“Not interested.”
“Not open for debate.”
I scoot forward in my seat. “Listen to me closely, Maximillion. It’ll be a cold day in hell before I work for you in any capacity.”
He laughs again. “Your mom said you’d fight me on this.”
My stomach twists. “She knows about this?”
“Yeah, I told her this morning.”
This morning, as in she stayed with him all night.
I swallow the bile rising in my throat. “Don’t contact me again.” I hang up and throw my phone at the seat across from me.
What is he up to?
There isn’t anything he does unless it serves him. And like most politicians who rise in the ranks, nothing he does is on the up-and-up.
The disgust I have for my mother only grows with every interaction I have with Maximillion. I’m tempted to call her, but I don’t need to hear her tell me again how much she loves him.
I spend the rest of the short ride with my head against the backrest, trying to calm my emotions. When the car pulls up to the curb, I don’t wait for my driver to get to my side of the car, opening the door myself and jumping out.
“Thanks, Ted.”
He nods. “Have a good day.”
I go into the skyscraper. There isn’t anyone in the lobby, except for the guard at the front desk. “Morning, Mr. Sinclair.”
“Morning, Fred.”
“Saw your award. Congratulations.”
I force a smile and nod. “Thanks.”
I slide my card through the security reader near the elevators. When I get to my office, I breathe a sigh of relief.
For the next hour, I efficiently work, lost in my project. But my morning quickly becomes full of more embarrassment and interruptions. My assistant buzzes me on the intercom.
“Steven, can you help me with my computer? It’s stuck on the same screen again,” Shira asks.
“Sure.” The moment I step out of my office and turn the corner, the room erupts in a chorus of “Congratulations.” There’s a human-size cardboard cutout of me with Marquis’s Top Ten Under Forty Professionals hung on the wall.
I stare at it in horror. “Please tell me that isn’t permanent,” I mutter under my breath.
“Oh, stop being so humble. We’re so excited for you!” Shira’s brown eyes beam, and she hugs me, which she’s never done before.
I awkwardly hug her back.
Where is the typical office protocol?
The next few minutes are spent with co-workers shaking my hand, one by one, and patting my back.
My mortification only grows when someone screeches, “Turn on the T.V. to Behind the Scenes.”
The gossip channel?
A perky blonde, blue-eyed lady, smiles big. My picture fills half the screen. “Steven Sinclair is burning up social media. Twitter is going crazy this morning with #sinclaireyecandy and #sexgodsinclair.”
The screen flashes to her co-anchor, a man with black wavy hair and dark eyes. “Well, Lacy, his co-workers say he’s scheduled like a superhuman and motivated by numbers.”
Oh God. The pit in my stomach grows.
“Looks like the stud got the brains this time,” the blonde lady smirks.
“I think the public agrees. The current trending post wants to know where his social media profiles are besides LinkedIn.”
“I told you to step into the current times. I’ll set up your other profiles today.” Shira beams.
“No, you won’t.”
“Oh, come on,” she groans.
I open my mouth to speak but freeze. My ex-girlfriend, Katelyn, appears. Her hair is in a perfect French twist, her fake nails are impeccable, and her black form-fitting tank dress is flawless. Next to her is my other ex, Catarina. Her hair is in long curls, and she, too, has perfect nails, and a navy blouse buttoned just above her cleavage, tucked into a white pencil skirt.
What are they doing?
My insides shake and heart pounds so hard, I’m sure the entire room can hear it.
“Tell us what it’s like to date Mr. Hot to Trot.” Lacy leans into them as if she’s about to be fed something juicy.
“It was...well, should I say interesting?” Katelyn responds.
“I second that,” Catarina follows.
The rest of the room disappears as I stare at the screen in a trance, with my nerves oscillating in every cell of my body.
Lacy curls her fingers in the air. “Give me the deets, ladies.”
Katelyn glances at Catarina. “I think mysterious was a good adjective to describe him, don’t you think?”
Catarina snorts. “More like emotionally unavailable.”
Lacy’s smile widens. “Really? Let’s just dive into what everyone wants to know. What was the sex like?”
And this day just got worse.
Catarina licks her lips, and Katelyn purses hers, and they lock eyes again.
“Ladies, you’re killing me here. Is he all good looks and no moves?”
“Let’s just say it was worth the wait,” Catarina smirks.
“Definitely a good way to put it,” Katelyn agrees.
So much heat fills my face, I think sweat pellets might break out on my skin.
“Care to explain that further? What do you mean, wait?” Lacy asks.
“He has rules,” Catarina replies.
“Rules?”
“Kind of a dating schedule,” Katelyn offers.
“So, he has multiple women for each day of the week?” Lacy asks, her eyes shining with excitement.
“No. He’s a strict one-woman type of guy.”
“Really? That’s encouraging to know studs still exist and believe in monogamy.” Lacy smiles and raises her eyebrows to the camera.
Catarina continues, “It’s more of a date number one, you can do this. Date number two, you can do this.”
“What date number did he first kiss you?”
“Two,” both my exes say in unison.
“And then was it on?”
My exes look at each other again, like they have a secret.
“No. It was much later,” Katelyn informs the world.
“But once Steven Sinclair is on...” Catarina takes a deep breath and dramatically blows it out. “Well, the man’s an animal.”
“Like a slow burn of—”
Shira trots to the front of the room and turns the T.V. off, pulling me out of my trance as everyone groans, and several people whine for her to turn it back on.
“Five minutes until our meeting. Can I clarify some things in your office before we start, Steven?”
I snap out of it. “Sure.” I turn and leave the room, ignoring everyone’s eyes but feeling them watching me.
I can’t believe Katelyn and Catarina said those things on national television.
Shira is close on my heels and shuts the door once we step inside my private office. “Are you okay?”
I crack my neck and release a breath before I turn. Shira’s been my assistant for the last eight years, and she’s worked her way up with each promotion I received. She’s excellent at what she does and always makes me look good, even the few times I’ve fumbled. She’s in her late twenties and works a lot of long hours, as I do. “I’m fine. What did you want to see me about?”
Concern fills her eyes. “I only wanted to make sure you’re okay. That was brutal, and they should be ashamed of themselves.”