“Really?” Tia asked, sitting up. “Why?”
“Oops!” Savannah said, putting her hand to her mouth. “I don’t think it’s public yet.” She looked around the office, then motioned the girls closer. “But the rumor is that she’s pregnant.”
Tia shrugged. “How is that a scandal?”
“Because it’s not her husband’s baby.”
This was a scandal. Joan Renfro was an associate editor who had been at Intuition for only a couple of years, and yet had already been making her mark on the journalism world. She wrote smart and thought-provoking articles about relationships.
She had a blog on the side that had become quite popular, and she’d recently been doing gigs on morning shows on CNN and MSNBC, talking about the relationship dynamics between men and women whenever there was a new study or a topical story that came out. She was the kind of writer that most women’s magazine were lucky to have– smart and relevant with an edge, while still able to stay true to the brand.
“Wow,” Tia said, whistling. “That is a scandal.”
“I know!” Savannah said. “And her husband’s so hot, too.” She pursed her lips to the side, like the thought of someone cheating on a man who was hot was totally out of the realm of possibility. “Of course, you never know what’s going on in people’s private lives.”
Addison almost laughed out loud. Wasn’t that the truth.
“Can’t she just stay on and have the baby?” Addison asked. “I mean, a lot of people have affairs or cheat on their husbands. Unless you’re in the military or politics, I doubt anyone is going to really care.”
Savannah shrugged. “I guess the new guy doesn’t want her working. It’s all very strange, I think she’s having some sort of mental breakdown.” She shook her head. “It’s always the ones you think have it all together.”
The girls sat there for a moment in silence, contemplating Joan’s ruined future.
“Anyway!” Savannah said brightly. “Her job’s going to be open soon. I’m totally applying.”
“Her job is going to be open?” Addison asked. This was the most interesting part of the story, at least to her. Joan was an associate editor, which was one step above Addison’s editorial assistant job. Not to mention Joan got to write smart, topical articles on relationships, which was exactly what Addison wanted to do.
“Of course, what else are they going to do with her section?”
“I don’t know,” Addison said. “I just thought that with the revamping, they might just let it go.”
“No way,” Tia said. “People read Intuition for the relationship articles. It’ll be hard to get someone to fill Joan’s shoes, but they’ll have to at least try.”
The office was beginning to fill up now, and employees were filing by, most of the women stuffing their subway shoes into their bags, looking perfectly put together as they juggled their coffees. Addison looked down at the new dress she’d bought this morning and smoothed it down self-consciously.
“Anyway,” Savannah said, and put a finger to her lips, signaling that they should stop talking about Joan and what was going on with her. Not that it mattered. Savannah would probably tell another twenty people by lunchtime. It wasn’t like she was particularly close to Tia or Addison, and she’d told them. “I have to get to my desk. If I’m late again this week, I’m going be in total trouble.”
Savannah arranged her hair around her shoulders. Then she stood there not moving, even though she’d just said she needed to get back to work. Obviously she didn’t want to leave Tia and Addison by themselves, worried that they might share some piece of gossip without her.
“I guess I should get to my desk, too,” Tia said reluctantly. She stood up and began walking away with Savannah. Just before she disappeared around the corner toward her cubicle, she looked over her shoulder and mouthed, “We’ll talk about this later.”
Addison rolled her eyes at Tia, like there was nothing to tell.
And as far as Addison was concerned, there wasn’t. What had happened between her and Nathan Sweet was going to stay a closely guarded secret.
The office was almost full now, and Addison tapped her foot against the floor, not sure what, exactly, she should do. She supposed maybe she should work on the article that Nathan wanted, the one she’d never written about the sex positions.
Of course, she was probably going to get fired, but on the off chance she didn’t, she figured she should get some work done. Plus she couldn’t just sit there. Her whole body felt like it was pulled tight with electricity, like she was going to combust at any moment.
She rolled her shoulders in small circles, trying to force herself to relax. Then she closed her eyes and willed herself not to think about Nathan Sweet. Think about something else, she told herself. Something nice.
She imagined her family’s house back in Georgia, the sprawling yard and the peach tree in the front yard. She thought about the taste of her mom’s sweet tea, the pitcher of it that was always in the refrigerator, not just during the summer, but every day.
And then she imagined what her parents would think when she told them she’d been fired from her job in New York. Or, even worse, what they would think if they ever found out what she’d been doing last night with Nathan Sweet. With her boss.
Guilt and shame filled her body, but it flared like a firework and then flamed out.
The emotions replaced themselves with anger. How dare Nathan Sweet do that to her?
He was thirty, old enough to know that you don’t just go around messing with your employees. And especially not in the way that he’d done it with her.
Not to mention he was engaged! The whole thing was wrong on a million different levels.
The anger burned and seared inside of her, and she turned to her computer and pulled up a blank word document. She wasn’t going to let Nathan Sweet get to her like this. She wasn’t going to let him use her like she was some kind of innocent little girl he could just toss around and do whatever he pleased with.
