Money Shot (81 page)

I shake my head. “No, unfortunately not. I am still looking.”

“Is that so,” he says. “Well, sadly we don’t have anything here for you at the moment. But I’m sure you won’t have too much trouble to get your foot in the door somewhere with the excellent reference we will leave you with.”

He says it with a matter of fact tone that makes it sound less like a compliment. It’s just a state, with so little enthusiasm, one could almost think he regrets saying it.

I thank him again and excuse myself to get back to work. Somehow the atmosphere between us has taken a very weird turn. Intimidating and enticing at the same time. Yet, I could enjoy it a lot more if it wasn’t Mr. Cooper, my boss who is about twenty years my senior and completely out of my league in too many ways.

Still, my heart would not calm down that day, even hours after I left his office.

Just as promised, the entire office gathers on late Thursday afternoon to celebrate the completion of my internship. I am nervous because of it the entire day and took extra care about my looks that morning. I spent so much effort on my make-up, hair and the selection of my outfit that it doesn’t go unnoticed by anyone—but the compliments just add up to my nervousness. I somehow wish everybody wouldn’t make such a big deal out of it, and yet I am the one who accelerates it by showing up as if I am going out for a date. I am wearing my favorite and most expensive white silk blouse and a tight black pencil skirt that ends shortly above my knees, accompanied by black pumps that are usually reserved for dates or special occasions. I regret my choice of shoes already. I hardly ever wear heels, and now I remember why. My feet hurt. Why all this effort?

I even made muffins. I rarely ever cook or bake, but for some reason I decided that today would be a good day to bring muffins for everyone.

Mr. Cooper loves them. He is one of many who compliments me on my appearance today, unobtrusively and perfectly appropriate in the way he says it, but still my heart flutters, accompanied by warnings sent by the brain. Where is this sudden obsession with my boss coming from? I have always found him somehow attractive, but this last week has seen my outright nervous and giddy like a little girl any time he was near me. And I can’t help but notice that he is looking extra sharp today as well.

Maybe. Those two words. Good girl. 

I have heard them before, not from him, mind you. But somehow they touched my heart in the same way they did the last time I heard them. In an entirely different situation. I was naked. Blindfolded. Bound. My hands on my back and...

“So, what did you think of that pitch last week?” Someone interrupts my heated stream of thoughts. It’s Ms. Kingsley, who somehow emerged next to me without me realizing.

“Oh, it was great,” I hastily reply. “Very informative. And you did great. I hope to be able to come up with a project like that someday.”

“And catch the big fish, huh?” Ms. Kingsley asks.

I nod. “Must have been pretty great. To land an account like that on your first try.”

She nods and takes a sip from her glass of champagne, causing me to imitate the motion, even though I feel tipsy already. So many people wanted to clink glasses with me. I must be on my third already—and I am a lightweight when it comes to alcohol.

“Yes, it does,” Ms. Kingsley eventually says. “It really does. He’s a great... client.”

“I can imagine,” I mumble, unsure of what else to say.

Luckily, Ms. Kingsley seems to feel the same way and just showed up to be nice. She excuses herself and vanishes to talk to someone else.

I remain alone, somehow standing a bit offside, even though the gathering is in my honor. I feel as if Mr. Cooper just uses occasions like this one to bring his employees closer, let them relax and have a little fun while at work. A smart move, if you ask me. Especially since he is the one who provides plenty of drinks for everyone.

As if he sensed that his name appeared in my thoughts, Mr. Cooper approaches me—with a bottle of champagne in one hand and his half empty glass in the other.

“Lacey, this is your day and your glass is almost empty, how can we let that happen,” he says, offering to refill my glass.

“Oh, I already had quite a bit of,” I utter, but he beckons for me to raise my glass.

“That’s okay, I’m just trying to get rid of the rest in this bottle,” he says in such a low voice that only I can hear it. “It’s the last bottle and I’m trying to get people to leave and go home.”

He casts me a conspiratorial smile and I oblige and raise my glass for him to empty the bottle in it. The thing is, I lack self-control when it comes to these things. I don’t really want to drink anymore, but this champagne tastes so good and I know I will want to finish it as long as there is something in my glass.

Luckily, there’s not much left in the bottle anyways.

“Thank you,” I say as Mr. Cooper has refilled my glass.

“No, thank you, Lacey,” he says, placing the empty bottle on a table next to us and raising his glass to me. “Thank you for your excellent work here.”

I clink glasses with him, but blush and shy away right afterwards.

“This agency made it easy for me,” I say. “So many talented and nice people. I learned a lot and I am more convinced than ever that this is the area for me.”

