Mitch Darcy plays defense for Chicago. I met him through Alex. One night after the game his wife was there, and we started talking. She asked what I did for a living, so I told her. She seemed surprised that I worked a job other than servicing Alex’s amazing dick.

Two weeks later, Mrs. Darcy made an appointment and specifically asked for me. Mr. Stroker took a risk by letting me draw up a proposal for the account. Of course he has to review it before anything can be implemented, but it’s an opportunity I wouldn’t have without all my connections. Those sometimes make me unpopular at work.

“This is a big deal, Violet.” Mr. Stroker says, tapping his pen against the folder.

“Yes, sir.”

“You’re aware that Darcy renewed his contract for five more years at four million a year.”

“Yes, sir. He also has endorsements with Power Juice and Sports Mind totaling another two million annually for the next three years.”

“Do you think you’ll be ready to present this to the Darcys next week?”

I sit up straighter. “You want me to present?”

“His wife is rather insistent it be you.”

“But I’ve never presented to a client this big before.”

“You’ve been managing Miller’s account for the past year without an issue,” he argues.

Stroker is referring to my stepbrother, Buck, whose real name is Miller. Everyone has recently started calling him by his given name, but it’s an adjustment for me. I’m not quite there yet.

Usually the accounts I handle are half a million or less. The Darcys’ portfolio is far more significant. Way bigger than anything I’ve touched, apart from Buck’s accounts, and I’ve always had Mr. Stroker look at those before I make any kind of change. I don’t want to be responsible for screwing up Buck’s fortune.

“You’ve got a handle on it. Why don’t you call them and set up a meeting for next week. I’m open most mornings.”

“Okay, great. I’ll consult their game schedule and see what works best.”

“Perfect. You arrange it, check the notes I’ve made on the PowerPoint, and at the end of the week—say, Friday afternoon—I’ll set aside an hour and you can do a dry run for me so you feel prepared. How does that sound?”

“That sounds amazing, Mr. Stroker.”

“It’s just William, Violet. You can drop the formality now.”

He’s told me this before, but I find his last name entertaining. “Of course. Right, William.”

He gives Randy Balls, another one of Alex’s teammates, a run for his money with the dirty names.

“Great. Three o’clock Friday afternoon is open for me. Book the conference room with Edna on your way out.” He passes over the folder and picks up the phone, which means I’m dismissed.

I thank him and stop to set things up with his assistant on the way back to my cubicle.

Charlene is sitting at her desk, chewing her nails and pretending to do some kind of research. When she sees me she grabs my arm and yanks me into her cubicle. “Why aren’t you crying? Didn’t you get fired?”

“No. Stroker didn’t can my ass.”

Charlene sighs with relief. “I’m so sorry. He rarely comes down this way.” It’s true. Junior accountants usually only see the boss-man in the conference room on meeting Monday, which was this morning. “Let’s never take pictures like that again while we’re at work.”

“Agreed. We should have waited until I got home. Then we could’ve posed the beaver on the bed so it looks like he’s taking me from behind, or holding my boobs.”

“Such good ideas. So what did Stroker say?”

“I’m presenting to Mitch Darcy and his wife next week.”

“You’re what?” she practically screeches this, so anyone within earshot, which is most of the office, peeks their head over the edge of their cube wall.

“It’s okay, everyone. I told Charlene I’m thinking about going vegan.”

Jimmy seems to have returned from his coffee break. He looks suspicious, and rightfully so—I’m the first one to order a Philly cheesesteak when he gets takeout—but he’s on the phone, so he goes back to his call. The rest of the office is used to our ridiculousness, so they resume whatever they were doing, too.

I lower my voice to a whisper. “I get to present.”

“That’s a big account,” Charlene whispers back.

“I know.”

“That’s amazing.”

I know she means it, but I recognize the wistful look in her eyes. We’re close, but we’re still competing with each other, and with Jimmy and Dean, for a senior accountant position when it comes open. Being allowed to present to one of the bigger clients gives me an advantage over everyone else.

The people who don’t like me at the office are really going to hate me now.

2

Cardboard Cutouts

are Terrifying

VIOLET

I get a text from Alex at the end of the day telling me they’re still hours from home. I’m super disappointed. And I swear not just because I won’t get to have awesome sex after a week with only Buddy the Beaver—my super-special vibrator that actually looks like a beaver—to take care of my orgasm needs. As cute as it is, it’s a poor replacement for Alex’s dick. And the rest of Alex, too. I miss him.

Charlene checks her phone, smiling secretly. I imagine she has messages from her boyfriend, who happens to be Alex’s best friend and teammate, Darren Westinghouse.