Crushed (Crystal Brook Billionaires) (33 page)

He raises his eyebrows and looks up at me. The silence stretches on, and I realize he truly does intend to start our first day together like this. Heat rises across my body as I turn and make my way through the door. I’m almost certain I can feel his eyes on my back the entire way out. Or my ass.

I close the door firmly, although softly, more in an effort to put some space between the two of us than give him privacy. The three people in the outer office are busy on their computers.

Dana looks up at me. “How did it go?”

I glance at Chuck and Daniel, then walk over to her desk. It’s L-shaped with room for four seats, reminding me of the desks we sat around in elementary school.

“Okay,” I say uncertainly.

She grins. “Don’t worry. It could have been worse.”

I stare at her. Was she eavesdropping? Does she know what happened in there?

“Newbies have gotten kicked out after thirty seconds alone with Mr. Mulroney,” she continues, “just because he didn’t like the look of them.” She studies me. “You didn’t get kicked out, did you?”

“No. I don’t think so. I got told to go get coffee.”

She gives a short, to-the-point laugh. “Damn, sounds like he went easy on you.”

*

I push the salad around with my plastic fork, but I’ve got close to zero appetite. I’ve only worked for Simon Mulroney for four hours, and it’s already been one of the worst mornings of my life.

“You’ll get used to his ways,” Dana says, plopping down next to me, literally reading my mind.

“His
ways?
So he’s like this a lot?”

“Dickish? Oh, yeah.” She takes a swig from a bottle of water. We’re at a little corner cafe several blocks from the studio, and the place is bustling with a lunch crowd grabbing spinach wraps and quinoa salads.

“He’s basically the king of arrogance,” she continues as she pulls tomatoes off her sandwich. “I mean, why shouldn’t he be? It’s not like he’s ever had to work for anything. He’s inherited everything he has: the studio, his good looks. No one is head of a major studio when they’re only thirty-one. Unless you’re a Mulroney.”

I stab a red pepper. “His grandfather started the studio, right?”

“Yep. And you’d think the Mulroneys run the entire city, the way Simon acts. After his grandfather, his dad became the head. Four years ago, it was Simon’s turn.”

“Wow,” I breathe, thinking about it. Head of a giant movie studio at twenty-seven. That’s five years older than I am now. I wouldn’t even know what to do with that kind of power.

Lose my shit, that’s what I’d do.

A thought occurs to me. “Maybe he’s just insecure because he got the job so young, you know? Everyone knows it was just given to him, so they’re probably all waiting for him to screw up.”

Dana nods thoughtfully, chewing on her sandwich. “Could be. But come on, look at the guy. How insecure can you be when you look like that?”

She has a point.

“How do you deal with him?”

She lifts a shoulder. “Easy. Every day, I remind myself that my job is just one stepping stone in my career, and I look at the bright side. He’s only there about half of the week. He’s got another office downtown.”

I sigh and drop my fork. “It doesn’t matter for me. I think I’m going to get fired even if he’s only here one hour out of the whole week.”

She rolls her eyes. “Everyone says that on their first day.”

“Yeah? And then what happens?”

She shrugs, then freezes. “Okay, well, some of them
do
get fired.”

My heart sinks at her words. “Great. I’m doomed.”

“Hey, you’re doing better than most… oh my God!”

Her shriek is so loud I practically jump out of my metal chair. “What? What is it?”

She clutches at her hairline. “The plants. I totally forgot all about them. They’re supposed to be delivered sometime today. Damn it. I should have had one of the guys stay at the office during lunch.”

“I’m sure the delivery man will just set them by the door,” I say, resisting the urge to pat her hand. “I mean, they’re just plants. They’ll be okay.”

“You would think so. Simon is particular about everything,
including
his stupid peace lilies.” She rolls her eyes. “I’m gonna have to go back there.”

“Wait, I can go.” I put my hand out as she starts to get out of her chair.

“Really?”

“Yep. I’m not even hungry. I’m just gonna save my salad for later.”

She nods and sinks back into her chair. “Okay, thanks. I owe you one.”

“Don’t mention it.”

I grab my backpack and plastic to-go box full of greens and head out of the cafe, hopefully towards a prime opportunity for redemption.

