Chapter two.

“Fuck Hunter Callum.”

She said the second she sat down, before Jessie could even open her mouth.

Jessie blinked at her. “Hello to you too.”

“And fuck Chloe Miller.” She added, flagging down the bartender. “Especially Chloe Miller.”

“Okay.” Jessie nodded slowly. “We’re doing this.”

“Whiskey,” she told the bartender. Then reconsidered. “Actually make it two.”

Jessie looked mildly concerned. “Maya—”

“Don’t.” She pointed at her. “Don’t Maya me right now.”

She closed her mouth.

She’d come straight to the bar after dropping her things off at home. Still wearing the same cream blouse from work, one sleeve stretched slightly from where Chloe had grabbed her earlier. There was probably still makeup smeared somewhere beneath her eyes too.

But she couldn’t bring herself to care.

When she got home the house had been empty. For once she’d actually been grateful for it. Her mom was probably out grocery shopping while Ethan was still in class, and thank God for that because she genuinely didn’t know what she would’ve told them if they’d been there.

Hey Mom, she might’ve destroyed her career today.

Hey Ethan, the hockey player he worshipped so much was the reason she may not be able to afford his tuition anymore.

Yeah. No.

She loved them too much and she was terrified of letting them down.

Suspended indefinitely. Not fired. Which was somehow even worse. Because now she had to sit around waiting for people to decide whether her career deserved life support.

She downed a glass of whiskey the bartender had placed in front of her and it burned her throat immediately.

“She grabbed my hair, Jessie.” She said. “Like actually grabbed it.”

“I know. I was there.”

“She grabbed my hair and then had the nerve to play victim in front of Cross.” She reached for the second glass. “Twenty two years of hair. Grabbed.”

Jessie pressed her lips together like she was trying not to laugh. “To be fair you did shove her first.”

She stared at her.

“Whose side are you on?”

“Yours,” Jessie said immediately. “Obviously yours. But also factually yours.”

“She called me emotionally unstable.”

“You did shove—”

“In front of everyone, Jessie.”

“Okay yes that was bad.”

“And now I’m suspended.” She set the glass down harder than necessary. “Because of her. Because of him. Because Hunter Callum is too important and too arrogant and too—”

“Attractive?”

“Too insufferable,” she finished, glaring at her. “To spare thirty minutes for an interview that could have saved her career.”

Jessie looked at her with the patient expression of someone who had heard variations of this speech before. “Maya.”

“Don’t.”

“I’m just saying—”

“He has billboards, Jessie.” She gestured at nothing. “Actual billboards. In Manhattan. Staring down at normal people like he personally owns the sky.”

She shook her head. “Arrogant. Insufferable. Hockey playing menace.”

“You think he’s attractive though.”

“She thinks he’s the reason she’s sitting in a club on a Tuesday instead of at home with her dignity.”

And God, she was so angry she could feel it in her hands.

Jessie finally let the laugh out. “You called me.”

“Because she didn’t want to sit at home alone hating him.”

“So you came here to organize a hate party for Hunter Callum.”

“Exactly.” She nodded seriously. “That’s what friendship is.”

Something warm loosened slightly in her chest despite everything. Even on the worst days Jessie had a way of making the walls feel less close.

Jessie laughed again, shaking her head. “Okay but can I say one thing?”

“No.”

“Chloe was always going to find a way to take something from you. That’s just who she is. And Hunter Callum doesn’t even know your name.” She leaned forward slightly. “So right now you’re letting two people who don’t think about you at all live rent free in your head.”

She stared at her empty glass. The worst part was she wasn’t wrong.

“I hate when you’re reasonable,” she muttered.

Jessie smiled. “I know.”

“It’s very annoying.” She huffed.

“Also I know that.” she nodded.

Hart Publishing didn't know it yet, they'd just lost a jewel. She knew she was passionate at what she did.

She sighed and dropped her chin into her palm. The bass of the club pulsed low and heavy around them. Lights flashed across the dancefloor where bodies moved against each other in the dark. The whole place screamed expensive in the way that made her feel slightly criminal just for being there.

“You know what I need?” she said.

“A water?”

“To stop thinking.”

Jessie’s eyes lit up. “Dance floor.”

“Absolutely not.” She shook her head.

“Maya—”

“I don’t dance when I’m sober.”

“Good thing you’re not sober.”

She opened her mouth then closed it. Jessie had a point.

Before she could argue further Jessie’s phone rang against the counter. She glanced at it and her face fell slightly.

“Crap.”

“What?”

“It’s Ava. Something happened with her car.” She was already standing, grabbing her bag. “I have to go sort it out.”

She stared at her. “You’re leaving me.”

“I’ll come back.”

“That sounds completely fake.”

“Do not move from this spot.” Jessie firmly pointed at her. “And do not talk to strangers.”

“I’m an adult.” She rolled her eyes.

“You’re six whiskeys deep and emotionally compromised.” She squeezed her shoulder. “I’ll be back soon okay?”

She waved her off. “If she dies, tell her mother she was beautiful.”

“You’re so dramatic.” She was already moving. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

Then she was gone.

She sat there for a moment staring at nothing. Just her and the noise and the lights and the low warm buzz of whiskey moving through her blood.

Then the thoughts crept back.

Rent. Chloe. Suspension.

Hunter freaking Callum.

She pushed off the stool before they could settle properly.

The dance floor was loud and dark and full of people who had no idea who she was or what kind of day she’d had and honestly that was exactly what she needed.

She found a space somewhere in the middle and just moved. Not thinking. Not replaying the office or Cross’s face or the cardboard box or the billboard. Just the music and the bass and her body doing something useful for once.

For a few minutes it actually worked.

Then she felt hands on her waist.

Not asking, just landing there like that was something people were allowed to do.

She ignored it at first. This was a club. Dancing and grinding against strangers was fine. Totally normal.

Then whoever it was had the audacity to lean closer and whisper directly into her ear—

“So what’s something like you cost for a night?”

She stopped moving immediately. The hands tightened slightly on her waist.

“Come on. Name a price.”

She turned around, disgust moving through her so fast she almost felt nauseous.

The face that looked back at her took a second to place through the alcohol and the flashing lights. Then recognition hit her immediately.

Derek Lawson. The arrogant jerk she’d rejected six times in high school. Six rejections and apparently still an asshole.

“Are you serious right now?” she said flatly.

He grinned. The kind he thought was charming. “Maya Adams. Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Clearly.” She removed his hands from her waist. “Don’t touch me.”

“Relax—”

“I said don’t.”

Asshole.

She turned and walked back toward the bar before he could say anything else. Didn’t look back. Just walked straight back to her stool at the bar.

So much for loosening up on the dance floor. She felt annoyed. Even more than she had already been.

She climbed back onto a stool, flagged the bartender and ordered something cold without really looking at the menu.

Her heart was beating slightly faster than it should have been. From both fear and adrenaline. From the particular exhaustion of being a woman in a world full of Dereks and Hunters.

She pressed two fingers against her temple and stared at the counter. The alcohol was starting to really warm through her veins.

“Rough night?”

The deep male voice beside her barely registered through the alcohol.