And despite all the trouble it had caused, I couldn’t seem to shake the thoughts of that night. I wasn’t sure whether it had been because of any special skills or, ahem, equipment on his part or the illicitness of the affair, but it had been so damn good. Who knew a Comic-Con cosplay nerd—and Draco employee, apparently—could be so incredible in the sack? Or maybe the handful of guys I’d been with before this had been that bad.

Every day I spent at Draco, I found myself idly wondering about male co-workers I passed in hallways or delivered random items to—had it been him? Or him? The only thing I knew about the guy was that he was tall and filled out a Falco the Bounty Hunter suit very, very well. And he’d sounded so sexy when he whispered low in that flat, toneless voice.

Oh, and that his manhandle had been huge. I hadn’t forgotten that either. How could I?

The boss from hell, along with the constant worry over Falco, was driving me insane. Therefore, it should have come as no surprise that one particularly awful day, a week later, I almost broke down right at my desk. Susan had to call my name several times to get my attention.

Finally, I blinked and sat up straight.

“Hey…what’s wrong? Are you okay?” she said.

I turned to her. Susan was a plain-looking but sweet and funny lady in her mid-thirties. She had short blond hair and green eyes. And she wore quirky earrings for, what seemed, every day of the year. I hadn’t seen her repeat a pair yet. She’d explained that she chose them to reflect her mood for the day. Currently, they were two miniature baby pacifiers—one pink and one blue. Yesterday, she and her husband heard the heartbeat for the first time and she was ecstatic, showing everyone unreadable pictures of her ultrasound.

“I don’t know how much more of this I can take…” I said in a shaky voice.

She sighed. “Well, he’s generally not very easy on the interns, if that makes you feel any better.”

It didn’t.

“Last weekend, I don’t think an hour went by that he didn’t text me for something. Forwarding stuff to him or researching something he could do himself with Google and a few keywords.”

“Hmm. Maybe he just wants to make sure you’re learning everything you need?”

I bit down the frustration. Every hour, practically on the hour? “Does he usually have you take his car to get washed, pick up his dry-cleaning and scream at you if the coffee you bring him isn’t hot enough?”

Susan frowned. “He’s never asked me to do any of those things, but he probably feels it’s his responsibility to make sure you have lots of things to do.”

I gulped. The other morning, he actually pulled out a kitchen thermometer and took the temperature of the coffee I’d brought him. “One hundred forty, Weiss? What is this, a cool, refreshing summer drink? I told you extra hot. No stopping to chat with your BFFs on the way in here while you are holding my coffee. Jeez, why don’t you just throw ice cubes in it while you’re at it?”

I’d bared my teeth in that now familiar ‘I want to kill you dead’ long-suffering smile, picked up the coffee and exited the room, tossing it in the nearest trash can. Blinking back tears, I’d rushed out the door to go back to Starbucks. I’d had to run in my heels to get it back to the office fast enough and even that hadn’t worked.

Then on the rush back the second time, I broke my heel mid-run and the coffee—and me—went flying. The third time was the charm, but after that, I had to lock myself in the bathroom to cry for a good half-hour.

From that day on, I packed a pair of sneakers in my desk especially for coffee runs and developed a special run-jog so the steaming liquid wouldn’t slosh over the top and burn my hands. Note to self: bring gloves to pack in desk alongside sneakers.

“You look exhausted, you poor thing,” Susan continued.

“I’ve been staying up late preparing the files on each investment banker.”

She frowned, fiddling with her anti-nausea wristband. “What files?”

“Well, Jordan wanted me to create files with contact information on all the investment bankers, the legal terms of their contract agreements—”

Susan looked at me like I’d grown another head. “He has all that already.” My face clouded and she seemed to be hurrying to cover for him. “But…maybe he’s afraid his info is incomplete and you are double-checking everything for him. Rumor has it the IPO thing isn’t going well because of this sex-tape scandal.”

My eyes grew wide and my stomach dipped. “Uh. Really?”