CHAPTER ONE
ELISE
I CAN’T BELIEVEI made it. I accomplished what no other human on the face of the planet has ever done: survived being Nathan Edge’s assistant. For three whole years.
Walking into work on an anniversary that probably only my best friend, HR, and I were aware of felt more satisfying than anything else I could think of. More than the day I graduated from UCLA with a bachelor’s in communications, more than winning my first dance competition, and, dare I say it, even better than sex—not that I would remember the last part. Between being a part-time hip-hop and heels choreographer and a full-time assistant to the biggest prick in existence, I didn’t have much free time to date.
For three years, I’d endured late nights in the office, battled Los Angeles traffic just to fetch lunch from my boss’s favorite downtown restaurant (because heaven forbid that place deliver)and witnessed Nathan Edge make grown men cry at least once a week, like clockwork.
I was the lucky (or unlucky, depending on who you asked) soul who’d had the pleasure of working side-by-side with Nathan Edge every day. Lucky, because proximity to a man like him opened doors most people spent their entire careers trying to reach. Before me, his last assistant lasted only six hours before she went on a lunch break and never returned.
I couldn’t blame the mystery girl, though; one had to have extremely tough skin to work for Nathan Edge. Thankfully for me, growing up with a father like Damian Alexandre made working for Nathan feel like a walk in the park. Though, if I was being honest, there have been more than a few times when I was tempted to chuck a stapler at his head, or replace his signature black coffee with my white mocha latte with extra cold foam. But I never had, which was why I was still here today.
I doubted Nathan even realized today marked our three-year working anniversary. He wasn’t the kind of man to be sentimental, so I had no illusions there would be tulips waiting on my desk or that Nathan would use actual words like “thank you” instead of grunts or nods for a change. That would require my boss to look at me as more than another name on his payroll.
An incessant buzzing against my hip pulled me out of my thoughts. Balancing the tray of coffee in one hand, I reached into my purse, dug past a week’s worth of receipts, gum, and mango-flavored lip gloss, and pulled out my cellphone. Technically I couldn’t take personal calls at work, but my shift didn’t start for another three minutes.
I hesitated for a moment before answering the call.
“Congratulations!”
I scrunched my nose at my best friend’s greeting.
“Thank you,” I hedged. “What exactly are you congratulating me for?”
Kelsey giggled. “Surviving three years of working for Mr. Asshole, of course.” I mentioned it just last night, because surviving Nathan Edge was an anniversary worth mentioning.
The not-so-clever nickname was created during our weekly Girls Night In after a rough first week as Mr. Edge’s assistant and one too many glasses of sangria. I'd never forget the moment he warned me that most people didn't last three years before he fired them. The way he said it insinuated that he didn't believe I'd last three days, let alone three years, so naturally I had to prove him wrong.
“Thank you.” I smiled warmly at Carl, the front desk security guard, as I tapped my badge against the reader. The scanner flashed green, followed by a soft beat as the security gate unlocked. I stepped through the narrow opening, the glass panel sliding shut behind me with a quiet click before I made my way toward the elevators. “I’m actually about to get on the elevator. Can I call you back later?”
“This will only take a minute,” she promised. “I just wanted to make sure you’re still getting out of work at seven so you’ll be home for the strippers tonight.”
“Strippers? What strippers?” I hissed the words in a panicked whisper, glancing around to make sure no one overheard.
“The ones that I hired to celebrate you working three years for Mr. Asshole without unaliving him.”
“We can’t just pop a bottle of champagne like normal people?”
“We could, but where’s the fun in that?”
“True.” I shook my head. “But I’m going to have to take a raincheck on the erotic male dancers. Besides the fact that it’s Monday morning, I have to work on a certain singer’s release and I can’t afford for it to go anything but smoothly.”
“As the singer in question, I say thank you. But as your best friend, I say that sucks.” Kelsey sighed heavily. “Okay, fine. Raincheck. But then you and I are going out this weekend for my birthday and you’re going to get drunk, dance on top of bars, and make out with at least three strangers. You know, all the reckless but fun things you haven’t done since you started working for Mr. Edge.”
“Do I have a say in any of this?” I asked as I stood in front of the elevator waiting for it to open so I could step on.
“Not unless you’re saying yes,” Kelsey sang.
“Super,” I muttered, already regretting every life choice that led me to this friendship.
Kelsey giggled. “Have a good day at work.” She hung up the phone before I could say anything else.
I could’ve put up more of an argument, but the truth was, it had been forever since I let my hair down and had some fun. When I wasn’t in the office, I was holding my breath, waiting for my phone to ring with a call or text from Mr. Edge giving me another task or ordering me to meet him in his office at the last minute. From the moment I accepted the job as his assistant, I breathed, slept, and ate Edge Records. Late-night emails about studio bookings that couldn’t wait until morning. Last-minute schedule changes that had me reshuffling recording sessions, press runs, and appearances from my phone. Calls from artists, managers, and producers in different time zones at hours no sane person should be awake for.
If Nathan was working, I was working. And Nathan was always working. In return, I got lonely Friday nights and no one to warm my bed.
My cell rang again but this time, the number and name that flashed on the screen filled me with a sense of dread.California State Prison.There was only one person who could be calling and I had no desire to ever speak to my ex again.