*

The plants are in the little lobby, near the front desk. Stacey is nowhere to be found, but I assume the two potted plants, a few feet tall each, are the right ones since they’re just sitting in the middle of the floor. I feel their soil, testing to see how dry they are. Maybe if I water them and take them to Mr. Mulroney’s office, I’ll score a brownie point with him. It’s worth a try, anyway. After bringing him back the coffee earlier, I’d promptly spilled half of it on the floor. I need all the help I can get.

I fill a little paper cup with water from the drink dispenser and give each plant a healthy dose, then set about moving them to their new home. They’re heavier than they look, and I end up having to drag them one at a time. I alternate between the two, pulling one a few yards down the hall and then going back for its twin. I’m glad the office is empty because I look like an idiot, I know it.

The door to his office is closed. I stop in front of it for a second and crane my neck to listen for any noises. He left for his lunch break before any of us assistants, breezing by without saying goodbye. That was only thirty or so minutes ago. All’s still quiet beyond the heavy wooden door, so I go ahead and push it open.

The first thing I see are the papers all over the floor. Or is it the panties, resting around the ankles of a blonde, curvy woman I’ve never seen? Or perhaps it’s the look on Mr. Mulroney’s face as he winds his hand back to land it on the bare ass of the woman, who’s bent over the surface of his desk.

Whatever it is that I take in first, it’s not long before I see something that’s more terrifying than anything else I’ve ever encountered. Simon Mulroney’s ice-blue eyes turning to stare into mine as I take in the one scene that will absolutely be the end of my career at Mulroney Pictures.

You’ll never work in this town again,
is the cheesy Hollywood adage I hear as I pivot on my heel and catapult all one hundred and twenty pounds of my being out of the office.

*

I don’t see Mr. Mulroney for the rest of the day. When Dana and I arrive back from our lunch break, the plants had been moved, presumably into his office. The door remains shut all day, though, and we don’t even know if our boss is behind it or not. According to Dana, this is normal. He pops up when he’s ready to give us some new assignment, she explains, but other than that he’s often a no-show.

I spend the afternoon sorting a large pile of documents by date and mentally running through a list of L.A. restaurants that are potentially hiring. A career slinging beer and french fries suddenly doesn’t seem so bad when it’s looking like it might be your only option.

At least it will be a waitressing job in California and not North Carolina, so I can write home lies and keep up the pretense of living my glamorous life in Hollywood. I won’t have crushes from junior high or my dentist coming in and watching me sing
Happy Birthday
to diners.

When it’s time to leave for the day, I book it off the lot, semi-happy to have escaped the afternoon without getting the boot.

And, yet, I’m not completely happy at all, because I’m just waiting for my cell phone to ring. Waiting for the inevitable dismissal that is sure to come once you’ve walked in on your boss’ kinky sex game.

…A kinky sex game that causes a hot flush to wash over my body whenever I think about it. In fact, the muscles between my legs are repeatedly clenching together as I drive home to my dingy Hollywood apartment, thinking of Mr. Mulroney the entire way. The fierce look on his face as he raised his hand is the only thing I can think about as I navigate traffic on Santa Monica Boulevard.

“Stop it,” I whisper to myself. “You don’t even like that weird spanking stuff.”

At least I don’t think I do.

When I get home, I bang through the front door and drop my backpack next to the long row of shoes and skates in the hallway — rollerblading is kind of a big thing in our apartment. The smell of onions sautéing fills the entire place, and I immediately cross the living room to open up a window.

“You’re gonna kill someone,” I say over my shoulder to Crystal, who’s standing in the kitchen stirring something on the stove. The main area is an open space, with the living room bleeding into the kitchen. There’s a mess of pots, plastic wrap and onion peelings strewn all over the counter. Her waist length, blonde hair is piled into a messy bun on top of her head and she’s wearing her usual apartment outfit of yoga pants and a tank top.

“I’ve got a date coming over,” she says, winking at me.

“Ooh la la. Who is it this time? The guy you met at Target?” I walk into the kitchen and take a peek at her veggie stir-fry before opening the fridge and grabbing a beer.

“Nope. Turns out Target Man is married.”

I spin around from the fridge and look at her. “What? Damn.”

“I know. But at least, I found out from him, and not his wife.”

