Page 37 of The Bad Girl

“So, you’re just going to move her to another department? Who’s going to take over her position?”

“Well, you’ll be transitioning into her role, but eventually, I’d hire another to assist you.”

“Does she know?”

“No idea.”

There are other things I want to tell him, things I wish I could trust him with, like how I haven’t been able to get Nadine out of my head, and how a picture of her that could hardly be considered PG-13 had me up half the night. That the only good option I had was move her out of sight, out of mind. Thankfully, she’ll be the perfect addition to InStryde’s PR team. It’s a match made in heaven, and if I had been paying more attention, I would have figured this out months ago. And of course, Nadine will be thrilled because not only is it a considerable promotion, but I’m going to ensure she gets a huge bump in pay and a bonus.

I pull out my phone, sending Stacey a quick text.

Maxwell:Whaddaya think?

Stacey:She’s a natural, but you don’t need me to tell ya that.

That settles it. Next week, I’ll bring Nadine to lunch, sit her down, offer her the promotion. She’ll be ecstatic, of course. It’s what women like her work so hard for.

But I’m not ecstatic. Not one bit. There’s a sadness welling inside me that leaves me hollow, devoid of joy, utterly drained.

If I had it my way, I’d keep Nadine to myself, as crazy as that sounds. But it’s wrong to clip her wings, and even if it means I have to let her go, I’m determined to see her fly.

“Well, I think Nadine will be great in her new position,” Harry finally replies.

I smile, imagining Nadine in a position not at all related to PR, underneath me in in her pink panties, pushing me down her body, begging me to taste her.

“Yeah, she’ll be great.”

?

Nadine

“Truth.”

“You can’t always call truth!” Stacey scolds.

“Why not?”

“Because that’s what good girls do. Good girls have nothing to hide, so they pick truth every time.”

Sometime after lunch, Stacey proposed we play a riveting game of Truth or Dare. So far, I’ve confessed to how I lost my virginity, the most scandalous sexcapade I’ve had, and divulged my political affiliation.

Stacey, on the other hand, has initiated phone sex with IT, confessed to handcuffing a man to his bed for two days(he was an asshole that put date rape drugs in her friend’s drink, so I don’t blame her,) and has ordered a Hustler subscription for her mother.

I exhale an annoyed breath. “Fine, dare!”

“Okay, take a picture of your boobs, and send it to the last person you went on a date with captioned: This is what you’re missing out on!”

The thought of doing something so obscenely crass is so shocking, I can actually feel the color draining from my face. “Never!”

“Okay, fine then. Send a picture of your tits to Maxwell.”

“Are you fucking crazy?”

“Certifiably so! And don’t act like you didn’t send him an eyeful last night.”

“My tits were covered! There’s no fucking way I’m doing this.”

“Okay, fine,” Stacey says, flipping through the pages of one of the many fashion magazines kept in the office.