Pushing my chair back from my desk, I turn so she can’t see how pale my face has gone. I ask her to read it again so I can hear it and formulate some kind of cogent thought before my head explodes.

“Dear Miss Sharp,” she starts reading with a distinctly snotty tone, which doesn’t help. “It has come to my attention that among the assets of Lynx Magazine is an as-yet unpublished story about the brokerage firm of Tilden-Jennings. As you know, by court order Lynx remains a part of Sandstone Ventures and you are subject to your original contract. Part of that contract stipulates Sandstone’s ability to make and override business decisions we feel are prudent to the long-term health and profit of Sandstone Ventures. As such, I declare the Tilden-Jennings story to be detrimental to our interests—”

“His interests,” I add unhelpfully, my blood already boiling.

“Henceforth,” Janice continues reading. “I forbid you to print, use, or disseminate to anyone else the article, its research or its conclusions. This story will not be printed as long as you and Lynx Magazine remain property and have ties to Sandstone Ventures. Sincerely Yours, Mark L. Stone, Acting CEO, Sandstone Ventures.

“Can you believe this shit?” I ask Janice.

“He has a written note on the back, in case you didn’t see it,” Janice adds helpfully. She turns the paper around and on the back written again in Mark’s precise script are two words. “Bury it.”

Janice places the paper down on my desk and gently walks toward the door.

“Tell Justin to go home,” I tell her. “I’m not going to have anything for him today.”

“Yes ma’am,” she says quietly.

Submission, subjugation, surrender, where does it end? When does what’s good for me become what’s bad for me, and how will I know when I’ve crossed that line? What am I giving up, and why would I? All the questions come swirling around me so fast I can’t answer any one of them. But I don’t have to because raw blinding anger is soon replacing any rational or philosophical thought in my head.

“Dear Mr. Stone,” I write in an email sent to both his personal and business addresses. “You’ve got a lot of nerve telling me what to print and what I can’t. Haven’t you heard of freedom of the press? You can’t stop me, and you shouldn’t try. What are you going to do? Sue me? Go ahead; I’ve got about two-hundred dollars left in savings. Fire me? Been there. Arrest me? Done that! Get out of your f**king ivory tower and explain yourself or I’ll not only publish this story, I’ll publish this letter and burn what’s left of your business down!”

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I sign it “J. Sharp” just to let him know that no lovey-dovey conversation is going to happen over this travesty. If he wants to play ball in my court, then he better come equipped with a helmet, and a cup!

I fume and stomp around the office. I try to think of any way to appeal this decision without ruining my career. Just what do the Stone brothers have against a girl making a living anyway? I alternate between fury, self-pity, and revenge every few seconds. It takes forty-five minutes for my email to chime a response. It’s not very long.

“I will be at your office at seven p.m. to discuss. Be alone.”

I distract myself with other duties until five when the staff starts filing out. They all have a comfortable smile because the sight of me clomping in my office in circles and pulling out my hair tells them everything is back to the way it used to be. I force Janice to leave at six. The elevator dings at ten minutes to seven.

I run behind my desk, pull out some papers and pretend to be working on them when he walks through my office door, closing it behind me.

Mark walks in, his eyes on fire and his jaw clamped shut. “Who do you think you are?”

“Me? Who the hell do you think you are?” If he wants to come in here with a head of steam, I plan to meet him just the same way.

“I’m the CEO of Sandstone Ventures and you will listen to what I say!” Mark hisses. His tie is hanging open around his neck and his top button is undone. I can tell he’s had a tough day and I’m sure my tirade isn’t making it any nicer. But dammit, I worked too hard to let him do this to me.

“You’re only the President because I helped you get rid of your ass**le brother so you can take the reins. And what do you do? What is your first act in charge?” I pick up his letter and fling it at him. “This!”

He dodges the letter and turns on me in a fury.

“Oh yes, Julia. You were such a help in saving my company. What did you do? Get arrested not once but twice? Tip off Blake and everyone else on the planet that we were trying to gather evidence and accuse me of f**king Valerie James! You were a big help.”

“You were f**king Valerie James,” I say completely losing sight of the fact we are fighting over the Wall Street story.

“In the past! Now, I’m f**king you!”

“Not anymore. No story, no f**ky. Is that how you like it?”

“Look.” He turns, trying to be rational although for a moment there I thought I saw him give a quick smile. “I know those people. I work with them. I can’t be a party to their downfall. This story is bigger than me or you or Lynx or Sandstone. A lot of people are going to get hurt.”

“People who break the law and ruin people’s retirement accounts need to be hurt,” I counter almost catching my breath. “Besides, a magazine isn’t a charity.”

“Well you wouldn’t know a hell of a lot about charity, or grace, would you?”

“Get out. Get the f**k out of my office.”

“It isn’t your office. Not really. It’s Sandstone’s isn’t it? Or did you miss it when the judge said that?”

“Get out!” I scream and reach for the vase of flowers he sent me. I throw it and he turns just quick enough to block the shot with his shoulder, sending the vase careening into a bookshelf and shattering.

“That is it.” He’s got that look. He’s back in control again, and he’s about to take control of me.

Pressing and pushing me back toward the wall, he crowds and presses me until we are only about an inch apart. I feel his breath, his heart seems like it is pounding through his chest and when he traps my hands and holds me against the wall I lose all control.

He kisses me roughly, his lips pushing, surging, forcing his tongue between mine. I resist just long enough to realize I don’t want to resist. Wrapping my arms around him I kiss back as he drags me to the center of the room. He twirls me, pushing me hard, and strategically grabbing my arms until my desktop is all I see. His hand pushes me down hard against the desk, his other runs up my thigh, setting me ablaze.




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