I stood in the green room with my skirt still bunched at my hip and his taste still in my mouth.
My hands would not stop shaking, so I pressed them flat against the mirror and let the cold do its thing.
Dominic: Fix your hair. You look like someone fucked you in a closet.
He said it from the doorway, flat and bored, like his hand had not been under my skirt four minutes ago.
Dominic: Keys.
Sasha: What?
Dominic: Your company keys. Office, supply room, garage card. All of it.
I dug the ring out of my clutch and slapped it into his palm hard enough to sting.
He closed his fist around it and did not look down once.
Dominic: You answer to me now. Every door you open, I open first.
Sasha: That's not how a job works, you arrogant bastard.
Dominic: It is now. I don't hand keys to a building to someone I can't trust inside it.
Sasha: I didn't put that slide up.
Dominic: Then bring me the name of whoever did. Until then you're a liability with a nice ass.
I walked back into the ballroom with my chin up and my keys gone.
The gold lights still looked expensive. The laughing had moved on to somebody else's bad night.
Then I saw them.
Britt had her wrap over one arm and Grayson's jacket over the other, and his hand was low on her back like it belonged there.
Britt: Oh, she's still here. I thought Dominic would have thrown her out by now.
Sasha: You had my tablet, Britt. You had my key. Say it out loud.
Grayson: Give it up, Sash. You're done here.
He didn't even slow down. He said it over his shoulder like I was a bill he had already paid.
Britt: Don't call me. Don't text. Don't come by. I mean it.
She had been my best friend for six years. Six years, and she said it like she was canceling a gym membership.
The doors swung shut behind them. Through the glass I watched him open her car door.
She laughed at something. She looked happy. She looked free.
My eyes went hot. That was the worst part.
Not the shame. The tears, pushing up behind my eyes like they had a right to be there.
I bit the inside of my cheek until I tasted copper.
Not here. Not for them. Not one fucking tear.
I counted the lights on the chandelier instead. Forty-two. I got to forty-two.
Dominic: Don't cry. Not over that.
He was beside me with a glass he wasn't drinking, watching the doors like they owed him money.
Sasha: I'm not crying.
Dominic: No. You're not.
Dominic: You have until Monday. Bring me a name and I'll decide what you're worth.
He walked away with my keys in his pocket and my whole life in his fist.
Britt had my best years. Grayson had my worst night. Dominic had my keys.
And every single one of them thought that made me theirs.
They wanted me to break in public. They wanted me to cry and beg and be the joke.
Fine. Monday, I'd bring him a name.
And then we'd all find out who the fuck the joke really was.