Despite what Lexi claimed, I was right. She could get kidnapped. In true New York fashion, people had pretended like they didn’t notice our argument. I could have picked her up, thrown her over my shoulder, and walked off with her, and no one would have stopped me.
Exhibit A on why she couldn’t go around complimenting strange men. Who knew what could happen?
I knew.
I shook off the feeling of dread then glanced over my shoulder. I couldn’t see Lexi through the trees anymore.
Maybe she’s already gone.
It wouldn’t do for me to follow her now.
She’ll be fine, I tried to tell myself. But it was no use—my natural state was all systems at DEFCON 1, just waiting for something horrible to happen, waiting for the ax to fall. Now that I had amassed my billions, situated my company as the leading energy conglomerate east of the Rockies, and just closed out the successful development of the tallest residential skyscraper in Manhattan, I had run out of distractions. All that was left to do was spiral into doomsday scenarios.
I needed to find balance and closure.
Except now I was adding one more concern to my plate—whether or not my oblivious assistant was going to end up on one of those unsolved-mystery reality TV shows.
Why didn’t Ms. Collins have any sense of self-preservation?
I fumed while I took a cold shower, fumed while I drove to the office, and fumed while I stalked to the glass-enclosed corner office. Employees scattered out of the way, the new hires from the fall still on edge from being in my presence.
I stood in my office at the window, an expanse of glass that offered some of the most amazing views in Manhattan. Millions and millions of dollars of glass on a tower with my name on it. All these billions, and for what? It hadn’t meant a damn thing, hadn’t gotten me what I wanted more than anything in the world.
At least it meant I could fire that redhead.
I sent a message to legal and HR.
Then she could be someone else’s problem, someone else’s worry to obsess over.
And when Lexi was gone, I was going to figure out how I was going to survive the rest of my miserable existence.
3
LEXI
The scalding-hot water sluiced down my hair, plastering it to my neck. If I closed my eyes, I could imagine that I was still in Florida, standing on the beach in the humid rain, the ocean soothing in the background.
Someone banged on the door of the bathroom.
“You’ve been in there an hour!” a man complained.
“Women need time to get ready,” I shot back over the sound of the water and the ocean music playing from my phone.
I turned off the shower and wrung out my hair. Technically these shower rooms were for people who biked into the office. Richmond Electric had developed a new way to connect decentralized green energy to the electrical grid, and the shower rooms were both a perk and a marketing opportunity to promote how much they cared, as much as a soulless corporation headed by a self-absorbed, coldhearted billionaire could care.
I let myself fantasize briefly about running a PR campaign, heartwarming and funny, about the company’s commitment to the environment. Ha! Like I was ever going to get to use my communications degree. I was just the girl who collected thedry cleaning. I wasn’t allowed to so much as proof a marketing brochure, let alone run a PR campaign.
“You’re getting paid,” I reminded myself as I smeared the steam off the mirror. Well, not that much. Free hot water was free hot water, and if it was on Grayson Richmond’s dime, all the better. Not to mention I didn’t have anything like this water pressure in my apartment.
There was more banging on the door.
“There are other shower rooms,” I shrieked.
Calm down, Squeaky Mouse.
That’s what my dad always affectionately called me.
I had really been trying to keep my voice from sounding like a sugar-high kindergartener’s, and usually I had it together, but Grayson Richmond had thrown me off.
