Page 56 of The Toy Collector

I take my time swallowing. “Something like that,” I answer.

She swirls her hand in the air, silently telling me to go on, but I can’t. My fork pauses mid-air. No matter how much I’ve tried to prepare myself, I’m not ready for this conversation.

“It’s just like any other internship. Lots of copying, filing, taking notes during meetings.” I force an expression of boredom. “You know how it is,” I say pathetically.

“That’s pretty much what it’s like at McKinley & Stern, minus the copying. My boss is allergic to paper. Says it’s ‘archaic technology.’” She rolls her eyes, then leans forward. “But come on, Pipes. Do you really not have any scandalous stories to tell?”

I choke on the sip I just took of my coffee. If only she knew. But no, that’s the point. I can’t tell her. “Sadly, no.” I shake my head for emphasis.

“Well, at least it’ll look good on your resume,” she says, mercifully changing the subject. “Unlike my internship, where the highlight so far was watching Jim get caught sending dick pics during a staff meeting.”

“No way.”

“Yes way. Projected his entire phone screen while trying to show a PowerPoint.” She waggles her eyebrows, and I laugh despite myself. “The best part was watching him try to explain it away as ‘reference materials for a medical consultation.’”

“That’s… creative.”

“It was pathetic,” she corrects. “But not as bad as my date last week. Matched with this guy who works at the State Department, right? Super hot, speaks three languages, and had this whole worldly vibe.”

“Let me guess, married?” I ask.

“Worse. Lives with his parents and has a room full of Star Wars figurines he doesn’t let anyone touch.” She makes her voice deep and serious. “‘They would depreciate in value, Lena.’”

I try to listen, I really do. But my thoughts slide sideways—back to Enzo’s office. The praise, the way he made me come, the sound of his voice. It shouldn’t still live rent free in my head like this.

Lena’s fork clinks against her plate, dragging me back. “…and then he tried to explain the entire plot of all nine movies,” she continues, oblivious to my mental wandering. “Including his theories about how they connect to current geopolitical tensions in the Baltic states.”

I blink, forcing myself back to the present. “Sounds like a keeper.”

“Oh, absolutely. I’ve already picked out your Wookiee bridesmaid dress.” She sighs dramatically.

“God, Lee,” I laugh. “How do you always find the weird ones?”

“My vagina’s cursed,” she deadpans.

I shake my head. “Wait, is this the same guy who said his cats were named after CIA operatives?”

“No,” she sighs. “That one ghosted me after I asked if they were spayed. Can you believe it?”

The laughter that burst from me is real, and tears gather in my eyes. Because no, I in fact can’t fucking believe how my bestie always ends up being the one who gets dumped.

All these years, I’ve envied her adventures. Not the being dumped, but that she’s never scared to put herself out there, to experience life to the fullest. Maybe telling her about Enzo wouldn’t be that bad.

Except… if I do, I have to admit I know he’s the one that stalked me. Yeah, I’m still not ready to admit that out loud.

Despite knowing that, the need to confess everything sits in my throat like glass. From how I earned my internship with my body, to how Enzo broke into my apartment and fucking spanked me just because he could. And… that’s just the tip of the iceberg.

I should hate him, Enzo, my boss’ boss’ boss. But instead, he occupies ninety percent of my thoughts. And more than half of said thoughts are turning into fantasies about things I want him to do to me.

Shit, I don’t know how much longer I can hold all this in. I’m one bad day from blurting everything out in the middle of a lecture hall.

“Lee.”

“Hmm?”

“Have you ever…” I trail off, blowing out a frustrated breath when no words come. Clearing my throat, I try again. “Have you ever kept something inside so long it started to feel like part of you? Like a bone that healed wrong?”

Her teasing expression drops away in an instant. “What’s this about, Pipes?” she asks, looking at me in that Lena-way that means she sees too much. “Is something off at Blackwood?”

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