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With The Vortex cleared out, it’s obvious I’m not the only staff member who was blindsided this morning.

Abby’s eyes are popped wide with a frazzled look that’s maybe a hair less crazed than my own, and Frank, our contract negotiator, looks downright disheveled.

His normally pressed shirt is rumpled at the collar and his greying hair is smashed down on one side like he just rolled off the couch in his office from a nap.

Maybe he did. I’m pretty sure while I was enjoying the date of a lifetime, he was attached to Ramona’s hip, reworking contracts all weekend.

Friday set off a domino chain triggered by signing Dalton’s team.

In one slapstick move, Ramona signed our biggest client, hurled me into Junior Publicist to cover the workload, shoved Abby into a dual receptionist-assistant role to take on my past workload, and somehow soft-pitched three new clients at the auction. Busy girl.

Honestly, the Junior Publicist role is what I’ve been doing for the last two years, but with fewer coffee runs, higher pay that could be a little higher, a shiny new title and my ass on the line if I screw up.

Oh, and a slew of strings thick as my arm, every one of them tied to Dalton-Fucking-God-in-Bed Ward.

It doesn’t help that the workload piling up on my brand new desk is a fierce reminder of why I swore off relationships after the breakup with Steve.

Working for a boutique company like Momentum means looking bigger than we are, with half the staff, half the resources, and all the pizzazz.

Honestly, it’s a burnout implosion waiting to happen, duh.

But that’s what YogaTube is for—find balance even if trying kills you, and I’m not dead yet.

I am the freaking queen of wearing all the hats.

Well, except the relationship one, obviously.

That hat flew off in an epic gale, caught blaze with a force Daenerys Targaryen would be proud of before crumbling into a sad, smoldering pile of ash.

Until this weekend, I’ve danced on the cinders, using the remains to help fertilize my other life plans.

Until I got drunk and bid on sexy McHockey player.

I curse all the stupid feelings he’s resurrected.

Now the one man I should avoid to get my work done is my number one professional priority.

If I wore quippy t-shirts with phrases on them, today’s would have FML in huge letters across my boobs with a pudgy fierce unicorn and glittery rainbow to boot, because why the hell not? Feels about right.

By the time the internal team meeting wraps up, my jaw is aching from the enthusiastic smile I’ve ratcheted into place, trying to match the enthusiasm I felt Friday morning when Ramona texted me the good news about sealing the deal.

I think I’m doing a convincing job until I notice the side eye Abby keeps shooting over, telling me the smile falls somewhere between The Joker’s cracked out grin and disappointed bride meeting her ugly ass, half-cousin betrothed.

The third time she catches my gaze, Abby taps my foot under the table, a sharp reminder that whatever my shit is, I need to get it together.

Focus Jenna. Jobs before knobs.

“Everyone out, we’ve got shit to do. Jenna, proposals in my inbox by the end of the day.

You’ll be at team trainings all week, and I want you focused on the team right now.

Individuals and the whole. Learn their strengths and dirty little secrets.

I guarantee the worst shit didn’t make it on those forms.”

“Trainings?” I ask, halting halfway out of my chair, snagging on the word blocking out my entire week.

“Yes. Onsite with the guys. I’ll forward you their schedule.

Peter assures me a town car will be by in the mornings to pick you up.

I’ve got three new potentials to swoon, so I need you to take lead with The Vortex.

Show me you deserve that new title.” She’s already tapping away at her computer, focus shifting to the next task.

It feels less like a handoff and more of a dump crap on your underling’s desk moment.

A spike of irritation flares, quelled by the fact that she’s trusting me with our biggest client. With a nod, I’m out the door and slamming into a waiting Abby.

“Please tell me you have a list of all the tasks and regular errands Ramona had you run.” The manic look in her eyes is back.

I place a hand on her arm with a gentle pat. “I’ve got you. Have a few minutes to go over things in my office?”

Damn, I love how that sounds, my office.

Abby flips her head back in relief. “Thank you, Jenna!”

