Page 97 of Saved By the CEO

“So does HR.” His eyes stay on mine. “You earned that interview.”

“Thank you,” I say as my heart pitter-patters in my chest.

It’s embarrassing, really, the way I act around him sometimes. I’m like a teenage girl with a crush, getting a compliment from the boy she likes.

Age them up, and it’s quite literally what’s happening.

“I have some work I need to finish,” I say, because I’m scared that if I stay in here any longer, I’m going to do something idiotic. “I should probably get back to that.”

Andrew nods, and I turn to leave, but his voice stops me at the door.

“Carly.”

I look back.

“If anyone says anything like that to you again, tell me.” There is something almost frighteningly calm in his voice. “I’ll make them regret it.”

“That’s intense.”

A smile cracks his hard features, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’m an intense man.”

“I know,” I say.

His gaze drops to my mouth for half a second, and when he looks back at my eyes, there it is again.

This thing between us.

“Get that job, Carly,” he says, his voice low. “And fuck everyone else.”

By the timeI get home, my brain feels like an early-2000s website with scrolling banners, a jumping 3D animation in the corner, and Comic Sans in every color. On a neon green background. With the same thirty seconds of a song playing on a loop.

Oh, and the cursor is blinking.

I drop my bag by the door and stand there for a second, still in my coat, still holding my keys, just breathing.

Annie looks up from the couch and gives me a once-over. “That bad?”

“I got an interview.”

Her face lights up. “Carly!”

“And then HR talked to me about Josh.”

Her face immediately un-lights.

I kick off my shoes and collapse beside her. For a moment, I just sit there and stare at the coffee table. There is an old receipt, two mugs, a hair tie, and the printed job description I left there this morning, back when I was a woman with hope.

“Now they’re definitely not going to want me,” I say.

“Why?”

“Because it’s too messy. I’m literally the central figure in a sexual harassment complaint.”

“That’s not on you, though. That’s all Josh,” Annie says, making a face. “That nasty little rodent.”

“But it still follows me.” I lean my head back against the couch and stare at the ceiling. “Tomorrow I’m supposed to sit there and explain why I’m professional and qualified, and all I’ll be thinking about is whether they’ve heard the rumors or not.”

The apartment is quiet for a moment. Outside, a car drives past with music thumping faintly through the windows. Annie studies me in that highly annoying nurse way she sometimes does, like she’s checking for bleeding. Then she reaches for the job description. “Okay. We’re practicing.”