That wasn’t okay.
She would write the article they talked about, the one on different sex positions.
And then she would send them it off to him, and not think about it again. And if he tried to pull anything else with her, or if he tried to fire her, she would call HR and report him so fast his head would spin.
Addison felt better, and she poised her hands over the keyboard, ready to get started. But the anger came back, and before she knew what she was doing, she was writing an article on another topic all together.
“What To Do If Your Boss Is Inappropriate In The Work Place” she titled it. She began to type like a woman possessed, and before she knew it, she had twelve hundred words. Twelve hundred words that included phrases like, “sexual harassment suit” and
“no one has the right to take your power away.”
When she was done, she sipped her coffee and read through her handiwork, a satisfied smile creeping across her face. It wasn’t the best thing she’d ever written, that was true, but it had a certain je ne sais quois about it that worked.
She spellchecked it, then pulled up a blank email.
She checked the company directory and found Nathan Sweet’s email.
Dear Mr. Sweet,
Attached, please find my latest article for your consideration. I know it is not quite what we talked about, but I’m hoping you will find it topical, relevant, and of interest to young women everywhere.
Looking forward to your thoughts.
Sincerely,
Addison Maxwell
She read through her email once more, then moved her cursor to the send button.
Hesitation made her fingers stop. Was this something she really wanted to do? Yes, he’d been completely inappropriate with her, but the fact still remained that she’d let him. In fact, she’d liked it. No, she’d loved it. Loved the way he’d pulled her hair, the way he’d spanked her and took control of her, the way he’d had his way with her body. She’d loved ho
w tender he’d been afterwards, giving her his shirt, feeding her, taking care of her. It was like he didn’t know how to express his sexuality softly, so he’d done it in other ways.
But still. He had a fiancé.
And it was this fact that caused Addison to hit the send button, sending her email through cyberspace and into Nathan Sweet’s inbox.
***
“So you’re really not going to tell me what happened?” Tia asked.
It was lunchtime, and the two friends were at a café across the street from the Intuition offices.
“There’s nothing to tell,” Addison said. She plucked a piece of tomato out of her salad and popped it in her mouth. She wasn’t hungry. In fact, all morning her stomach had been off. It wasn’t a sick feeling, exactly. It was more like an excited, nervous feeling.
“You keep saying that!” Tia said. She shook her head and sat back in her booth, pushing her piece of pizza away from her. “When it’s so obviously a lie!”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Addison said.
“Okay, that’s fine,” Tia said. “Have it your way. But just remember this. The truth always comes out.”
Addison rolled her eyes. Tia was so dramatic. “You’re so dramatic,” she said.
“Not as dramatic as what happened last night. The way Nathan Sweet punched that guy, defending your honor. It was like a scene from a romantic comedy.” She tilted her head and pursed her lips. “Or a stalker movie.”
Addison shook her head and smiled. She wondered what Tia would think if she knew that what had happened outside of Circle was just the beginning. That Nathan had punched her landlord in the nose after Mr. Gold had almost assaulted her. The fireworks in Addison’s stomach pulsed and burned.
“Anyway,” she said. “What’s going on with you and Mario? Did you have a good night?”
Tia nodded enthusiastically. “Yes. He’s so sweet, Addison. I think he might really be the one.”
“The one?” Addison was surprised. Tia was only twenty-five. Did she really think there was a possibility she would marry Mario? Addison couldn’t conceive of that.
It was hard enough to imagine being in a relationship, much less know exactly who you were going to spend the rest of your life with.
“Yes.” Tia’s eyes sparkled. “He’s so romantic and attentive. And he’s always buying me things.” She sighed and took another bite of her salad. “And not in the way that ridiculous Savannah’s boyfriends are always buying her things.”
“Oh, God,” Addison groaned. “Savannah. Why’d you have to bring her up?”
“We shouldn’t knock her that much,” Tia said. “She’s good for gossip. You’re going to apply for the associate editor position, right? The one that Joan’s leaving?”
“I don’t know,” Addison said honestly. The associate editor job would be amazing, especially if she could take the seat that Joan had left, and take over her duties writing the kind of relationship articles that the column was known for. But technically, Addison wasn’t sure she had the kind of experience that kind of job called for. And complicating matters was her relationship with Nathan Sweet. Was he going to have any say in who got the job? Would he have to interview her?
She imagined them alone, together, in a room, him grilling her on her qualifications. Then she pictured the way he’d looked last night, after his father had left, so lost and alone. She’d been able to make him feel better, and it had been like a drug.
Somehow, even after knowing he was engaged, she had the burning desire to take away his pain.
Stop it, she told herself. You’re acting crazy.
“You should definitely submit your resume,” Tia said. “You’re a great writer, Addison.”
“You really think I have a chance?” Addison knew her friend would give her the honest truth. It wasn’t Tia’s style to pull punches.
“You’re writing is good enough,” Tia said. “But that job is all about politics.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that there are a lot of good writers at Intuition. And the ones who get promoted are the ones who do a little something extra.”
