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“In addition to my experience,” I said, enunciating each word like I was explaining things to a particularly dense child, “I’ve always been commended for being a team player and for making people feel appreciated. And respected.”

His lips tightened at that last word.

“In fact,” I continued, warming up to my new theme, “one thing I’ve always admired about this company in my years here”—Years, you temporary little parasite. Not months, like you—“is how it promotes people who foster a culture of mutual respect and professionalism. I believe I’d contribute to that positive work environment.”

Translation:I know exactly what you’re doing, and I’m documenting every second of it in my head for HR.

“This position works directly with me,” he murmured like that was supposed to be a selling point rather than a warning label. “And I think we’d work very well together.”

Over my dead body. Or yours, if you don’t back off.

“Do you have any other questions about my?—”

He grabbed my knee this time, cutting my thoughts off mid-stream. How dare he touch me like this? How dare he do this to people, just because he was in a position of power?

“Your track record is impressive,” he purred, “but it’ll take more than that to reach the next level here.”

When his fingers stretched toward my inner thigh, I shot to my feet so fast that my chair threatened to topple over. My throat swelled painfully, eyes stinging with tears I refused to shed. Not here. Not in front of him. I swallowed hard, clearing my throat asmemories of other moments when I’d felt this powerless threatened to surface.

“If you have any other questions about my qualifications,” I said, ice crystallizing around each word, “you can ask HR.”

Instantly, his facial expression changed from pervy to hard angles. Thin lips. Narrowed eyes that shot silent warnings. He sat back in his chair, legs spread wide in an arrogantyou can’t touch me, how dare you even hint at alerting HR to mestance.

Straightening my spine, I added, “Thank you for your time.”You waste of oxygen.

I made it to the door in ten strides, but when my palm reached the cool silver handle, his voice thundered through the air.

“You leave, your résumé goes to the bottom of the pile.”

I spun around, trying to keep my jaw from falling to the ground. He nodded to the chair where he’d been trying to molest me while my thoughts tumbled down the stairs of shock. Was he actually saying what I thought he was? Escalating this from unwanted sexual advances to a downright warning that if I didn’t do … whatever the hell he’d had in mind when I came in here, I’d lose any chance of this promotion that I’d earned?

Of course he wasn’t saying it outright; anyone who wanted legal deniability wouldn’t be that careless. Technically, all he was saying was that if I left, the interview was over. But his domineering gaze that ordered me back into the groping chair said something very different.

With clenched fists, I locked eyes with him. I considered threatening him that I’d take this to HR, but I didn’t want to tip my hand, so I chose a different weapon.

“You ever touch me again,” I said, “I’ll break your fingers.”

With that, I opened the door and stormed out.

Luckily, no one was immediately outside his office to see my expression or the tears I was blinking back, but near my desk was my work bestie, Dakota. She’d stayed late so she could see how mylast interview went. The plan had been to go for martinis to celebrate.

One look at my face though, and her smile vanished. “Oh shit.”

“Yeah. I think I might have just lost my job.”

Dakota grabbed my hand. “Emergency drinks. Let’s go.”

Little did I know, going to that particular bar was about to catapult me directly into the path of someone who would change everything …

2

SCARLETT

“I bet he has a microscopic dick,” Dakota declared with the kind of venom usually reserved for people who kicked puppies.

“Bold of you to assume there’s anything there at all,” I muttered. “Maybe he’s just a Ken doll down there. All plastic and disappointment.”

I waved down the bartender, silently begging for another drink. The first hadn’t done nearly enough to dull the edge of this nightmare.