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“Jenna, you remember Miss Edwards. Turns out, she’s currently in the market for new representation and would like to hire our firm.

She’s offering a very generous monthly rate.

Almost triple our usual.” Ramona leans back in her chair, keen eyes slicing into me like a thousand tiny cuts as I take the seat next to Ellie’s.

The knot rising in my throat hardly allows me to nod and then give a strangled sounding, “Generous.”

Ellie glows, drinking in my shock like it’s a life force. I consider vomiting the coffee swilling in my stomach onto the lap of her pristine designer sundress.

“I would love to work with Momentum. I’ve been so impressed with your work, Ramona.

And Lord knows, I have a silly amount of money to spend.

But as I was saying, there are a few contingencies I need fulfilled before I can sign a contract.

Professional courtesies and all.” Ellie’s voice is spun sugar and sickly sweet, at odds with the viper smile twisting her mouth.

Ramona’s lips pull into a thin line, but her facade is flat. I know that look. I dread that look. The calmer Ramona’s expression, the hotter her anger is raging under the surface.

Shit, here we go.

“Such as?” I prompt Ellie, knowing exactly where this conversation is headed.

Ellie toys with the delicate Tiffany’s necklace hanging at the base of her throat. She looks perfect, a princess who rolled out of bed and got dressed with the help of birds. Not a drunk party crasher, who ties herself up naked in people’s bed and sets apartments on fire when rejected.

“Your boss and I were just having the nicest chat. After you left last night, I re alized where I knew you from. I’m surprised it took me so long to place you.

It’s not often I forget the face of someone I lose to.

You’re the woman who outbid me for Dalton.

Must have been the wine. Your waiters did have a heavy hand, or maybe it was your generic look.

Either way, I must say, how ingenious of you to act as a ringer and run up prices, Jenna.

I would have never guessed, under that innocent mousy facade is a scam artist.”

This is so much worse than what I expected. I figured Ellie would throw a fit and out me for dating a client, instead, she’s accusing me of fraud.

Ramona shifts. I can feel her eyes boring into me. Yes, I was at the event to fill a seat and start bids for bachelors with slow momentum. But I never drove up prices. Ramona and I were resolute in not crossing that ethical line.

“I won the bid for that date. Paid in full. There are no rules saying staff can’t participate in the auction.” I’m grasping at straws.

Ellie’s lips purse. “True, but then there’s the mystery of how an intern who was raised in a trailer park by her grandma and ex-con father could afford to throw fifty thousand dollars away for a date.”

I blanch.

“It’s amazing what you can find in public records with a little digging.

” Ellie winks—fucking winks at me—before a mask of pained disappointment falls into place.

Ellie leans toward Ramona, her manicured fingers patting the desk as if to comfort its owner.

“It hurts me to be the one to tell Ramona all of this. I want to work with her so badly, but I just couldn’t stomach hiring a team that’s supporting a con artist. I mean, look at all the recent Netflix documentaries on those nut jobs.

I wanted to make sure Ramona knew exactly who’s working for her.

How could I not? She’s built such a well-respected business, and I’m ready to sign on the line today, but only if…

” Ellie bites her lip like the next part is too hard to say aloud.

“If?” My voice comes out flat.

Ramona answers, her tone curt. “If I fire you and make a public statement about your deceitful actions involving the charity auction. Effectively blacklisting you from all future PR work.”

Ellie is trying hard to play the part of the innocent whistleblower. It’s almost perfect except for the curl at the corner of her lips.

Sandpaper coats my throat. This is it, the moment my life could implode. I nod at the floor, then muster the courage to look at my boss. This is the wild card, the moment when Ramona can change her mind about me. “I will respect your decision.”

Ramona steeples her fingers again, pressing them against her lips.

“I must say, Miss Edwards, when you called to schedule this meeting outside of normal office hours, I was surprised. The bombshell dropped, however, is not how I like to start a morning. While I’m not happy about the allegations you’ve just shared, they are no surprise. In fact, I would call them old news.”

“Excuse me?” Ellie gives a small shake of her head, like she heard wrong.

Ramona continues. “You know, Miss Edwards, I’ll give you credit.

It is amazing what you can find on public records with a little digging.