“You mean like staying late?”
“Well, yeah, that.” Tia pushed a lock of hair behind her ear. “You definitely have to go the extra mile. But you also have to know how to network. You need to get on someone’s radar.”
A lump rose in Addison’s throat. This was exactly what she didn’t want to hear.
Getting on someone’s radar was the last thing she wanted to do, and now she was on Nathan Sweet’s. Big time.
Tia’s eyes brightened. “Hey, I know! You should come to the Technology In Journalism party on tonight!”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Addison said, shaking her head. “Isn’t that kind of a fancy affair? The tickets are, like, a hundred dollars.”
Tia waved her hand, like the price was inconsequential. “They never actually check tickets at those things, and there’s always a bunch of people who don’t show up.”
“You want to crash it?” Addison shook her head. “Oh, Tia, I don’t know…”
The Technology in Journalism party was an annual gala held at the Covington Hotel. It was one of those high-class, swanky events, the kind that included a cocktail hour and a step and repeat. It wasn’t a big deal to people outside of journalism, but it still usually got a small mention in The Post or The Times.
“Come on, live a little,” Tia said. “Everyone will be there. It will be a great way for us to network.” She looked around the little café to make sure no one from the office was there. “And you can meet people from other websites and magazines.”
It was tempting. After the current situation with Nathan Sweet, Addison had no idea what was going to happen with her job. It might be time to start looking at other options, and if going to this party was going to help her do that, then maybe it was a good idea. On the other hand, the thought of crashing a party seemed a little immature. And if they got caught, everyone would probably know about it, making her look bad in front of the very people she was trying to impress.
“I’ll think about,” Addison said.
Tia sighed and shook her head, like she knew there was no way Addison was going to agree to go to the party.
When she got back to the office after lunch, Addison began to panic. There was only a few hours left in the day, and she had no idea what she was going to do or where she was going to go. Was Nathan’s assault on Mr. Gold enough to keep her landlord away from her? Or was she still in danger?
She checked her email, but besides a few internal memos, there was nothing.
Nathan hadn’t bothered to reply to her article about having sex with your boss.
There was nothing left to do.
She was going to have to call her parents.
She’d have to spin the story of course – she wouldn’t be able to tell them her apartment wasn’t safe. She’d have to say something else. Maybe that the landlord had decided to sell the building.
A wave of nausea built up inside of her as she imagined her mother’s reaction when she asked if she could borrow money. Her parents were proud of her, but Addison knew they were secretly expecting – maybe even hoping -- that she would fail and come back to Georgia.
She reached for her office phone. Personal calls weren’t allowed during work hours, except in the case of emergencies, but Addison didn’t care. This felt like an emergency, and besides, when you’d been naked in your boss’s office the day before, making a personal call didn’t seem like that big of a deal.
But before she could dial, Addison felt the presence of someone standing beside her.
“Addison Maxwell?” It was a girl, with long straight dark hair. She was holding a large manila envelope in her hand.
“Yes,” Addison said, putting the phone down. “Can I help you?”
“This is from the office of Mr. Nathan Sweet,” the girl said. She handed Addison the envelope.
“Oh,”
Addison said. Her mouth going dry. “I don’t –”
But the woman had already turned on the heel of her sensible Oxford shoe and was striding back down the hallway. She was probably Nathan’s assistant, Addison thought. He’d probably sent her.
She turned the manila envelope over in her hand, wondering if there was a pink slip inside. It would make sense. Nathan Sweet seemed like just the kind of coward who would send his assistant here to fire her instead of doing it himself.
Her hands shook as she unclasped the envelope. There was a folded up piece of white paper inside, along with something else. Something that was jangling around at the bottom.
Addison turned the envelope over, and a key fell out and bounced onto the carpet.
She reached down and picked it up. A key? Why was Nathan Sweet delivering a key to her desk?
She unfolded the sheet of paper. It was a printout from a real estate website. A charming one bedroom apartment on the Upper West Side. For sale.
It had gorgeous wood floors and crown molding, and a bathtub, which was hard to come by in New York. There was a walk-in closet in the bedroom, and the kitchen looked bright and airy.
A handwritten note was scrawled on the bottom of the paper.
“Addison –
I have made arrangements for your things to be brought to the above address.
Please go there after work and wait for me to arrive.
I hope you find the apartment to your satisfaction.
Nathan”
Addison reread the note in disbelief.
He hadn’t actually gone to her apartment and collected her things, had he? That was stealing. She could have him arrested! She imagined herself calling the police and them showing up at the Intuition offices and carting Nathan away in handcuffs. There would be headlines in the newspaper, about how a successful millionaire (billionaire?
She wasn’t quite sure of his net worth) had given up everything just so he could steal his employee’s things that were hardly worth anything. It would be just like the time Winona Ryder ended up arrested for shoplifting.
Sweet Surrender (Sweet Jealousy, Book Two) Page 2
