Page 76 of Selfie

She’s mine.

24

Spencer

Oh shit.I look around Nathan’s office, filled with regret. The bubblegum-pink wallpaper is so bright, it’s giving me a slight headache.

I arrived at the office this morning to examine the remodel. Nathan said there was no budget, so I hired one of Vegas’s most prominent interior designers and offered her a rush fee. I told Lynette I wanted Nathan’s office to look like Barbie and Tinkerbell had a baby girl and this was her nursery if they had the budget of a Kardashian. I thought she’d realize it was a joke. Or maybe, I’ve been so angry… Was I hoping my retaliatory prank would make a big impression?

Either way, looking at it now, I fear I went too far.

The entire office looks like a replica of the Flamingo Las Vegas, and much to my dismay, I’m counting at least six different shades of pink. Charlie wouldlovethis space. This is a dream office for an eleven-year-old girl who still secretly watches reruns ofHannah Montana, even though she swears she’s too cool now. She has no idea I can see her YouTube watch history through parental controls.

But while this is a perfect office for a preteen, it’s wildly inappropriate for a grown man and real estate professional running a billion-dollar business.Oh my God.I tent my hands over my mouth and nose as the panic sets in.He’s going to kill me.This is borderline gross misconduct. This could be seen as a waste of financial resources, intentional insubordination…even vandalism.

My advance just hit my bank account this morning. The trial period is over and I was supposed to walk into work today finally able to breathe easy. Why would I risk this? Nathan’s so unpredictable, there’s a good chance he’ll get rid of me over this. I’m easily replaceable. All he’d have to do is put up an Indeed listing: Unbelievably sexy, broody, billionaire boss seeking a docile assistant that causes him no stress and doesn’t throw adult temper tantrums when he admits he doesn’t want to date her.

If he posted it now, that position would be filled by lunchtime.

I really, really fucked up. Maybe there’s still time to fix it, though. The new pink, crushed-velvet furniture can easily be replaced by the plain black leather sofas. The sheer pink curtains can come down. There’s nothing I can do about the wallpaper, but I can at least take this faux-fur pink rug out of here before Nathan arrives?—

“What the fuck?”

Oh, no. Too late. I don’t even have to spin around to gauge my boss’s response. His words lash out like a whip, tension-ridden and full of anger. I can already see his furrowed brows, burning glare, and balled-up fists before I turn around.

“Um, what do you think?” I ask, shriveling in place. I wore my best office dress this morning, the black one with cap sleeves, a sharp collar, and the waist belt with a golden buckle. I even paired it with my black, closed-toe Jimmie Joos—the mostexpensive knock-off brand I can afford. I wanted to feel powerful and confident this Monday morning, but lo and behold, I’ve never felt more defenseless, like I just entered a lion’s cage naked, with two thick ribeyes strapped to my stomach.

“You did this?” When I finally spin to face him, his expression is somewhat unreadable. He’s not happy—clearly. But I’m not finding any signs of an impending explosion.

“Well, in a way. I did say feminine-forward, but this is more pink than I could’ve ever imagined. There are some tweaks we can make. I’ll call the designer right now and?—”

“It’s fine, Spencer. It’s…colorful.” Nathan takes a few more steps into his office, observing all the intricate details, like the pink flamingo statue by the sitting area, his new blush-colored executive chair, and the fuzzy magenta throw pillows sitting on the sofa.

“You’re not mad?” Now pure confusion is my dominating emotion. Why isn’t he yelling?

“No.” He looks like he’s about to choke on his clipped, one-word answers.

Assuaged by his obvious effort to maintain calm in a disastrous situation, I actually feel bad about my behavior. “I can make any changes you like,” I say. “I think the rug is a little too much.”

Nathan nods. “Let me stew on it.”

“So you’re going to work here today?” I still can’t hide the surprise painted all over my face.

He presses his lips together so hard they lose color. They smack when he opens them again. “Thisismy office,” he answers. “Also, Spike rolled himself to the elevator bay. You should grab him before he accidentally ends up in the lobby.”

Even more curious.He called Spike by his name, and not “gross rat” or “chubby rodent.” He seems to do better whenSpike is in his gerbil ball. Perhaps he feels safer with the sphere of plastic protection.

“Right. Well, I’ll go get him, then.”

“Fine.”

I waltz right past him, but his footsteps thud behind me. As soon as I reach the exit, he grabs my wrist and pulls me to the right of the see-through glass doors, out of view of passersby. Suddenly my back is against the wall as Nathan makes a barrier with his hands planted on each side of my head. I’d have to duck under his muscular arms to flee.

“Do you feel better?” He leans closer, a dangerous look in his eyes. “Is this what it takes?”

I’m suddenly breathing in gasps. My head goes fuzzy with his lips this close and his tantalizing smell surrounding us. “What?”

“Are we even now?”

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