Page 1 of Hollow House

I typed aggressively at my computer in my little cubicle. The edits for the article I’d been working on were due before close of business.

The headline, Pumpkin Spice Season , felt too cliché. I could do better.

It was that time of year again. Already, the air had turned crisp, and I found myself breaking out my sweaters. Today’s was black with tiny skulls on it, one I knew my boss would hate.

Fuck his opinion.Darren lost any semblance of respect the second I realized what a douche he was, a creep with a habit of spending far too long looking at my ass.

The thought completely distracted me from the work in front of me. I needed a reset. I stood from my tiny desk chair, one that made my back ache after sitting at it all day.

The kitchen wasn’t far from where I sat, and I knew someone else had brought in apple cider donuts for the office. A sweet treat had to be enough to get me back on track.Voices hit me as I reached the doorway…

Fuck.

It was far too late to turn around. I already stepped inside and was met with side glances from two women chatting.

“Do you really think you’ll be invited this year…” one trailed off.

I tried not to look like I was listening as I found the box of donuts on a nearby table. A pile of napkins sat beside it, and I used one to carry my treat.

“Of course. I did everything I could. Fucked every wealthy man possible in this small town, built a bigger social media presence. Shit, if I don’t catch their eye, no one will,” she said firmly.

“Yeah but Hollow House is nearly impossible to get in to. No one even knows what an invite looks like.”

“Well, once I’m invited, Darren will promote me. He was practically salivating at the idea of an exclusive inside look.”

I rolled my eyes and turned away from them. I didn’t have time to be distracted by parties or whims. I had my sights set on a bigger ideal. I wanted to get out of the small town and move to a big city.

Dani from Marketing, however, had started a blogging page online and grew a rather large audience over the past year.

It’d been great for the magazine we worked at, practically free advertising.

But Halloween was only a day away, and that left almost no time at all for her to find an invite to Hollow House.

Everyone wanted an invite, but nearly no one received one. Most of the rumors surrounding what happened within were just that: rumors, started by people with nothing better to do and all the time in the world.

A full pot of coffee sat freshly brewed on the counter, and as much as I wanted to hurry back to my work, I knew caffeine could do me some good.

I grabbed one of the paper cups from next to the machine and poured some inside. The fridge had multiple options for creamer, and I settled on a pumpkin pie flavored one. The coffee lightened as I poured a splash in, and Dani and the other woman droned on.

I moved to leave the kitchen and stumbled, splashing hot coffee on myself. My foot hit something solid, and I turned to find the two women snickering as Dani pulled her foot back in.

“Shit,” I muttered, realizing I had coffee on myself.

What were we, fucking petty teenagers? Some people needed to grow up. It wasn’t the first time I found myself the target of their cruelty.

I opened my mouth but thought better of it, leaving the kitchen silently instead. Sooner or later, they’d grow bored of me, realize they peaked in high school, and the real world wouldn’t tolerate their shit.

When I returned to my cubicle, I tried to refocus on naming the article I’d created.

“Sloane Hill!” my boss’ pestering voice called from his office.

Before I could make my way from my cubicle to his door, his head poked out. The man locked eyes with me, and I sighed.

Whatever he wanted could wait, but he’d never allow it. In his mind, everything he wanted was an emergency, more important than the piece I had pulled up to edit.

I walked slowly over to his office and dreaded it the moment his door shut behind us. His hand found its way to my shoulder, and I cringed from his touch.

“Have a seat,” he said, his voice like nails on a chalkboard.

Three years, I put up with it.Three years, I had worked tirelessly to climb my way up the ranks of the local magazine I worked for.

He was a dick, always spending far too long with the younger women who worked beneath him, the lingering touches, the excuses for time alone.

The rumors that floated through the halls should have been enough to have him out of a job, but that would require someone believing them.

I kept my head down, did my work, and steered clear of him when I could. All I needed was enough in my portfolio to apply to the bigger magazines, my ticket out of this small town.

