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Wicked Bedmate – Cocky Hero Club
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Getting fired and humiliated in front of everyone at my newly acquired secretarial job at Morgan Financial Holdings wasn’t how I’d seen my day going.
And then chaos—or maybe luck—ensured.
I was set up on a blind date, shocked that my former boss was giving me a month’s severance, and had the perfect interview lined up.
Maybe things were looking up for me after all.
And although finding a man should have been on the bottom of my to-to list, I couldn’t get Jason—the uber sexy blind date—out of my head. Sexy and confident—or maybe arrogant—he had me yearning for more with just a smoldering look and a smirk of his lips.
But when a night of drinking leads to getting in bed with him and having the wildest, most intense night of my life, I didn’t know if I should ask to see him again, or do the good old walk of shame.
And it’s when I walk into my interview the next day and come face-to-face with my prospective employer that the reality of my situation sinks in.
Because there, sitting across from me with that devilish smile on his face, that knowing expression of what we’d done the night before, is the one and only Jason, my supposedly one-night stand.
Looked like my humiliation wasn’t over just yet.
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“You’re fired. Get the hell out of my office.”
The sound of Graham Morgan yelling at me—firing me—had my blood running cold but my face heating. I could feel everyone staring at me, humiliation slamming into me.
I will not cry. I will not cry.
I blinked rapidly to try and stave off the tears. Bursting into a mess in front of everyone would only serve to make this even more mortifying.
I opened my mouth to say something, yet I had no idea what that was. But Ben Shilling, marketing manager at Morgan Financial Holdings, had a firm jaw as he shook his head, warning me not to say anything.
So I didn’t.
I left stunned, embarrassed, and broken over what happened.
All over that I’d brought up the fact that one of his clients kept insisting on seeing him despite Mr. Morgan wanting to reschedule.
I’d been fired for something that had been out of my control. But then again, Graham Morgan reacted first instead of trying to realize the things he did were erratic and drop of a hat.
As I walked by the cubicles and headed to my desk, I could feel everyone staring at me. I had absolutely no doubt they’d heard Mr. Morgan scream at me. And although it wasn’t like they didn’t know the type of man he was, there was nothing worse than being a spectacle for everyone’s viewing pleasure.
And no doubt everyone said a silent prayer of thanks that it wasn’t them who’d just gotten canned.
I stopped by my desk and looked down, the thing pretty barren aside from actual work stuff. I’d only been working here for a couple short weeks, and from what I heard from everyone else, being here that long—or short, depending on how you looked at it—had to be some kind of world record for a secretarial position for Graham Morgan.
Someone walked by and whistled under their breath, muttering, “Another one bites the dust.” I glanced over at him, thinking his name was Hank or Harold, or something that started with an H.
He gave me this pained, forced smile but kept moving.
I closed my eyes and breathed out slowly, being humiliated all over again, like a turntable that just wouldn’t stop.
Another one bites the dust.
I guess it was inevitable.
I grabbed my purse and jacket, even my cup of coffee that I’d gotten just this morning. It was cold by now, but a shot of caffeine might really go a long way in helping my mood.
I made the long, tedious trek past all the cubicles again, walked by the meeting room with the four windows on one side of the wall, feeling everyone staring at me, knowing what they were thinking.
Maybe they felt bad for me.
Maybe they thought I deserved it.
Either way, it didn’t matter. I just needed to get it out of my head and move forward. But it sucked. Not just because I liked the job, but because I was actually earning a decent amount, and living in the city, it was hard enough to find a good paying position.
Once I was outside of the building, I felt those tears start to rise up again, but I refused to let them fall. Oh, I wanted to break down right then and there, but why should I let a man like Graham Morgan control me like that?
I walked to the curb and lifted my arm, hailing a cab. Once in the back with the door shut, I leaned against the weird-smelling leather seat with the numerous tears in it and breathed out. The cab driver was this young guy with piercings all over his ears and face and tattoos that snaked up his neck. He looked over his shoulder at me with an expectant expression.
“West 42nd and Bowery, please.” I heard the dejection in my voice but gave him a smile regardless, my half-attempt for trying to act like things were fine.
I had no idea what I was going to do for work. It had taken me a lot of frustrated time just to find that secretary position.
I reached in my purse for my cell, digging around inside until I felt it brush against my fingers. My purse was a damn Buick, but no way I was going to leave the house without having a spare stick of deodorant, some lotion, gum, tampons, pads, and anything else I might need if I ever got stranded anywhere. I brought up Michael’s contact, hit New Message, and started typing.
Me: Yeah, so the shittiest of shit things happened to me today.
Michael was my best friend since childhood, and I swore my mother thought we would get married one day, but when he came out gay, that put a stop to all incessant questions about us dating. Although I knew he was gay early on, until he was the one to come out, I just kept my mouth shut and smiled when anybody asked if we were together.