“Don’t,” I snap, tearing off in search of my clothes. “We’re going to be an hour late to work, Emerson. And it’s only my second day.”
“Relax,” he says, following me into the bedroom, “I’ll vouch for you.”
“Oh, yeah. That’ll look awesome,” I shoot back. “Me strolling in on my superior’s arm, getting special treatment because I happen to be fucking the right person.”
“Whoa, slow down,” he says, “First of all, I didn’t mean to offend you, I just don’t think this is as big a deal as you’re making it out to be. Cooper doesn’t even show up until noon, remember? And secondly, I didn’t realize we were just ‘fucking’, here.”
“We’re not—I’m just—” I stammer, shoving my hands through my hair. “I’ve been dreaming about a job like this for months. Years. And now, when I finally get my foot in the door, I fuck it up immediately. God, I don’t even have any fresh clothes to wear! I’m going to have to show up in the same thing I wore yesterday, and everyone’s going to know that we—”
“Here,” Emerson says, reaching into his wallet and withdrawing a credit card. “Take this. Go to the shop downstairs and buy something new. We’ll head right over to the office.”
“I can’t take your card,” I say, gaping at him. “It’s...it’s yours.”
“Why not?” he shrugs, “It’s partially my fault we overslept. Let me help fix it.”
“But—”
“Go,” he insists, pressing the card into my palm, “I’ll get dressed and meet you.”
Reeling, I gather my things and trundle out of Emerson’s loft onto the Soho street. There’s a tiny boutique downstairs, chock full of incredible items. The shop girl raises an eyebrow as I barrel in, but forgets her troubles when I hand her the surprisingly heavy credit card. In no time flat, she has me styled in a combination of new and vintage pieces. Emerson appears as I’m being rung up, impressed by my sleek black jeans, silky yellow blouse, and grungy studded jacket. I nearly faint as I see what this outfit is going to cost, but Emerson doesn’t even bat an eye as his card is charged. I still can’t get used to the idea that money is no issue for him. And I definitely don’t know how to feel about using his money for myself. But no time to debate the issue now, we’ve got to book it.
We set off for our office, which is thankfully located in the same neighborhood as Emerson’s apartment. But still, by the time we step into the elevators, it’s one in the afternoon. I bounce on the balls of my feet as the elevator lifts us up to the offices, feeling anxious and guilty.
“Take a breath, Abby,” Emerson tells me, as we draw level with our floor. “I’m sure no one’s even going to notice that we’re—”
As the doors slide open, I feel the breath catch in my throat. A dozen faces whip around in unison as the entire office turns to stare at us. Every face at the communal desk stares at me and Emerson unabashedly as we step onto the floor side-by-side. I can feel my cheeks burning as my co-workers’ gazes go from curious to smug. I’m sure they all spent the entire morning wondering if Emerson and I were together, and now their suspicions have been confirmed.
“Cooper asked to see you both as soon as you got in today,” says Emily, one of the people who saw me and Emerson at that bar together. The corners of her mouth are turned up in a grin that’s starving for scandal.
“Thanks,” Emerson says curtly, drawing himself up to his full height. He has no reason to be cowed by our co-workers’ scrutiny. He has seniority. And a billion-dollar bank account. I, on the other hand, am absolutely leveled. I can’t believe I’ve let myself become a joke within my first forty-eight hours here.
“Nice duds,” mutters Tyler, scoping out my outfit as Emerson and I hurry past the desk toward Cooper’s office.
“That’s what a sugar daddy will get you,” Bradley stage whispers. Delighted chuckles go up all around the table, and my embarrassment hardens into anger.
“Why don’t you focus on the task at hand instead of sniping like a little preteen, beardy?” I snap back at him.
“Wow. Someone’s touchy,” he says, raising his bushy eyebrows. “I thought hot sex was supposed to be relaxing.”
“Hey, Bradley” Emerson cuts in, whipping around the face the alternative douche bag. “Why don’t you try shutting the fuck up.”
The room goes quiet around us as Bradley and his cohorts back down. But instead of this being a relief, it only adds to my annoyance.
“Don’t fight my battles for me,” I mutter to Emerson, marching toward Cooper’s door.
“Your battles?” he shoots back, “You’re in this alone now, are you? I could have sworn that it takes two to oversleep after tearing up the bed sheets all night.”
“No, I’m just—” I begin, but the frosted glass door swings open before I can finish.
“Ah. You’re here,” Cooper says, appearing in the doorway. His jolly demeanor has totally vanished, in its place is nothing but a cool, detached stare. The transformation is total, and it takes me off guard. But Emerson’s not worried—or at least, he’s pretending not to be.
“You wanted to see us?” Emerson asks, strolling into the office. I hurry in after him, feeling a dozen judgmental stares boring into my back.
“Yes,” Cooper replies crisply, closing the door behind him and taking a seat at his desk. “Have a seat, you two.”
“Have a seat?” Emerson laughs. “Feeling a bit formal today, Coop?”
“Just sit down, Emerson,” Cooper shoots back.
Emerson and I sink down into the two chairs before Cooper’s desk. Our boss looks back and forth between us, his expression unreadable. Emerson, for his part, looks cool as a cucumber. I, on the other hand, probably look like I’m going to be sick. In fact, I just might be, depending on how this little meeting goes.
“The last thing I want to do in my precious free time is intercept office gossip,” Cooper begins, crossing his arms over his sweater vest. “But the buzz about you two has been a bit impossible to ignore this morning.”
“People like to talk,” Emerson shrugs, leaning back in his chair. I glance at him nervously. His nonchalance could very easily read as disrespect.