You, for instance. Discovering you’ve burned through five PR firms, three managers, and seven assistants in the past five years sent up some red flags.

Business owners talk, you know, and even if your name was never mentioned, a toddler could connect the dots.

While your public image has stayed relatively clean, keeping it that way is no easy feat.

You see, most firms have a built-in fee we call PITA—“pain in the ass” tax—and from what I’ve gleaned of your track record with support staff, triple our average rate doesn’t begin to cover that fee. ”

“Who the fuck—” Ellie shouts, her sweet demeanor vanishing into thin air. I curb a grim smile. There’s the real Ellie.

Ramona cuts her off with a raised finger that makes me cringe, despite not being the intended target.

“I was not done talking, Miss Edwards. Now, I like nice things, and money buys nice things, so I like money. Obviously.” She gestures to her designer shoes and the modern office decor.

“What I don’t like is people threatening my staff.

While you were practicing this revenge pitch this morning, Jenna and Mr. Ward were in my office two hours ago.

They disclosed the events of the auction, the days following, and their current romantic status in detail.

“At this point, I would wager I’m much more informed about the situation than you are.

Am I furious it took Jenna so long to tell me?

Absolutely. But I have no intention of firing the best PR person I’ve ever worked with to appease a celebrity’s temper tantrum.

You can take your under-scoped offer, unsupported threats, and kindly get the fuck out of my office. ”

Ellie’s cheeks turn a blotchy red, the hand still poised on Ramona’s desk clutching into a claw.

It’s only Ramona’s scolding look that keeps me from busting out in a dance.

Getting almost zero sleep was worth this moment.

Ellie’s head whips in my direction and the faint smile on my lips is the final straw.

“Fuck you, you petty man-stealing whore! How dare you ruin my life? He is mine. MINE!” Ellie lunges to her feet, her dagger-point fingernail way too close to my left eye.

The door flies open, slamming into the wall with a drywall cracking thud. Dalton charges in, yanking my chair, and effectively me, away from his ex before stepping between us.

“Enough, Ellie.” His voice booms in a way I haven’t heard before. Not even when training the guys. “We’re done. This entire thing is done.”

“Dalton.” His name is a meek plea on her pouty lips.

“Don’t,” Dalton barks in the same hurtful tone.

Ellie’s finger taps him once mid-chest before he steps back. The hurt in her eyes is so palpable, I almost feel bad, except she’s trying to tank my entire life. So, yeah. Fuck her.

“Abby!” Ramona hollers while reaching for her phone. “You have one second to sit back down, Miss Edwards, before I call security and they make a very public scene escorting you out.”

Two people clog the doorway. Abby takes in the situation with a shocked expression, while the other woman seems unfazed. I recognize her as Ellie’s assistant from last night. She’s probably seen worse. Ramona waves, and Abby vanishes to meet security at the elevator.

Ellie’s demeanor switches so fast, I have whiplash. Her facial expression goes mannequin smooth. Then, with careful movements, she flattens the front of her dress and glides back into the other guest chair. It’s like her outburst never happened.

“Nancy, go call my car.” She dismisses the girl without a glance. “Isn’t this an unfortunate turn of events? I was hoping to only drown Jenna, but as you all want to sink together, I can see no other way. Casualties of war and all that.”

Her now tranquil smile sends shivers down my spine.

“What are you getting at, Ellie?” Ramona asks. Ever the knife for cutting through bullshit.

“My point is, Ramona, I know that little cunt rigged the charity. She stole my date, didn’t pay, and that nugget of information is gold. I go public about your charity scam, and bam. Three birds, one social media canceling stone.”

“There’s no scam and you have no proof.” Dalton folds his arms across his chest, stance widening.

I know he wants to scream that he paid to avoid going on the date with her, but Ramona warned us to admit nothing.

What I thought this morning was a paranoid theory that Ellie might try to record our conversation. Now seems more than plausible.

“Darling,” Ellie coos, pulling out her phone. “Remember that concierge I blew to get your room number? Turns out he has access to the hotel security cameras, too.”

She flips the screen. A video plays of the hallway outside of the ballroom, a perfect view of the payment tables and Dalton walking up to pay for my bid, writing a note. Ellie scrubs ahead to me going to the same table and picking up a packet with his note on top.