Hell.”Ilaugh.“I’malyingfuck,MissHatcher.IhaveadungeoninthebasementwhereIplanto

tieyouupandneverletyougoifyoutellmetogetlost.”

Sheburstsoutlaughing,hercheeksbrightpinkfromthewindandthecold.Scoutjumpsupand

downatourchangeinmood,tuggingontheleashuntilIdropitandtakeEllieinmyarms.“Isthata
yes,Ellie?Tooursecondchanceatthedelusionaldreamlife?Willyouhelpmakeallthethingsthat
neverhappenedtoushappennow?BecauseIwantthis.”Idropherhandsandspreadmyarmswide.“I
wantallofthis,butIonlywantitwithyou.”

“Iwantit,Mac.Iwantyou,andher,”shesays,noddingtowardsarunningScout.“Andthis.And

thedream.Notjustanydream,butourdream.”

“Thenletmetakeyouinside.BecauseIhavealottoshowyou.I’vebeensobusyinmydelusional

worldsincewelastsaweachother.”

Herhandslatchontomyarmandsheleansherheadintomyshoulderaswewalkuptowardsthe

house.

“Butwe’llhavetoorderoutfordinner.There’snofoodhere.”
“Nothing?”sheasks.“Youhaven’tbeenlivinghere?”
“Withoutyou?”Iscoff.“Never.”
“Well,Ican’twaittogrocery-shopwithyou,MacleanCallister,”Elliesayswithasigh.
“Itakethatback,”Isay.“Idohaveoneediblethinginthehouse.Butwewon’tbeusingitfortoast

tonight.”

Ellieleansintomychestandherlaughcomesoutasamistofairfromhermouth.Ileandownand

kissherlips.Sowarm.Sofamiliar.Soready.

“Butterwillneverbethesame.Andneitherwillthekitchentable.BecauseI’mgoingtobendyou

overitthemomentwegetinside.”

Yeah.
Thisisperfect.
Everybitofthisisperfect.
ButonlybecauseEllieismyMrs.Perfect.

Epilogue-Mac

“Niceparty,Perfect.”
EllieandIgotengagedlastweekandIwantedtosharethegoodnewswithmybestfriends.Ican’t

waitforthemtofindhappinesslikeIhave.It’sbeenalongtimesincewe’veallbeentogether.Even
Mr.Mysteriousisheretonight.Thoughwhereheisrightnow,Ihavenoidea.

“Thanks,Corporate,”ItellWestonConrad.“Idomybest.”
“Andyoualwaysdoitperfectly.”
“WhatcanIsay?”Ishrugandtakeasipofmywhiskey.“Theydidn’tcallmeMr.Perfectfor

nothing.”

“Buthey,”Westsays,turningmoreserious.“I’mworried,man.”
“Aboutwhat?”Iask.
“Notwhat.Who,”Westsays.
“Whothen?”
“DoyouseeNolanoverthere?”
“Yeah.”NolanDelaney,AKAMr.Romantic,isbeinghisusualplayerselftothegirlhebrought

withhim.I’mnotsureshenotices,butthat’sprobablybecauseshe’sonlyusinghimforhismoney.
“Sowhat?He’slookingandactingthesametome.”

“Exactly,”Westsays.“Andlook,Mr.Matchcamealone.Alone,dude.Whatthefuckisupwith

that?”

“Oliver?Shit,heneverhasagirlwithhim,Ihear.HissisterisalwaysharpingtoCamilleaboutit.

Howcanaguywhoownstheworld’slargestdatingsitenothaveagirlfriend?It’sbadbusiness,don’t
youthink?”

Westgrunts.“Andlook,quick!Beforehedisappears!”IlookinthedirectionWestispointingto,

butthere’snoonethere.“Fucker,”Westsays.“Assholeslippedoutagain.”

Icanonlyassumehe’stakingaboutMr.Mysterious,AKAPaxtonVance.Whohasbeenevenmore

mysteriousthanusualthesepastfewyears.Iknowhe’shere—severalpeoplehavementionedthathe
lookslikehejustgotoutofjailwiththatsix-daybeardstubble.ButPaxhasalwaysbeentheangry
type.Andhe’sneverbeentojail.Surely,Iknowthatabouthim.I’dprobablybetheguytogethisonly
phonecallifheneededalawyer.