“You’re gonna have to tell me the whole story.”

“I will, but not right now.” She grins at me. “I’m too excited about Joleen coming over. I met her at Runyon when I was pretending to work out. She’s got abs of steel.” She starts dicing pepper, then abruptly turns around to squeal at me. “Oh my God, how was your first day?”

I lean against the counter and pop the beer bottle’s top. “Don’t get too excited. My career in film is as good as over. Wait till you hear this.”

“Hear what?” a voice asks as Eryk, our other roommate, walks into the kitchen. His messy blond hair is slightly darker than Crystal’s, making me the only brunette in the apartment. He’s also inarguably handsome, but the real untypical thing about him is his height — several inches above six feet. At this moment, he’s even taller than usual, towering over us like a literal giant.

“Um, why are you wearing heels?” I ask, momentarily distracted by the six-inch stilettos he’s teetering on. The top of his head is nearly brushing the ceiling.

“Because I’m doing my first night of drag next month, and I have to practice walking like a queen to own it like a queen. What do you think?”

“You look like a five-minute old giraffe,” Crystal offers.

“Haha,” Eryk dryly snaps at her before turning to me. “What’s your story? Spill.”

I take a big swig of beer. “Okay, well, first of all, the head of Mulroney Pictures? As in, the man who is my new boss? Hot. Like, melt your panties off with a look hot.”

“Yesss,” both my roommates say at the same time.

I hold my finger up to signal for them to wait for the best part. “
But
I almost ran into him with my car. Then I walked in on him spanking some lady that was bent over his desk.”

Crystal shrieks and covers her mouth with her hands.

“You naughty girl!” Eryk croons as he playfully slaps my shoulder. “So what did you do? Ask to join?”

“What?
Oh my God, Eryk, you’re not serious, are you?”

“Of course I am.”

“I think he is,” Crystal giggles, moving back to the stove to turn the heat down.

“No,
I did not ask to join. But what am I going to do? I’m totally going to get fired.”

“Nuh-uh.” Eryk shakes his head. “He’s not going to fire you.”

I tilt my head back to look up at him. “Why not?”

“Because now you’ve got the power, girl. You walked in on him doing the naughty-naughty. If he fires you, he risks you running around town and talking about what you saw.”

I bite my lip and take a moment to think about this. It
does
make sense, after all…

“Okay, well… should I apologize for walking in on him?”

“Apologize for what?” he asks, baring his teeth at me. “You’re not getting my point.”

I sigh, finally conceding. “Okay, I’m just going to forget about it.”

“Or don’t,” he grins, the dimples in his cheeks popping out. “If he’s as hot as you say, it sounds like you’ve got a memory to cherish till the end of time.”

My stomach jumps at his words and I take another drink, trying to cool down the rush of fire that’s suddenly coursing through my body.

“I want to see his picture,” Eryk says. “Do you think he’s on Facebook?”

I wrinkle my nose. “I don’t know.”

“Hmm,” Crystal says from the stove. “Isn’t Facebook bourgeois?”

Eryk peers at her. “Meaning?”

“
Meaning
the man is, like, a CEO, right? If he were on Facebook, women would be hitting him up nonstop.”

“Maybe that’s where he found the woman in his office,” I say.

Eryk scrolls rapidly through his phone. “Wow.”

“What?”

“Forbes says he made about forty million last year.”

“Ugh,” I groan. “And here I am barely making enough to pay off my student loans.”

“Or even buy Ramen with,” Eryk adds.

“Ha ha,” I dryly say. “I can afford Ramen, thank you very much.” I take another drink of beer and turn for my bedroom.

“Where are you going?” Eryk asks and I hear the clop clop of shoes behind me.

“My room.”

“Have fun masturbating.”

I flip him the bird and keep walking.

I
’m sitting in the corner of the office finishing up the filing from the day before when there’s a buzz from Dana’s desk and Mr. Mulroney’s voice comes over the line.

“Send the new girl in.”

I freeze, my hands glued to the papers in front of me.

“You heard him,” Dana says, not looking up from where she’s busily typing on her computer. She knows nothing about what happened the other day when I walked in on Mr. Mulroney and his, uh, lady friend, and I don’t intend to tell her.