Shopping for a Billionaire 4(39)
Author: Julia Kent

“That long ago?” I eye him with suspicion. “Why?”

“Because you’re smart.”

“Pffft. That’s not a good enough reason! No one gets a great job with a huge megacorporation because they’re smart,” I say, making a dismissive sound with the back of my throat.

“Then how do you get a great job with a megacorporation?” he asks.

“By knowing someone—” I groan. “Networking.”

His hands squeeze my ample ass. “Is that what they call this?” He kisses the hollow at the nape of my neck. “Networking?”

“You can’t give me a job just because you’re sleeping with me! What kind of feminist would I be if I did that?”

“An employed feminist?”

I stop and consider that for a moment as his hand does unspeakable things. Really. He’s making it hard for me to speak. “Would I work under you?”

He makes a suggestive sound.

“How about we conduct a little employee orientation right now?” he whispers.

And then he schools me.

Chapter Twenty

“Check out that headline,” Josh crows as he slaps a morning paper on my desk at work. Um, former work, technically. I’m here to clean out my desk.

Unidentified Flying Orgasm screams the newspaper headline, with a giant picture of a crushed vibrator on the ground next to the bumper of a taxi, two men arguing over it.

“Nice.”

“Funny how that happened at the exact hotel where you were working,” he adds with a sly look.

“The world is made up of unremitting coincidences.”

“And you have an awful lot of them following you around.” He walks out of my office and into his. Keyboard keys click furiously in the distance.

I make a dismissive sound in my throat and continue putting my personal stuff in a box. Greg isn’t here today, but he’s called me three times in the past two days to apologize profusely. I get a month’s severance and can continue to mystery shop for him, but he can’t chance losing the second-biggest client for Consolidated Evalu-shop.

I get it. I really do understand. And there’s a silver lining. A big one.

Carol’s taking my job. She screamed in my ear after Greg interviewed her, and Mom and Dad can fill in for child care during the occasional non-school hours she has to work. It’s a relief to know that even as my own career turns to shambles, at least my sister and nephews are in a better place.

“Hey,” Josh whispers, carrying his laptop with him. I’m about to hand mine over and he’ll back up all my personal files, then wipe it clean for Carol. “I need to show you something.”

He clicks on a tab with Twitter open. On Jessica Coffin’s profile. I groan.

“No, no, just look,” he assures me. His eyes are lit up and he’s so animated, which means I’m about to learn all about Linux sftp protocol scripting or he’ll explain some intricate detail about how the darknet will take over the world when the Millennial Illuminati gain power.

“I really have no desire to even think about Jessica Coffin again.”

“She’s getting completely trashed online. Twitter, Facebook, Pinterest, Tumbler—you name it. There’s a long, long thread on Reddit calling her out.”

Now I’m interested. “What happened?”

He waves his hands in front of him with glee, face consumed by the glowing screen. “Someone,” he says in an arched tone, “appears to have hacked into her Twitter account and is posting all of the direct, private messages she’s been receiving for the past year.”

“Huh?”

“Basically, people have been feeding her gossip and now they’re all being outed by her. Her Twitter stream, that is.”

“Why would she do that?”

“She’s not doing it. A cracker did it.”

“A cracker?”

His harsh sigh makes me feel stupid. “A hacker.”

“So do I know this ‘someone’?”

Pride shines through in his upright posture and he strokes his chin. “I can’t imagine knowing anyone who would do such a thing, but you never know. Could be 4chan, or…” He goes on and names a bunch of groups I’ve never heard of.

I stare at the screen and read some of the messages.

Many are from Steve. Busted!

A wide smile stretches my face as I turn my own computer off and hand it to Josh. “Thanks.”

“For what?” He looks at the ceiling and pretends to be innocent.

I stand on tiptoes and kiss his cheek. “For helping to balance the world a little more fairly.” My keychain rattles in my hand as I palm it off on him.

“Company car?”

“Yep. You can take the Turdmobile and hand your car off to my sister when she starts working here. Though my nephew, Jeffrey, would be disappointed. He wants to drive around in a ‘pieth of thit car’.”

Josh laughs, then swallows, hard. “I’m going to miss you.”

“I’m not disappearing.”

“But you won’t be here. You and Amanda are this amazing duo. Someone has to huddle with me in the winter to stay warm.”

“Carol’s a big girl like me. You’ll do fine.”

We hug.

My phone buzzes. It’s Declan, outside, in a limo. Josh walks me to the main doors and peers out at my mode of transportation.

“What the hell am I worried about,” he declares. “You’re leaving this place and the Turdmobile to get into that?” A low whistle and a high five ends my visit, and I turn to Declan with my personal belongings in a box, walking away from the very job that made me meet him.

Car tires screech in the parking lot as Amanda arrives. She parks across two spaces and jumps out, running to me. Josh stands in the doorway, gawking.

“Wait! Stop!” Breathless, she leans over and puts her hands on her knees. Declan climbs out of the limo and takes the box from me, a curious look passing between us.

“Mystery shopping emergency? Did someone fail to deliver a drive-thru order in ninety seconds or less?” I joke.

“No.” She’s in tears. “I just didn’t want to miss you before you left.”

“You could just text me,” I say slowly, trying to keep the joke going because if I don’t, I’ll dissolve into a puddle of tears, too. “You didn’t need to pull a Hollywood moment where you rush in and—”

Too late. We’re sobbing. Two strong, masculine arms wrap around me and Amanda and then we hear the whimpering sound of Josh crying, too.