I was going to put out a contract hit on that perverted jerk.

"I think the poor girl needs to be left alone. She’s getting married in like three weeks. No woman is going to cancel her own wedding just because the groom's a douche."

I stepped out of the shadows and pulled out a chair at the long conference table, trying to mask my trepidation. Evan's eyes snapped up and met mine as a hushed, "Oh shit," fell from his lips.

"Or, Evan, you could squint really hard and find that your penis is really small and realize that I wouldn't give someone like you the time of day," I snapped, kicking my foot into the back of his chair.

Oh. Oh my God. That just came out of my mouth.

Jameson leaned forward, eyes snapping to mine, and belted out a hearty laugh. He glanced at Evan. "That's the best thing I've ever heard a woman say to you. She's got a pair of balls, at least."

"Yeah, but not as small as his," I pointed at Evan. I think I may have even snarled a bit.

My standoff with Evan ended as Remington Holt strode in and headed right for the head of the conference table. Silence followed him. A coffee and a sesame seed bagel was placed in front of him, which he ignored as he promptly began his presentation. I could barely keep my eyes open. I'd been through this presentation no less than ten times; heck, I put most of it together checking freaking facts. My eyes scanned the room and I realized everyone was in rapt attention. Everyone except me, who sat rigid in my chair, spinning a pen through my fingers. It never fell. I just continuously looped and entwined the pen through each finger, over and over. Repeatedly, as Mr. Holt droned on and on and on.

Until he just stopped.

He stopped abruptly, waited a few seconds, then said, "Well, well, well. Miss Willington, I'm so glad that you could make it to my little conference thirty minutes late, the one my company has paid your airfare and hotel for. Did you have a rough night?"

I raised my eyes to the doorway where Sophia stood in the sexiest outfit I'd ever seen her in. What the heck? This was InTrend not Playboy magazine.

"Sorry, sir, I had a lead on something and was on the phone with a contact," she bragged, pulling out a chair across from me and sitting. Cheeks bright red and beaming, eyebrows arched up to her hairline.

She crossed her long legs under the table, kicked me, and smiled. "Sir, I have been in contact with Alex Kavon. Theeee Alex Kavon!" Sophia was desperate to make her spot in this magazine. Pulling the Kavon card was beyond ambitious. Alex Kavon was a one-man powerhouse. Never seen before, but had a name for himself as the number one blogger/entertainment online magazine founder that ever existed. His blog, his fans, and his connections to the music and film industry were immense. Yet no one had ever had contact with him. No one.

And I knew she was a lying sack of crap. She was probably late because of Trager; that idiot always slept through his alarm. If it weren’t for me waking him up every damn day, he'd sleep until noon, wait for his mother to dress him, and serve him smiley-faced pancakes.

Remington interrupted my thoughts. "Hopefully your contact with the infamous Mr. Kavon is morally sound and not of the same nature you have with our in-house mail service."

Whoa. I tried not to laugh but failed miserably.

"And, really, Miss Willington, the worst part about you being late for my meeting is the half-drunk iced coffee in your hands."

Sophia gasped. Jameson and Evan smirked.

Me? I burst out in uncontrollable laughter. The kind that you can't stop even though you desperately want to.

"Shut your mouth," Sophia hissed under her breath. The room went dead silent, like one of those sudden, anticipation filled moments in a dramatic movie. That old western standoff music sounded in my head. And I tried; I tried to stop. I even slapped my hand across my mouth and pushed my chair away from the table, but the giggles spilled over my fingertips like an overflowing fountain, flooding the room. "I'm not the one who has a problem with keeping things shut," I snipped through hysterical laughter.

All hell broke loose in the conference room then. People were tearing each other apart with words until Remington yelled at the top of his lungs that the conference would resume after we all grew up, promptly at nine the next morning. We filed out of the room with our tails between our legs.

"That was the most unprofessional thing I have ever seen," Jameson snapped, glaring at Sophia. I stopped abruptly, watching his cold eyes as they flitted from hers to mine.

Of course, he was right. "I apologize, Mr. Holt. It won't happen again," I said through clenched teeth, hoping that my voice would somehow hide my rage and shame.

My eyes widened as Jameson gently nudged the back of his hand to my elbow and escorted me through the lobby into the elevator, then pushed the button to the fifth floor where all the business suites were. "You have nothing to be sorry for, Miss Novak," he murmured as the elevator doors closed between us. "You're not the office slut around here."

What?

I stood stunned in the elevator, eyes averted to the floor, my fingers fumbling with the gray and purple card key of my room.

Yeah well, enough slut slamming, because maybe if I were more of a slut, Kevin wouldn't have had to look to someone who was.

4

Lexa

“First thing I said to my date: Ima be honest, don’t know where you want me to look. That shirt shows off your boobs…I ended up eating alone.” @Kavon #CheckPlease

The cheater was in my room. I stared at him through teary eyes.

All I wanted to do was throw myself on the hotel bed and scream into the pillows. But no—as soon as I swiped my card key and opened the door, Kevin was there in my face, all puppy-dog eyed, begging, "We need to talk, baby."

Baby? That was the same thing he was calling Sophia when he was smacking her ass two nights before. My hands immediately covered my mouth. Visions of him and his little friend mixed with a thunderous hangover headache made me almost vomit.

His hand touched my back and I spun around, shoving him away. "Don't you dare touch me," I snapped, stepping back, feeling a bit of adolescent delight in watching him stumble away.

Catching his footing, he raised his hands above his head in mock innocence. "I've thought this through and I've come to realize now—to swear to you—it was nothing," the cheating ass pleaded, walking closer and grabbing me gently by the shoulders, ushering me deeper into the room. "I swear I was just scared of being with one woman for the rest of my life. I’m twenty-seven. What if I’m making the wrong choice, what if…?”

"Then you shouldn’t have asked me to marry you, idiot."

"You wanted me to."

"That’s why you asked? Because I was perfectly happy with having a nice boyfriend I could trust, not a husband who cheats. You should have never asked me!"

He chuckled as if this was just a little incident to him. "Honestly, this is just a silly case of cold feet. You," he said, raising his eyes to the ceiling, "you have been so busy with dress fittings, food tastings, and registries, it just seemed like you were too busy for my needs..."

"Fuck you. Fuck you, fuckyoufuckyou! I was left alone to put together this stupid wedding. With your mother calling me up every day, inviting all her friends, and making a list of baby names for me. Baby names, Kevin!"