“Thisisallwrong,”Westsays.“It’snotgoodforthemtokeeplivinginthepast,youknow?”
“Whatdoyousuggest?”Itakeanothersipofwhiskey.
“Agoodtalking-to,Ithink.”
Ismileatmyoldfriend.Andthenwelaugh.Andlaughandlaughandlaugh.Oliverwandersup

andaskswhat’ssofunny.WestandIjustkeeplaughing.

Agoodtalking-toisfraternity-houseslangfor,Let’sfuckwiththem.
“I’min,dude.”
Wefist-bump.WeevengetunsuspectingOlivertojoinin.
Letthegamesbegin.

***********

WANTTHENEXTBOOK?
Mr.RomanticbyJAHuss

BUYHERE

Description
Charm.Charisma,magnetism,sexappeal—that‘it’factorthatcan’tbedescribed.
NolanDelanyhasitisspades.
TheinfamousMr.Romantic.
Andmaybeheisoutofmyleague…ButI’mgoingtogiveittheoldcollegetryanyway.

BecauseIdidn’ttraveltwothousandmilesforajobinterviewathisrequestjusttobeputoutlike
trash.

Don’tunderestimateme,Mr.Delaney.
I’mreallynotasinnocentasIlook.

ENDOFBOOKSHIT

WelcometotheEndofBookShit–theplaceattheendofeachbookwhereIgettosaywhatever

Iwant.Theyarenevereditedsodon’tjudgemygrammar,typos,orcommausage.It’salwayslast
minutewhenIwritetheseandeverythingcomesoffthetopofmyhead.Youmighthearfanscallitthe
EOBSinconversation.TheyreallylookforwardtotheselittlerantsofmineandIreallyenjoy
writingthem.Especiallyinacontroversialbook.

Mr.Perfectisn’tverycontroversialbutIstillhavequiteabittosayaboutit.Ifyou’vereadafew

ofmyEOBSchaptersthenyoumightremembermesayingIliketothinkaboutabookforapretty
longtimebeforeIstartwriting.Usuallyaboutayear.Sometimesalotlongerthanthat.Oneofthe
reasonsittakesmesolongtogofromideatobookisthatIplanmyyearoutaheadoftime.Sowhen
Icameupwiththeideaforthisbookinthespringof2015Ialreadyhadafullplateofbookstowrite
beforeIcouldgettoit.

Themainpremisewasalwaysthesame.Delusionalgirlmeetspracticalman,butbeforethey

meet,practicalmangetsahugedoseofherdelusionalworldviatextmessages.

Thisbookactuallystartedoutasanangstynewadultstoryaboutagirlwholostherfirstlove

andfellforhisbestfriend.Buteh,Igotboredwiththat.TheoriginaltitlewasAllTheThingsThat
NeverHappenedandifyoudoasearchyou’llseeIusedthatphraseacoupletimesinthebooktopay
homagetoatitleIloved.

ItbecameMr.PerfectafterIdecidedtogiveMacalittle“team”justliketheoneRonin,Ford,

andSpencerhadintheRook&Roninbooks.IhadjustwrittentheHappilyEverAfterepilogue
novellawhenIstarteditchingtodoanotherseries.Ispentalmostallof2015writingstandalones.Idid
startanewsuperheroromanceserieswithAnarchyFound,buteverythingelselastyearwasa
standalone.IguessWastedLustwasmoreofafinalDirty,Dark,andDeadlybook,butitwasalsoa
spin-offof321.Soeh.YoucouldreadWLalone,butnoonereallywantsto.Sashawastoobigofa
characterinalltheotherbooks,goingwaybacktoFord’sSlackbook.

