Unknown:You think he’s going to save you or your dog?
There’s a photo of me, Salinger, and Pepper outside of his building, returning from my parents’ house. Jaxon’s been watching me, watching us.
Unknown:He’s just going to use you and hang you out to dry. He’s not going to marry you. Men like him just like to sleep around with as many women as they can.
Unknown:When he does actually want to marry, he’s going to pick some nineteen-year-old who can give him a dozen children.
Unknown:He’s his father’s son. Don’t think I don’t know who Salinger Svensson is.
Somehow, seeing Salinger’s name on the screen makes me want to vomit. I’ve dragged Salinger into my mess. He’s a target now, just like I feared. I want to crawl into a hole and die.
I don’t even bother screenshotting the deluge of messages to send to the lawyer. He’s not going to help me.
The messages continue to pour in.
Unknown:You can make this all go away.
Unknown:You know what you have to do.
Unknown:I don’t know why you’re putting it off. If you don’t surrender, I’m going to take your dog and ruin your life, and that beta male you’re with is going to leave you anyway. Then you’ll come crawling back to me.
Unknown:Let’s do this the easy way.
“You’re Miss Popular this morning.”
I slam the phone face down on my desk as Jess sits down next to me with some of the leftovers from an early morning breakfast meeting.
“Sorry,” I say to Jess’s look of confusion.
“Oh, is it Salinger?”
I look back to where he’s pacing in his office. My boss didn’t say two words to me when he drove us into work this morning, just sat there, jaw tense, hand clenched on the gear shift, as we drove in silence.
“Yeah,” I lie.
My friend smirks. “I wondered why you didn’t respond to my messages this weekend.” If only she knew the half of it.
Jess slides a sausage-and-cheese biscuit in front of me. I force myself to take a bite of it. It’s dry in my mouth.
“So, how was he?” she asks. “Did you convince him to give us a raise?”
“We’re not like that,” I choke out around the biscuit.
“Don’t give me that nonsense of not being a gold digger like your sister. Salinger’s an asshole. You’re not marrying him. You need to milk every salty, creamy perk out of this affair that you can.”
“Gross.” I feel sick. I pick at the crispy edges of the biscuit. I could really use a mimosa.
“Does he have weird fetishes?” Jess sits cross-legged in her chair. “I hear that when guys like him make a ton of money, they get desensitized and they want really kinky, degrading sex or they can’t get off. Did he have you eat his cum out of a dog bowl?”
“Thanks, I have officially lost my appetite.” I wipe my mouth.
“If he really makes you do a bunch of weird sex shit, you could write a big tell-all like Hugh Hefner’s third wife.”
“I don’t need any more drama in my life.”
Thankfully, Jess gets a call.
I’m wracked with guilt. Salinger has little brothers. I’ve put his whole family in danger.