Right now, though, I was stuck in the cheap office chair on the opposite side of his desk, uncomfortably shifting beneath his glare.

I fidgeted with my V-neck sweater, trying to shift it to deter his wandering eyes, but they immediately dropped to my thighs exposed by the black miniskirt I wore.

I cursed under my breath, wishing I was bundled up more.

“It’s time for your performance review,” he said, folding his hands on his desk.

“It’s October?” I questioned. “Isn’t that in another two months?”

“I’m doing an impromptu one for you,” he said with a shrug.

“Is that even legal?” I muttered.

“First part of your review: lacks respect for authority. You need to get a grip on this attitude you carry around the office.”

My hands clenched into firsts beside me, my ass sliding to the edge of the seat, ready to storm out. I didn’t have to put up with this insanity.

“Secondly, your performance lately has been lackluster,” he added.

“Excuse me?” I gritted out through clenched teeth.

“Lackluster,” he clicked, exaggerating with his tongue.

I cringed into the seat, wishing I could bleach my mind. Fucking creep.

“I complete all my work on time, I’ve taken on extra projects, and I have had zero negative feedback,” I started.

“You play it safe,” he said with another shrug. “There’s nothing spectacular about that.”

I almost growled, the low noise forming deep in my throat. The man who sat on his ass all day and harassed women for fun was critiquing my work product?

Fuck, no.

“We’re done here,” I said firmly as I stood.

“Sit,” he ordered, his tone impatient.

I stared him down, my skin on fire at the demand.

I didn’t sit, but I didn’t leave.

“One call to management, and you’re gone,” he hissed. “Don’t be an ungrateful bitch. I’m trying to help you.”

The smug smile on his face made me want to punch him square in the middle of it. Instead, I clenched my fists, digging my nails into my palms. A single deep breath was enough for me to realize he’d follow through on the threat. The turnover in our department was proof enough.

“What do you want me to do?” I gritted out, still standing.

“Be a bit more interesting,” he suggested.

“How do you expect me to do that?”

He leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his short brown hair. The movement caused his shirt to rise and stomach to poke out a bit from the bottom. He raised a brow at me, and it took seconds of me staring blankly at him to realize what he was suggesting.

He couldn’t be serious…

“The most successful women here do what it takes to get to the top,” he said, his hand moving toward his zipper.

“I’m not—" I started.

“The miniskirts you wear, the slutty pink strands in that long, dark hair,” he said, his gaze turning predatory. “You’ve been practically begging me to notice.”

“Excuse me?” I asked, anger rising deep in my chest.

No fucking way. I wouldn’t blow the guy to keep my position.

“Well, you have my attention now, Sloane. The question is, will you do what it takes to stay here?”

Creative new expletives raced through my mind, and I sorted through which I wanted to use first. Was this how the women here moved their way up? What a fucking sick and twisted cruelty!

Did Dani get promoted like this? Was Hollow House really her ticket to another promotion?—

I stopped the thought there, a new idea forming.

“I’ll write about Hollow House,” I spat out before I could stop.

“Dani is—” he started.

“Incapable of writing and still hasn’t received an invite,” I pointed out, folding my arms.

The bitch deserved a bit of karma and I deserved the chance to rid myself of the toxic workplace I’d called a job for three years. They all deserved each other at this point.

Darren folded his hands in his lap, no longer reaching for his zipper. His attention fully settled on me.

For a moment, I thought maybe I did screw myself. Maybe quitting would’ve been easier. At least then, I could leave on my own terms without being kicked to the curb.

“Fine,” Darren answered. “If you get me an inside scoop on Hollow House, you can have the promotion I know you’ve been waiting for.”

Not quite what I was working for, but it definitely would help my plan to get out.

“I expect the article in my inbox on November 1.”

An impossible turnaround, of course.

“Fine,” I said flatly.

I turned to walk out, not willing to waste time, ready to get to work on the impossible task I just assigned myself.

“Good fucking luck,” Darren chuckled on my way out.