The Editor's Favorite

Chapter 7

I walk through the door of my apartment, stopping to drop my bag on the nearby ottoman and pull off my heels. I need to get used to carrying a pair of flats in my bag, I’m so used to sneakers when I was in school or walking from the front door to my car when I was home in Arizona. 

The next thing to go is my too-tight ponytail. The air conditioning was off in the train I rode home in, and in early June a crowded New York City subway is not for the faint of heart… unless you want to faint. 

I walk into the living room rolling my head around in circles in an effort to relieve tension and smell the mouthwatering scent of garlic and butter. I take a deep breath and unconsciously lick my lips. Hmmmmmm Samantha is cooking dinner tonight! 

“Hey, Pookie! How was your first day of work?” Samantha asks as she stirs a huge pot on the stove. 

“It was a disaster,” I moan as I head to my room. “This is a night for multiple bottles of wine.”

Samantha looks up from stirring and slowly covers the pot as though she is scared any sudden movements will set me off… which… I mean… I can’t say she’s wrong. 

“What’s wrong, Pookie?”

Lindsey chooses that precise moment to slam into the house. 

“Honeys I’m HOME!” She says with loud excitement with her hands on her hips in a weird pose reminiscent of Wonder Woman. Lindsey has a habit of making big entrances, they're funny and this one did what it was intended to do - dragged me out of my funk. 

“Great!” Samantha says as she grabs some plates from the cabinet. “The food is ready and Claudia came in as though someone rained on her parade, so everyone get in their comfy clothes so we can enjoy dinner and talk.”

--

“So you mean to tell me that the same man who blew your mind on Saturday night, turns out to be your boss on Monday morning?” Lindsey asks incredulously, her half-full wine glass sits forgotten in her hand. 

“Yep.”

“And he spoke to you? Alone? In his office?” Lindsey continues with her line of questioning as Samantha watches. 

“Yep,” I take a big swallow of my wine, after a beautiful meal of pasta with red sauce and garlic bread. 

“And he hinted that not only did he recognize you, but that he wouldn’t appreciate it if you disappeared like a thief in the night again?”

“Pretty much.”

“Whoooooa,” Samantha drags out. “It’s like you’re living in a telenovela. “Or maybe this will be the beginning of a really great love story.” 

“Samantha, this isn’t one of your romance novels or plays or television series,” I say grabbing for the wine bottle when I realize that my glass is empty. “He’s a BILLIONAIRE. He’s my BOSS. He’s a very powerful man in the city of New York. I don’t want him to squash me like a bug because I got out of place. I’m sure that we will never see each other in the office. He’s the CEO and the Editor-in-Chief of The State of the Empire, nothing is going to happen between us.”

My roommates stare at me in silence with skeptical looks on their faces. 

I take a tentative sip of my wine, I *think* nothing is going to happen.

-- 

I spend the last hour before bed Googling my new boss. He's notoriously private: his father died when he was 12, his mom is a famous actress and his uncle is a wealthy businessman with political aspirations. 

Seems that he was engaged until this past October. I roll my eyes. Of course, it was to a supermodel - the world-famous Ashlei, no need for a last name. We couldn't be any more different. Where she was tall and willowy, I was nothing but generous curves. Where she was a warm honey blonde, I was a brunette who refreshed the auburn highlights myself when I have time. She was an sss and I was the hobbit next door. 

Hmmm, I wonder what the deal with that was. It seems they were together for years and the breakup was pretty sudden. 

I shake my head. 

"No," I tell myself. "We will not be stalking his ex like some crazy new girlfriend. It was one night, and nothing else is going to happen." 

I reach over to turn the light off on my nightstand. "Nothing is going to happen."