The second my door is shut, Abby perches on the edge of a chair, hands twisting so violently I’m afraid she might pull off a finger.

“Jenna, I fucked up!” She says in a hushed tone. The color is draining from her face at an alarming rate.

I drop into the guest chair next to her, then grab her hands to still them. “This isn’t about the coffee pods, is it?”

Tears well in her eyes before she can blink them back. Oh shit, not about the coffee pods.

“You know I was the back-up ringer for the auction, right?”

I give a dip of my chin. I was called in to fill our last empty seat. Abby was supposed to be there in case we had any no-shows. “Ramona sent you home when we didn’t end up needing you.”

“Yeah, she did… but—” Her button nose scrunches, more tears threatening to break free.

“But…” I prompt with a squeeze of her hands.

“I went to the bar instead. Met this nice guy. We hit it off… and he had a room at the hotel. So we, you know? It was an insane week. I needed to blow off some steam.”

“Abby, no one is going to judge you for getting yours. Hell, as long as it was safe, consensual, and he gave you the release you needed, I’m all for it. If anyone gives you shit, I’ll kick their ass.” I say fiercely, but a nervous edge slices my intuition when her weak smile wavers.

“He said he was there for work. I swear I had no idea. We didn’t even swap last names.” She whimpers. A few tears escape and I make a mental side note to get a box of tissues in here.

“Married?” I ask, trying to keep the supportive expression stuck in place as I fight my personal prejudice against cheaters.

“Worse, he’s The Vortex’s goalie! I fucked the new client!”

A crazed laugh bubbles up and I gag, trying to keep it down. Holy shit. Day one and half of our team has already slept with the new client.

Abby’s eyes dart around the room as if remembering that we’re in my office. That I’m now her superior and not an equal-footed ally. “Oh god! You can’t tell Ramona. Promise me you won’t tell her! At least not yet. Shit, I shouldn’t have said anything!”

It’s only the sheer panic radiating off the poor woman that pulls me out of shock.

“He wasn’t part of the auction?” I ask.

“No. I assume he was a backup, like me. They must not have needed him, either. Hence why we were both at the bar so early.” Her teeth catch her lower lip. “Fuck Jenna, what should I do? I should tell Ramona, right?”

“Absolutely not. You’re way too valuable here and your career outweighs a one-night stand no matter how great it was.” I’m not sure if the words are for her or my own conscience. Probably mine.

“It was only okay.” She admits, then slaps a hand over her mouth before we both burst out laughing.

“Look, you didn’t know who he was. None of us knew Ramona was even courting the team until this morning?—”

“Frank did.”

“Yeah, well, Frank didn’t tell us either.

And if he was also out fucking Vortex players this weekend, there’s a bigger issue at hand.

One his wife probably won’t be too happy about.

” I clamp my lips down on the near slip, alluding to my implicit weekend activities.

Luckily, Abby’s too caught up in a guilt spiral to notice the word “us.”

“Are you planning on seeing him again?”

“God no! We agreed it was a one-time thing before hooking up. Neither of us is interested in anything more than casual sex.”

I wince. That was my plan too, but that went to shit the second Dalton’s mouth claimed mine and he turned out to be a freaking great guy.

“So, don’t tell Ramona?” There’s a glimmer of hope in Abby’s tone that churns my stomach.

“In most cases, I would say to come clean. But this time, I think it’s better left unsaid. Just make sure he’s on the same page. We don’t want him telling the entire team and spilling the sexy time beans from a can we want unopened.”

“Already done. I cornered him when he went to the bathroom earlier. Chase promised he wouldn’t say a word.”

“I’ll hold him to that.” Or I will leverage Dalton to make sure the guy keeps his mouth shut.

I sit up tall and square my shoulders, tugging Abby’s hands until she does the same. “No more fucking Vortex players.”

“No. More. Fucking. Vortex. Players.” She agreed, swiping a finger under her drying eyes.

I hope to hell I can keep up my end of the promise.