Thereallycoolthingaboutaseriesisthatyougettobuildaworldandhangoutinitfora

while.WhenIwrotetheHappilyEverAfterbookforChristmaslastyearIfeltlikeIwasgoinghome
totheRook&Roninworld.Itwassomuchfun.Butitwasover.TheEnd.Andyes,Iwillbewriting
aboutsomeofthekids—particularlyFive.IknowthereareatonofpeoplewaitingonFive,butIjust
don’tfeelreadytoputthatonpaperyet,soit’sbeingheldbackuntilspring2017.WewantFiveand
thePrincesstobeperfect,right?;)Andtheremightevenbeanother“team”kidcroppingupina
futurebookquickerthanyouthink.Keepyoureyespeeled!

ButIneededanewseries.Anewgroupofpeopleinabrandnewworld.Isetthisfirstbookin

Denver,butthesecondbookisinCaliforniaandNewEngland.ItrytowriteplacesIknowandthat’s
whyyouusuallygetColorado,California,andanyofthemanysouthwesterndesertsfromme.But
I’mbranchingout,bitches!:)NewEnglandhereIcome.I’veneverevenbeenthere(Asidefrom
EasternPA),soitwon’tbeasbigapartasmyotherlocations,still,Ishouldgetsomecredfortrying.

AndeventhoughMr.PerfectstartedoutasastandalonedramaIlikeitmuchbetterasabook

oneofastandaloneseries.

So…theteam.;)Hotguyswithmoneyandsuits.Allofthemshareasecretpastandyougota

smalldoseofthatpastinthisfirstbook,butofcourse,whatkindofJAHussbookwoulditbeifI
gaveyoueverythingstraight?RememberTragic?RememberhowyouknewRookhadalittle
somethin’somethin’goingonbeforeshemetRonin.Andrememberhowwitheachbookitgotalittle
bigger?Alittlemoretwisted?Well,theMisterSeriesisalittlebitlikethat.

Therearefivemenasyoujustfoundout.Eachofthetitlesbelowwillbelinkedtothebookonce

itgoesliveorisupforpre-order.Soifyou’dlikethenextone,justclickthelinks.Ifit’snotavailable
yet,you’llbetakentomywebsite.

Mr.Perfect
Mr.Romantic
Mr.Corporate
Mr.Mysterious
Mr.Match

EachbookcanbereadasastandaloneandoutoforderuntilyougettoMr.Match.Andletme

tellyou,Mr.Matchwillhavequitethesurpriseinstoreforyou.

Andeachguyplayedapartin‘thatnight’,butmaybenotthepartyou—ortheirfriends—think

theydid.Macgotoffeasy.(Insertevillaugh)Butthatmightnotbetheendofthestoryfortherest.

Butthemainstoryismostlyaboutloveandhoweachofthesedamagedmencometotermswith

theirpast,findtheirsoulmates,andmoveforward.Ithinkeachoftheladieswillbechallengingto
theminauniquewayandeachofthemenwillbepantie-meltinghotbetweenthesheetsandthepages.

I’mgoingtoreleasethesebookseverytwomonthsandeachonewillhaveapre-orderifyou’d

liketogetthatbookassoonasitdropsonreleaseday.AndthenafterthelastMisterbookreleasesin
DecemberIhavesomethingBIGforyou.

Anotherseries.Yup.Threebooks.Threeguys.Onegirl.Soundsdirty,right?Well,itcertainly

willbethatbutthat’snotallthereistoit.Ofcoursenot!ThisseriesisoneI’vebeendyingtowrite
sincelastsummerbutdidn’thavethetime.AndIhavenotbeenabletostopthinkingaboutthese
people.Soholdon…thereisso,SOmuchmoretocome.

Yes,Iwillfinish,andrelease,thenexttwoAnarchybooksinearly2017aswell.Iknowalotof

youhavebeenaskingforthat.AndIamstillwritingtheGideonbook.I’mthinkingofsellingthattoa
publisher,sowe’llseewhathappensIfitdoesn’tsell,I’llreleaseitmyselfthiswinter.

*********

Ifyou’dliketohangoutwithmeonFacebookIhaveaprivatefangroupcalled

ShrikeBikes

Justasktojoinandsomeonewillapproveyouassoonastheyseeit.Iaminthatgroupchattingwith
thefanseverysingledayandwehavealotofgiveawaysandfunstuffgoingallthetime.Especially
aroundreleasedays.Iusuallydoatakeoverandgiveawayallkindsofstuffrelatedtothenew
release,socomeonbyandsayhi.

