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“I’ve got the morning to see that empty store, remember?”
“Shit, sorry. I forgot.”
“I think this might be the one, Bex. This time next year, we could be running our own boutique. U and P Fashion. Or P U Fashion. Not decided yet.”
“Got to be U P. Otherwise, it sounds like pee yew, stinky fashion.”
“Didn’t think of that. Good point. Fingers crossed you still have your job when I next see you.”
10
Bex
* * *
I’ve not taken two steps inside our building before running for the bathroom. The nausea I felt when I got out of the shower was not helped by the bumpiest metro train I’ve ever ridden on. By the time I’m in the building, my stomach keeps lurching. I dash over to the visitor bathroom, leave Melanie’s dress bag by the sinks and kneel in the first cubicle that’s open.
The coffee comes up, but that’s about it. I’m just glad I’m not a big breakfast person. I stay in place for some time, waiting for the nausea to pass. It seems to take forever.
By the time I stand, my knees are hurting, and the smell is taking me back to where I don’t want to be, bringing up everything left in me. I step out a few minutes later and look for Melanie’s dress.
It’s not there.
With a rising terror in my stomach, I look around the bathroom. No sign of it. Not possible. I look again. Still nothing. I examine every inch of the place and finally have to accept it’s gone.
She’s never going to believe me. She’ll think I stole it or lost it or something. She’d be right. I have lost it. Someone must have stolen it. Who sneaks into a bathroom this early in the morning and does something like that?
I wipe my mouth at the sink, check my makeup isn’t too bad, reapply my lipstick, and then prepare my excuses. What am I supposed to say?
I walk out and head over to the reception. Sarah’s sitting behind it, looking as glamorous as ever. Does she ever get split ends this woman? “Sarah,” I say, leaning toward her. She winces, and I realize my breath must stink from what I just did.
“Like a ghost town this morning,” she replies. “How come you guys are all still here?”
“What do you mean?”
“Every other floor got laid off. The building is empty except for you guys and me. How come you’re so special?”
Before continuing, I grab a handful of mints from the bowl and crush them with my teeth. “I had a dress in a white bag for Melanie. Have you seen anyone coming out of the bathroom with it?”
“Afraid not,” she replies. “But I was busy crushing candy. I can check the camera for you if you want?”
“Would you?”
“Come to this side. Take a look.”
I walk around the marble desk and sit on the chair next to hers. She taps the hidden screen under the countertop. “How long ago?”
“I don’t know. Five or ten minutes?”
She presses a button, spooling back through the footage. As she does, a shadow falls over the desk. “Good morning,” a voice says, and my heart sinks when I recognize who it belongs to.
I look up into the face of Hunter Lombardi. At once, I’m on the back foot, my mind filled with images of what we did together, his huge cock sticking out from his zipper, me bent over, him deep inside me, filling me with his cum.
I had to take the morning-after pill because of you,I think as I look at him.
“You,” he says with a flicker of a smile. “Thought you said you were Melanie Harrison’s personal assistant. Looks like you lied to me, didn’t you?”
“I didn’t lie. I am her assistant.”