“Good, good,” Mr. Cooper says, casting me a fatherly smile. “That’s what internships are for, after all.”

I guess so. Of course, they are also good for cheap labor, but I can’t say that to him.

“We were lucky to have you;” Mr. Cooper adds. “You know, we’ve had many interns here before, even during my short time. Girls like you are hard to find.”

“Good girls?” I hear myself say—and regret it immediately. What the hell, Lacey!?

Understandably, Mr. Cooper looks at me, confused and maybe even a bit irritated. I don’t know if it is the alcohol—it most definitely is—but for some reason I decide that I need to know. I need to know if there’s something. If I am imagining this tension between us or if it is really there. There must have been a reason for him to say what he said earlier. 

I just need to know.

We look at each other. Eyes fixated, both searching for an unspoken answer. His eyes are so dark, I never noticed how dark they are. Almost black, just like his hair. It does not necessarily make them easier to read.

Finally, after moments of starring in awkward silence, he decides to speak.

“Good girls, yes,” he whispers. “They are hard to find. Very—rare.”

I stare back at him, incapable of speaking. Yes, there is something. I am not imagining it. The air between us is sizzling, charged with sexual energy. We are standing close to each other, close enough to feel each other’s body warmth. I feel an urgent desire to touch him, or to be touched by him. My heart is racing, drowning all warnings and aching for a kind of excitement and sensation I haven’t had in quite a while. 

And I can tell that he feels the same way.

Yet, there is nothing we can—or should—do about it.

“Stop that breathing,” he whispers. “It is driving me insane.”

I gasp. “Wha—?”

“Lacey!” Someone yells my name.

It’s Beth, one of the girls from the creative department.
She is not much older than me and has just escaped the terrible inter phase of graduation, internships and job hunting by landing this job. She has been my lunch buddy for most days and has also become a sort of mentor for me.

“We need to go out!” She exclaims as she comes to a halt next to me. Obviously, I am not the only one who has had quite a few glasses of champagne already. Beth’s cheeks are glowing and her smile is even wider than usually.

“Go out?” I ask, trying to focus and get back to earth.

Mr. Cooper is standing next to us, calmly observing the scene without saying a word. I wonder if he is bothered or relieved—because I sure as hell cannot decide which one I am leaning towards.

“Yes, celebrate!” Beth says. “Or well... you know, properly say goodbye. Maybe tomorrow night?”

I nod. “Yes, sure. Why not.”

“You know, since we all have to work tomorrow,” she says, side-eyeing Mr. Cooper. “Today wouldn’t be much fun.”

Mr. Cooper chuckles.

“She is right,” he says, his voice as calm and confident as ever. “You wouldn’t want to ruin our good impression of you on your last day, right?”

Again, he gives me one of those weirdly intimate winks, causing me to blush and seek for help at the bottom of my drink.

Chapter Two

The gathering comes to an end quickly afterwards, just as Mr. Cooper had hoped. Everybody scatters back to their offices, but mostly just to pick up their things and go home.

Not me, though. I have nothing and no one waiting for me at home, but still a few things I could finish up at the office. I truly want to leave a good impression and I prefer not to have a stressful last day tomorrow.

I am still a little tipsy when I return to my office, but it’s easy for me to quickly clear my head with a few glasses of cold water. I sit down at my desk, ready to finish up two little tasks I have been given for my last few days. Despite the champagne still clouding my head a little, it is surprisingly easy to get back into work. I actually manage to finish one of the tasks completely and be about half way down with the other by the time I decide to finally go home.

It is almost nine p.m. when I finally close the door behind me on what can be considered my last real work day at this agency. I am a very sentimental person when it comes to these things and I already know that leaving tomorrow will be anything but easy for me. Even today, it fells a lot different already.

I am standing in front of my office for a few moments, scanning down the hallway. It is dimly lit and completely deserted. Seeing it this quiet and empty is eerie. I have never been here late enough to see it like this.

I stroll down to our little hall. There is a seating are with a TV and a table for those who bring their lunch to eat in the office. It is sort of our break room, without actually being a room but more of an open area to relax. The kitchen is right next to it.

It is completely dark in this area, which is why I immediately notice the light coming from one of the offices down the hall to my right. Apparently I am not the only one who has still been working at this hour. 

I take a few steps to be able to see around the corner and figure out which office the light is coming from and am not surprised to see that it is coming from the one door that is always ajar. Mr. Cooper’s office.

The smartest thing to do know would be to just walk away. Shrug, turn around and leave the office.

But I go for a different option. The one that might very well get me in trouble.