Chapter 11 #2
“You won’t,” she said, no hesitation. “Because you’ve already fought too hard to become this version of you. The Sam who lives here. Who drinks green juice and flies to Tokyo for forty-eight hours and knows herself better than anyone else ever did. You’re not the scared kid who left home anymore.”
I blinked, trying not to cry. My throat felt tight. “And if I say yes, and I fail?”
She leaned forward and touched her glass to mine. “Then you fail fabulously in red bottom heels and collect your severance like a queen.”
I laughed. I didn’t mean to, but it burst out of me. “God, I love you.” She smiled, leaning back into the couch. “I know.”
Two days, that’s how long it took me to open the email.
Not because I forgot.
Oh no, I saw it every time I checked my inbox. Sitting right there with its overly formal subject line like a smug little ghost.
Hayes International, Official Offer to Samantha Hayes.
Very on-brand.
There was no warmth in that email. It was filled with just cold fonts and calculated benefits. But this morning, after Pilates kicked my ass and my matcha set me straight, I decided it was time.
I padded barefoot across our apartment. My hair was still damp form the shower. I was in leggings and one of Rose’s old, oversized tees that I’d permanently borrowed. The Upper East Side was buzzing outside, muted by thick windows and somewhat soon to be rich girl privilege.
I needed silence to do this. I opened the email, clicked on the PDF and scrolled.
Position: International Business Strategist
Salary: Eye-watering.
Benefits: Generous enough to make capitalism blush.
Start Date: Negotiable
Reporting To: CEO, Mr. Theodore Jones
I stared at that line for a full ten seconds, Mr. Theodore Jones. I could still hear the low rasp of ‘You can take me, sweetheart?’ in the back of my mind like it was carved into the damn neurons. I could still feel his hands on my hips. His fingers tracing my body, even his co—. Fuck.
Focus, you little slut.
I read the whole thing twice. This wasn’t an easy decision for a lot of reasons.
But especially because I was going to be working with him.
He doesn’t know who I am. I wasn’t planning on telling him because it didn’t matter.
It wasn’t supposed to. As much as he might wish to see me again, he doesn’t expect to.
And now? Now I have to walk into his office and shake hands with this man.
My pulse was racing as if I were running a marathon. I took a sip of my matcha, and after a long, slow breath, I clicked Accept.
Just like that, I was in.
I logged in to my airline portal and filed for a leave of absence for the maximum time allowed. This wasn’t goodbye, it was just a see-you-later. Or maybe never. I don’t know yet. The screen flashed Submission confirmed, and I shut the laptop with a soft click that echoed louder in my chest.
I was officially part of the Hayes empire. Just like I swore I never would be.
I sat there for a moment, legs curled under me, staring out the window at a slice of New York skyline that had always made me feel untouchable and independent. Like I’d chosen this life. Now, that skyline looked like it was laughing at me.
What the hell are you doing, Samantha?
I let out a breath somewhere between a laugh and a groan and buried my face in my hands. I pulled my phone out of the couch cushion and texted Rose.
Me: Hey, so I did a thing.
Rose: Which thing? A sexy thing or a scary thing?
Me: Both? Because I just hit accept on my family’s scary career offer, that means 1A is my boss.
Three dots blinked for a very long time.
Rose: OH FUCK, sexy and scary it is…
Me: Yup.
I tossed the phone on the couch and flopped backward like the drama queen I am.
The ceiling didn’t offer any answers, but at least it didn’t expect me to have a plan. This was real now. I was no longer a flight attendant, Sam. I was now corporate Samantha. Ew.
“I can’t wear this,” I groaned, standing in front of my closet in nothing but a lace bra and matching underwear, holding up a silver satin mini dress like it personally offended me.
Rose didn’t even look up from the bed where she was sprawled with her third glass of wine and a face mask that made her look like a dewy alien. “Why not?”
“Because I’m about to start a corporate job at the company I swore I’d never touch, working for the man I definitely touched.
” I paused. “Extensively.” She peeled a cucumber slice off her eyelid and stared at me.
“And this is relevant to how you dress because…?” I threw it onto the bed dramatically.
“Because I need to look powerful. Unbothered. Like I didn’t just accept a high-level position while completely compromised by sex hair and childhood trauma.”
“You’re getting dressed for a night out,” she said slowly, “not your first board meeting. Also, if you don’t wear that, I will, and I swear I’ll make out with someone who can’t pronounce ‘Pinot.’” I sighed, grabbing the skirt again and holding it in front of me.
“It’s short.”
Rose grinned. “So are you.” We both cracked up. God, I needed this night. Not the tequila shots and body glitter part, though I was fully ready for that, too, but the part where I remembered who I was outside of the Hayes orbit.
“I’m going to be in a boardroom with a man who’s seen me naked,” I said, slipping into the dress anyway.
“Cheers to feminism,” Rose muttered, standing and shimmying into her jumpsuit. It was black, backless, and illegal in at least three states. She looked like trouble. The best kind.
“Are you gonna tell him?” she asked casually, blending highlighter. “Tell him what?”
I tried to play dumb. Rose just raised an eyebrow. “That I’m a Hayes?” I muttered. “I mean, I’ll have to. What’s the etiquette on disclosing a secret billionaire lineage to a man who’s now your boss but also maybe remembers how loud you moaned his name?”
Rose blinked at me in the mirror. “I don’t know, but you’re doing amazing, sweetie.”
Lipstick. Perfume. Anxiety. Check, check, check.
We called an Uber and headed downtown. This night was like a bachelorette party, minus the bride, plus a bunch of our favorite hot messes, including Marcus, our mutual friend and professional instigator, and Josh, my ex-situationship, who was somehow still in our group chat and still impossibly hot in a chaotic, DJ-with-an-MBA kind of way.
We walked into the bar like a slow-mo scene in a movie. Stilettos, laughter, city lights, and dangerous nostalgia. Josh whistled.
“Damn, rich girl, you look good.” I smiled sweetly. “And unemployment still looks good on you, babe.” He winked. “Still mad I ghosted you?”
Rose slipped between us. “Still mad she never slept with you again?” We claimed a booth, ordered a round of espresso martinis, and for a second, just a second, I forgot that my life was on the verge of imploding.
Theo didn’t exist here. Hayes didn’t either.
Just music, friends, and Rose’s foot tapping mine under the table, saying ‘breathe, babe’.
I got this.
I looked around at the people I’d chosen to build my life with. I looked at the chaos, the glitter, the city that had always made me feel like anything was possible. And I let myself smile.
Tomorrow, I’d deal with corporate realities and office politics and pretend I hadn’t seen my new boss naked.
Tonight? Tonight, I was just Sam again.
And that was enough.