Thankyouforreading,thankyouforreviewing,andI’llseeyouinthenextbook.

Julie

AbouttheAuthor

JAHussistheNewYorkTimesandUSATodaybestsellingauthorofmorethantwentyromances.

Shelikesstoriesaboutfamily,loyalty,andextraordinarycharacterswhostrugglewithbasichuman
emotionswhiledealingwithbiggerthanlifeproblems.JAloveswritingheroeswhomakeyou
swoon,heroineswhomakesyoujealous,andtheperfectHappilyEverAfterending.

Youcanchatwithheron

Facebook

Twitter

,andherkick-assromanceblog,

NewAdultAddiction

Ifyou'reinterestedingettingyourhandsonanadvancedreleasecopyofherupcomingbooks,sneak
peekteasers,orinformationonherupcomingpersonalappearances,youcanjoin

hernewsletterlist

andgetthosedetailsdeliveredrighttoyourinbox.

JAHusslivesonadirtroadinColoradothirtyminutesfromthenearestpostoffice.Soifshe

owesyouapackagefromagiveaway,expectittotakeforever.Shehasasmallfarmwithtwo
donkeysnamedParis&Nicole,aringneckparakeetnamedBird,andapackofdogs.Shealsohastwo
grownchildrenwhohaveneverreadanyofherbooksanddonotplanoneverdoingso.Theydo,
however,planonusinghercreditcardsforever.

JAcollectsgunsandlikestoreadsciencefictionandbooksthatmakeherthink.JAHussusedto

writehomeschoolsciencetextbooksunderthenameSimpleSchoolingandafterpublishingmore
than200ofthose,sheranoutofshittosay.ShestartedwritingtheIAmJustJuncosciencefiction
seriesin2012,buthassincefoundthemeaningoflifewritingeroticstoriesaboutantiheromenthat
readerslovetolove.

JAhasanundergraduatedegreeinequinescienceandfullyplannedonbecomingaveterinarian

untilsheheardwhatkindofhourstheykeep,soshedecidedtogotogradschoolandgotamaster ’s
degreeinForensicToxicology.Beforeshewasafull-timewritershewassmellinghogfarmsforthe
stateofColorado.

EventhoughJAisknowntobetestyandsomewhatofabitch,shelovesher#fansdearlyandif

youwanttotalktoher,joinherFacebookfangroupwhereshepostsdailybullshitaboutbullshit.

Ifyouthinkshe’skiddingaboutthiscrazyautobiography,youdon’tknowherverywell.

Document Outline

Contents
Mr. Perfect
DESCRIPTION
Chapter One - Ellie
Chapter Two - Ellie
Chapter Three - Ellie
Chapter Four - Ellie
Chapter Five - Mac
Chapter Six - Mac
Chapter Seven - Ellie
Chapter Eight - Mac
Chapter Nine - Mac
Chapter Ten - Ellie
Chapter Eleven - Ellie
Chapter Twelve - Ellie
Chapter Thirteen - Mac
Chapter Fourteen - Ellie
Chapter Fifteen - Mac
Chapter Sixteen - Ellie
Chapter Seventeen - Mac
Chapter Eighteen - Ellie
Chapter Nineteen - Mac
Chapter Twenty - Ellie
Chapter Twenty-One - Ellie
Chapter Twenty-Two - Mac
Chapter Twenty-Three - Ellie
Chapter Twenty-Four - Ellie
Chapter Twenty-Five - Mac
Chapter Twenty-Six - Ellie
Chapter Twenty-Seven - Ellie
Chapter Twenty-Eight - Ellie
Chapter Twenty-Nine - Mac
Chapter Thirty - Ellie
Chapter Thirty-One - Ellie
Chapter Thirty-Two - Mac
Chapter Thirty-Three - Ellie
Chapter Thirty-Four - Mac
Chapter Thirty-Five - Ellie
Chapter Thirty-Six - Mac
Epilogue - Mac
END OF BOOK SHIT
About the Author

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