And the worst part? I know that if I had a chance, I’d do it again.
I’d do it a thousand times over.
God help me.
3
HAZEL
I drawa smiley face on Dominic’s coffee cup because I’m an idiot and I can’t help myself.
He’s not going to like it. He’s a bigtime CEO. He’s going to think it’s silly. But maybe not…
It’s a flat white from the café around the corner. A woman named Diana called while I was on my way and told me what to get him. “Flat white, no sugar, and it must behot.”
So, I picked it up for him and raced to the office as fast as possible. On my way up the elevator, I drew a smiley-face on the cup with a sharpie I keep in my purse.
I probably shouldn’t have, but that’s what I do when I’m nervous. I make jokes or try to make things cute. It’s a disease.
Standing in the lobby of Blackwood Capital, I’m painfully aware that Ido not belong here.
The floors are black marble, the elevators have no buttons—they just scan your badge and take you where you’re supposed to go. Everyone walking past me is wearing clothes that cost more than my car, and the men have on watches that I’m sure could pay for my entire apartment building.
I’m wearing Cassi’s heels because the only pair I own are being held together by tape and superglue, and I’m not about to break an ankle on my first day.
My blouse is from Goodwill, and the top button is about to pop if I breathe too deeply, so I’ve been taking short, shallow breaths ever since I walked in. Which isn’t easy, considering how nervous I am.
My skirt is the only thing that’s mine, and it’s been washed so many times that the deep black has faded into a dark gray. I like to call it charcoal.
Diana meets me on the eleventh floor—I recognize her voice instantly. She walks me to my desk. It sits directly outside Dominic’s office, which is encased by floor-to-ceiling glass walls. The glass is tinted so dark that I can’t see in.
But I can feel him. He’s in there. I know it.
“Mr. Blackwood prefers not to be disturbed until he buzzes you,” Diana says. She eyes the smiley face on the coffee cup in my hand with more disapproval than I got from my mother in all my nineteen years. “You’ll manage his calendar, coordinate with staff, and handle correspondence.Do notenter his office without being summoned first. And do not make personal calls at your desk. Understand?”
I feel like I’ve just been bullied by a drill sergeant.
“Yes. Absolutely,” I reply, mustering as much confidence as I can in this place.
She leaves, and I set the coffee cup on my desk, staring at the tinted glass.
It’s gonna get cold. Then he’s going to hate me.
My phone buzzes. A text from Cassi:First day! Don’t trip! Are your tits staying in the shirt?
I angle my phone beneath my desk to respond:Barely. Pray for me.
The morning is a total disaster.
Nothing cataclysmic—like me accidentally calling the SWAT team in or something—but the quiet, humiliating kind of disaster where you realize just how unqualified you are for the job.
I put a call through to the wrong extension and accidentally connect a trader to the company’s cleaning service. Diana chewed me out for that one.
Then, when I’m trying to learn the calendar software, I accidentally delete a board meeting entry. Someone from tech support has to come and help me get it back.
I want to crawl under my desk and die.
A man named Marcus appears at eleven and leans against the edge of my desk and crosses his legs. He’s the company’s COO, which is apparently a very important position.
