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I had always been the good girl - the workaholic with every second of her life mapped out to a tee.
Then I got trapped in an elevator with Julian Hoult.
He was... irresistible. Sophisticated sex in a crisp white shirt. His voice alone dropped me straight to my knees. What was I supposed to do?
Well....
I can tell you what I was definitely not supposed to do.
I was not supposed to run into him ever again. I was not supposed to be desperately unemployed, and I was definitely not supposed to accept his dirty little job offer.
But I couldn't resist.
As CEO of the Hoult Media empire, Julian will stop at nothing to get what he wants. So for his next venture with Manhattan's most lecherous billionaires, he's hired me to play the role of bait. And while my official title is that of Executive Assistant, my actual job requires low tops, tight skirts and flaunting everything I've got till his clients are easy to bend - till they can barely think for themselves anymore.
It's sleazy and wrong. Against everything I've worked for. But with Julian as my audience, I can't help but enjoy every second. Thanks to him, I'm embracing the bad, and I swear...
I've never in my life felt this damned good.
CHAPTER ONE
SARA
Holy shit.
I panted in the backseat of the cab, still running on the adrenaline of tonight’s potentially disastrous decision-making. It could be the biggest mistake of my life but fuck it, I’d done it.
I’d finally walked out.
I was supposed to be Stable Sara with Excel sheets for everything from her taxes to her groceries to her budget for next year’s C
hristmas gifts, but tonight I had officially reached my limit and quit the dream job I’d given my entire adult life to despite everyone imploring me to stay. But the company’s so famous, so iconic. You’ve put in so much time already. Why not stick around? Shouldn’t you consider yourself lucky to be there in the first place?”
I scrunched up my face as I freed myself from my blazer.
Yeah, no. Not so much.
If lucky meant nine years of chasing nonexistent promotions, being tricked into working thousands of overtime hours without the pay, getting thrown under the bus for anything the higher-ups did wrong, and spending the past three months on a piece that my editor had no intention of crediting me for – a fun fact I’d discovered just today – then sure, I was lucky. So lucky that I wound up permanently deleting all history of my research, contacts and writing, leaving the office in a blaze of glory that set my bosses back three months of hard work.
So… bridges?
All burned.
There was definitely no going back. And while it was exhilarating now, I knew that by morning, once reality set in, I’d be horrified. I’d worked with the company since I was eighteen. My office-centric life was all I knew. Being overworked was all I knew. In fact, I had no clue what to do with my time if I wasn’t strapped to a desk, and around 8AM tomorrow, I’d probably remember all that and have a very thorough meltdown.
So for now, I was going to ride the high.
"You said Lower East Side, miss?” the cabbie called back to confirm.
“Yes, Ludlow Street, right below Houston.”
Also known as the corner of Drink My Ass Off and Dance Till Four, I declared silently, yanking out my hair tie and shaking out my topknot.
I was in a rare mood.
I was feeling bold… liberated. Practically drunk off the thrill of having no responsibilities tomorrow. For the first time in my adult life, I had no one to report to, not a soul to be on call for, and I felt good about it, which was something I knew wouldn’t last, so… why not take advantage of tonight and do something crazy?
Well.
