Let me know.
-Leo
THE PUBLICIST
PENELOPE
I stared at the subject lines of my most recent emails, unsure of whether to laugh or sigh.
Subject: Never thought I’d see the day when “Ryan Dalton” was likeable. Good job!
Subject: Congratulations on making Mr. Impossible possible!
Subject: What type of drugs did you slip into his system?
Subject: Are you fucking him? (People are wondering if that’s your secret, but you can trust me with the truth. Are you?)
Over the past thirty days, Ryan had tested everything I thought I knew about being a publicist. He was definitely stubborn, beyond arrogant, but he had a soft side that reared its head occasionally. A soft side that did nothing to ease the sexual tension between us.
He was now up fifty to thirty in our game of “Who Can Drive the Other Person Insane the Best,” but he made it his personal mission to drive me home at the end of every day. We went at each other’s throats during our morning strategy meetings (He still had problems refraining from saying the word ‘fucking’ in mock interviews), but he insisted on treating me to lunch every afternoon. And even on nights like tonight, when he was refusing to work on the “atonement interview,” he volunteered to pick up some dinner for us in the meantime.
It was moments like those that should’ve made me feel guilty about using him as a muse for all my late-night fantasies, when I often fell asleep with my fingers buried deep in my pussy. I should’ve been ashamed of picturing him fucking me in the middle of our mock interview sessions instead of giving him my complete attention. I was a complete and utter fraud by purposely buying real lingerie and wearing it under my dresses, hoping he would notice.
I stood up from the boardroom table and looked outside the window. There were only sixty days left in my contract and I was honestly wondering if the two of us could possibly be friends after it was all over.
Or, at least have sex again...
The sound of my phone ringing interrupted my thoughts and I looked at the screen. Sean.
“Hello?” I answered.
“Hello, Penelope.” There was a smile in his voice. “This is Penelope Lauren, my supposed best friend, right?”
“It is.” I laughed. “I’m sorry I haven’t been returning so many of your calls and messages. “What’s going on?”
“Not much. The stock market has been kicking my ass, I’m still waiting on you to volunteer to buy me a Tesla, and Sarah and me had sex the other day. We’ll probably continue doing that with each other for awhile and um...Yeah, that’s about it. Nothing new.”
“Did you just say that you and Sarah had sex? Is this another Sarah or my germaphobe roommate Sarah?”
“The second one.”
“What!” My mind was blown. “How?”
“What do you mean how?” He laughed. “There’s only one way to have sex. I was actually waiting for you to come home, but that was before you told me you were spending the night in your office. Anyway, she sat next to me while I was watching a marathon, and it kind of just happened. Okay, granted, she did get some weird, plastic paper for us to fuck on top of before we could go any further, but other than that, it was pretty incredible.”
“I can’t believe this.” I couldn’t stop laughing. “Well, good for you two. Maybe she’ll be more bearable now.”
“Outside of the sex? Doubt it.” He put me on hold to order a cup of coffee. “What about you? Have you fucked your boss again?”
“No, I have not fucked my boss again. Thanks for asking.”
“You’re welcome. Besides, after all the time you’ve spent together without crossing the line, I’d say you more than deserve to. You should just go for it. If you really want it, that is.”
“Trust me, it’s not that I don’t want to fuck Ryan Dalton,” I said, leaning against the window. “Because I totally do and I feel like every day I’ve spent here is a lost day of having him again. I just think we’re trying our best to fight it and remain professional. At this point, I honestly don’t think he would fuck me.”
“He would.”
I gasped at the sound of Ryan’s deep voice and slowly turned around. He was standing in the doorway with that familiar cocky smirk, holding the bags with our dinner at his side.
“By all means...” he said, setting the food onto the boardroom table. “Feel free to continue your conversation. It sounds quite interesting.”
“I’ll call you back, Sean.” I ended the call and tried not to look directly at Ryan. “You know, since you’re not open to doing the atonement interview preparation anyway, I think I’m going to head back to my office and do some work from there.”
“Would you like me to drive you?”
“No.” My eyes finally met his. “I think I’d rather call a cab.”
“That’s a waste of money.” He stepped closer to me, tilting my chin up with his fingertips. “You know I don’t mind driving you anywhere after hours.”
“Yes, I’m well aware of that. I’m kind of hungry right now and need to get some dinner, though.”
“Then you really don’t need to leave.” He placed his other hand against my waist. “You were the one who insisted that we eat dinner here tonight. Unless you were only saying that to get me out of the room...”
“No.” I stepped back, feeling like my cheeks were on fire. “It’s just that...” I stepped back again.
He smiled. “It’s just that what?”
I thought my next move through for all of twenty seconds, knowing damn well it seemed like the most immature thing I could ever do.
Just do it...
I grabbed my purse and my dinner bag, and then I rushed out of the room, heading straight for the emergency stairs. I took them down three flights, and then caught the elevator on the copy floor. When I stepped outside, I hailed the first cab that approached.
“Broadway and Fifth Avenue, please,” I said to the driver. “The Office Suites.”
He nodded and pulled onto the road, and as he past the first stoplight, my phone buzzed against my lap.
Ryan.
I didn’t answer it, and he called five more times before I placed my phone on silent.
When I arrived to my firm, I didn’t bother walking to my own office. I plopped face-down on the entry room couch and groaned.
I can’t believe he heard me say I wanted to fuck him again...
I decided I would deal with seeing him tomorrow, but ten minutes later there was a knock at the door. I knew it was him without even answering it, but I didn’t get up. Instead, I called his phone.
“Yes?” he answered. “Is there any reason why you can’t open your office door for me?”
“I’m in the middle of an important interview.”
“This late at night?” He had to be smiling. “I highly doubt that. Open the door or I will.”
I remained face down and seconds later I heard the lock on the door slowly turning.
What the?
I sat up right as he was pushing it open. “How did you get a key to my private firm?”
“The same way you got a key to my private office.” He shut the door behind him, locking his eyes on mine. “I don’t believe we were finished working on my atonement interview.”
“You said you had no interest in doing it, so I’m not going to push you.”
“I find that hard to believe...” He walked over to the couch and I stood up, moving into the hallway.
He followed me and smiled. “I think you should at least ask me why I don’t want to do it.”
“It doesn’t matter since your mind is clearly made up.”
“Ask me, Penelope.”
“Fine. Why don’t you want to do the atonement interview, Mr. Dalton?
“Because I have nothing to atone for,” he said. “The interviewer was fucking my almost-girlfriend behind my back, and he knew damn well that she was my almost-girlfriend. He’d been bragging about it for weeks.”
“Almost-girlfriend?” I asked. “Between that and your random backwards countdown episodes, I’m beginning to think you really are a child.”