Half an hour later, I stepped into the glittering lobby of Grand Hearst Hotels. I wasn’t here for a doctor’s appointment at all. I was here for a job interview.

I’d passed the first interview rounds with flying colors over the past couple weeks, and today was the moment of truth. This was the final interview—a one-on-one with the CEO himself, so I was trying to stay calm. Trying not to get too excited about the prospect of freedom.

I tucked my Wolf Industries employee badge into my purse and took the elevator to the top floor.

“Are you Miss Johnson?” A receptionist greeted me the moment I stepped off the elevator car.

“Yes, that’s me.”

“Excellent,” she said, standing to her feet. “Follow me. Mr. Hearst is ready to see you now.”

I followed her down the bright white halls as women in heels rushed by us on the other side. I silently envisioned myself walking down these same halls next week, smiling at whatever the hell everyone here seemed so happy about all the time. 

The receptionist opened the door to a large office that took up half the floor, and inside, the CEO—an attractive, grey-haired man—smiled at me as I approached his desk.

“Good morning, Miss Johnson!” Mr. Hearst stood up and extended his hand. “It’s great to finally meet you in person after all these interview rounds.”

“You as well, sir.” I shook his hand and took a seat.

“You have quite the portfolio, I must say.” He glanced at his computer screen and tapped a few keys on his keyboard. “You were first in your class from Yale in undergrad, and first in your class at Harvard Law.” He tapped his keyboard again. “You completed consecutive summers at some pretty outstanding law firms, and now you work at Wolf Industries. Why aren’t you working at a law firm?”

“Most of them were downsizing during the recession, sir.”

“Ah, I see.” He slid his reading glasses down the bridge of his nose. “Well, I’m still beyond impressed with your resume. Hell, I don’t think we have anyone here who was first in their law class, from an Ivy-league at that.

I smiled and softly tapped my foot against the floor. I waited for him to say the four words I’d been waiting to hear all year: When can you start?

I reminded myself that I needed to hesitate a few seconds before blurting out, “Right fucking now.”

Don’t say fucking. Don’t say fucking. Just say, right now ...

“After carefully considering everything that you would potentially bring to my company, Miss Johnson,” he said, after several seconds of silence. “I think I can—”

“I can start today.” I couldn’t help myself. “Like, right now. I’m willing to share an office, I’m willing to work overtime and weekends, and I’ll happily accept twenty percent less than my current salary.”

“Well, that’s the thing. I can’t hire you, Miss Johnson.” He shut his laptop. “As impressive as you are, I don’t think you would fit in here.”

What? “Well, why can’t you just give me a chance—even a temporary one, and find out for yourself? I’ve gotten along just fine with every interviewer I’ve met here.”

He sighed. “Okay, look. I can’t hire you because I don’t want to be blackballed by Mr. Wolf.”

“Come again?” I was confused. “What does Mr. Wolf have to do with anything?”

“Everything,” he said, crossing his arms. “Your resume says that you’re an executive assistant at his company. It doesn’t specify that you work directly under him.”

“Everyone works directly under him.”

“You know what I mean.” A worried look crossed his face. “You’re his executive assistant. You’re the Emily everyone has to go through to get to him. Like, that’s you, and you’re sitting in my office like that’s not the biggest conflict of interest on fucking Wall Street. You’re his right hand, for Christ’s sake.”

“Mr. Wolf has nothing to do with your company, Mr. Hearst.”

“Actually, he does,” he said. “Five years ago, he invested the final thirty percent we needed into our newest chain of Bed and Breakfast locations. He also greased some wheels for us with the city zoning department so we could get our new high-rise built closer to The High Line. I won’t dare pay him back by stealing his executive assistant. Crossing him is a death wish, and everyone in this city knows it.”

I let out a breath, unsure of what to say.

“Besides,” Mr. Hearst said. “When he called me, he made it perfectly clear that if I even thought about hiring you or giving you something as small as a consideration, he would, in his own words, sue the fuck out of me.”

I felt all the color leaving my face. “You told him I was here?”

“Not at all. He called me a few minutes ago, right before you arrived.” He opened his drawer and pulled out a sheet of paper. “He also sent me a copy of the loyalty statement that’s a part of your employment contract.” He handed it to me. “He requested that I print a new copy for you, so you can have it as a personal reminder.”

My jaw dropped to the floor.

“I’m sure I’ll be seeing you again whenever we wrap up the Berkshire deal with Wolf Industries next month.” He stood to his feet and extended his hand once more. “It was a pleasure meeting the Emily who Mr. Wolf speaks so highly about all the time. I hope you’ll tell him that I was kind, and that I let you down quite nicely.”

I stood to my feet and left the room, not bothering to shake his hand or say goodbye. I was beyond pissed that he wasted my time and enraged that Mr. Wolf blocked me from getting a new job.

How did he even know I was coming here?

I stepped onto the elevator and bit my bottom lip to prevent myself from screaming. I didn’t need a personal copy of that loyalty statement to know what it said. It practically promised that I would never seek another job until long after I’d left his company, and that I’d never speak  ill about him in the press.

I should’ve known better.

I was a foolish twenty-six year old who was high on hopes and dreams when I signed it, thinking that a four-year term would fly right by. That working for the number one man on Wall Street would make me an asset to any law firm in the country once I was finished.  But now I was a far less foolish twenty-eight year old and two years of my term felt like ten. I was also certain that the new, grey hairs growing at the back of my head were directly attributable to working with him.

Stepping out of the Hearst lobby and into a fresh sheet of New York’s autumn rain, I held up my umbrella and hailed my town car. I needed to vent about this to Vinnie on the drive back, to add this incident to my never-ending list of shit this man had put me through. But when the town car stopped in front of me, I realized that Vinnie was not the driver.

The back door slowly opened, and a set of Italian leather shoes hit the pavement. Mr. Wolf emerged from the back seat and held the door open, looking at me as my cheeks flushed red. 

“Are you going to get in, or are you going to stare at me for the rest of the day?”

I didn’t answer. I just let down my umbrella and slid to the far seat.

“Did your doctor say that everything was okay?” he asked, as he sat across from me.

“No, actually. He confirmed that the pain in my ass will probably worsen over the next two years.”

“How unfortunate.” He smiled. “You can take us back to our office now, Lyle.”

The driver shook his head and rolled up the partition before pulling onto Fifth Avenue.

Mr. Wolf’s stunning blue eyes were still on mine and his lips slowly curved into that sexy-ass smirk that I’d grown to half love, half loathe.

“You know,” he said, pulling a small green gift box from his breast-pocket. “I find it quite amusing that you would cheat on me. On our two-year anniversary, no less.” He set the gift on my lap, but I didn’t touch it. It was going into the desk drawer with the other anniversary gift he gave me last year. And the second we returned to the office, I was taking that damn loyalty contract and my employment contract to the law offices across the street to see if they could find any loopholes.

It’s either that or get myself fired ...

The town car parked in the private garage at Wolf Industries, and Mr. Wolf held the door open for me once more. He led me to the elevator, and when the doors closed, he looked down at me and lowered his voice.

“I would highly suggest cancelling the other three interviews you have scheduled for this week as well,” he said. “The ones at Deutsche, Goldman, & The Lehman Brothers. That is, unless you want me to continue personally cancelling them for you.”

The elevator doors sprung open on the top floor and he stepped out, slowly looking me up and down one last time. “Oh, and Emily?”

“Yes?”

“Happy anniversary.”