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"Rachel!" I hiss, glancing around to make sure no one is listening.
"What? It's good office gossip. And let's be real, we all know you've been dying to jump Logan's bones since day one."
"Ugh. Shut up."
She can tell I'm stressing.
"So... how's the situation now? After the deed has been done?"
I roll my eyes. "There's no 'situation', Rach." I mutter, focusing on the color palette to pick out a shade for my nails.
"Uh huh." She doesn't believe a word I'm saying. "So, you're telling me that you're just casually ignoring the hottest guy in the office who you've now fucked. Right..."
I throw a quick glance at her, and she winks at me. I sigh and lean back in the chair, admitting defeat.
"Fine. There might be a... situation," I confess. "But it's complicated. He's not my type and I don't want to get involved with him."
Rachel nods understandingly. "Well, I guess you'll just have to find a way to resist his irresistible charms then... or maybe just give in a little bit. You know, for research purposes."
I can't help but laugh and shake my head at her antics. Rachel always knows how to make me feel better and see the humor in any situation.
"I'm just... I'm just not ready, Rachel," I admit, biting my lip nervously. "I don't want to go down that route. It shouldn't have happened in the first place." I sigh, rubbing my temples as if it would erase the headache and the memories. "It was a mistake."
Rachel raises an eyebrow at me, but there's no judgment in her eyes. "You sure about that, Bailey?" she asks gently.
"I'm sure... I want to forget about it and focus on my work. I've got too much riding on this job to mess it up now."
Rachel nods. "Alright, if that's what you want, but remember, it's okay to let loose sometimes too. Not everything has to be so serious."
She lets the subject drop, focusing on her nails as the manicurist applies a second coat of bubblegum pink.
Just as the nail tech starts on my toes, my phone buzzes, an email notification popping up on the screen. I pick it up, seeing it's from my assistant.
I open it and the email begins with praises for Logan's successful pitch to the Vanderbilts. My heart sinks a little, the jealousy creeping back in.
But then, it gets worse. As I read on, I feel my stomach drop. One of my clients is now going to be working with Logan. They saw his pitch and loved it so much that they offered him a job.
I can feel my blood boiling.
What in the actual fuck?
This can't be happening.
The thought races through my mind, anger and frustration coursing through me.
How could this happen? It's my client. I've worked for them for years and now all a sudden, they are going to work with Logan the Playboy Atwood?
No.
Absolutely not.
Over my dead body.
I can't believe this. I'm furious.
"I... I need to go," I stammer out to Rachel, barely able to hide my shock and anger. I pay for my nails and rush out of the salon, barely noticing the concerned look on Rachel's face. She calls after me, but I can't stop myself.
All I can think about is Logan, and the fact that he's stolen one of my biggest clients.
