I stood up, annoyed that I had to leave the confines of my cozy leather chair. Who writes letters anymore? Whatever happened to typing up a quick email?
My fingers slid between the paper as I peeled open the letter.
Preston,
Thank you so much for this tremendous opportunity to intern at your advertising firm. It was truly the chance of a lifetime, but without going into too much detail, I feel that I’ve compromised what this internship was supposed to mean.
I’m sorry I let you down. I’m sorry I’m not good enough to be your shining star. I’m sorry you think I lied to you.
But most of all, I’m sorry that you feel the need to punish me for the sins of Sapphire Hart. I’m not her, and I’m sorry you couldn’t make the distinction. We could have been happy but now we’ll never know.
I refuse to pay for the sins of another woman, and that is why I am resigning – both personally and professionally. My formal resignation is on file with HR.
Mirabelle
I crumpled the letter and tossed it across the room into the garbage can, missing by a couple inches. I stormed out of my office, towards Mirabelle’s office, and flung the door open, but her desk was cleaned off. Not a single pen or one of her millions of notebooks covered it. The computer was shut down and her chair was pushed neatly under the desk.
“Ruthie,” I called out as I stomped down the hall. “Where’s Mirabelle.”
“She left, sir,” she replied with a bit of fear in her eyes. I must have looked damn angry. “She resigned this morning. She told me to slip the note under your door after she left.”
“So she’s gone,” I repeated, those words hitting me hard along with the reality of her absence.
“Yes,” Ruthie replied, her eyes studying mine. “I’m sorry, sir. She was a nice addition to have around here.”
I didn’t have time for her niceties. “What’s her address? Look her up in the system.”
Ruthie hesitated for a second, but she knew better. She clicked around in her computer before jotting down an address on a scrap of paper and handing it to me.
I practically ripped it from her pudgy fingers as my feet carried me towards the elevator. Maybe Mirabelle lied to me, but she was right. She was not Sapphire Hart. I had to see her one last time.
***
The cab dropped me off in front of a brick apartment building above a small printing business. I approached the door and hit every last buzzer on the call system until someone let me up.
I climbed the three flights of stairs until I got to Mirabelle’s floor and found her apartment door at the end of the hall.
“Mirabelle,” I said as I knocked three times, “…It’s Preston.”
After several long minutes, the door unlocked from the other side and flew open, revealing Mirabelle standing there. She was already in low-cut, pink sweats and a skin-hugging, sheer white tank top. Her long, blonde hair was pulled into a low braid that hung over her shoulder, and her face had been wiped clean of any makeup.
Fresh-faced, casual Mirabelle was just as much of a bombshell as the fox in the business suit I’d been around day in and day out. The pudgy, pimply teenager was long gone, even in her natural state.
Her eyes full of hurt and angst, she said, “What do you need, Preston?”
“I wanted to talk to you about your letter,” I said. “Can I come in?”
She swung the door open winder and motioned for me to come inside. A modest studio with minimal furnishings, nothing really caught my eye except for a small bookcase next to the door covered in frames and photographs. That and the lack of even a single child’s toy in the entire space.
“Why are you staring at my pictures?” she asked, annoyed with me.
“You have a ton of pictures of yourself,” I observed out loud.
“Are you kidding me?” she snapped. “That’s Madison, my sister..?”
“Well, fuck me,” I sighed, drawing out each syllable. Obviously I remembered Madison, but never in a million years did I think they’d grow up looking like freaking identical twins.
As my eyes scanned the rest of the photos, I noticed several more of the little girl I’d seen her with the weekend before.
“She was here last weekend actually,” Mirabelle said. “With her daughter. My niece. A lot’s happened in ten years…”
A hard lump formed in my throat, and anger boiled through my blood. I hated being wrong, and I hated myself for never being able to admit it.
“I don’t want you to resign,” I said as I turned back to face her. “I want you back at the firm.”
“But you said my work is garbage,” she said, glaring at me with her beautiful ocean blue eyes and curious, arched brows.
“I want to help you,” I said. “With my guidance, I know you can take things to a whole different level.”
“I don’t think I can,” she replied, her voice low.
“That’s absurd,” I replied. “Of course you can. Go get changed. You can ride back to the office with me.”
“I can’t work with you, Preston,” she said, her eyes pleading with me not to push the issue any further.
“What happened to the girl I met two weeks ago?” I asked. “The girl with fire in her eyes and an air of confidence about her?”
“When you constantly give your best, and you’re told it’s not good enough every single day,” she said. “It sort of eats away at you. I don’t even think I want to work in advertising anymore.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” I said, secretly realizing I’d maybe pushed her a little too far, too fast.
The truth was, her work was never garbage, and I knew that. Her work was amazing. It was better than anything I’d ever churned out in all my years in the business. I’d graduated at the top of my class at Duke, and her work put mine to shame.
“Please,” I said. “Don’t make me beg. I don’t like to beg. And I don’t like being told no…”
I reached my hand out and took hers, pulling her closer to me. I placed my hand gently under her jaw and nudged her lips closer towards mine. Inches away, it took all I had not to kiss them.
“I was really starting to like you,” she said as she turned her face from mine. “And then you changed. Just like that. You weren’t who I thought you were.”
The familiarity of her words stung. In an odd sort of way, I’d done to her what Sapphire had done to me. False advertising.
“I don’t think you’re over Sapphire,” Mirabelle said. “And I can’t compete with your memories of her.”
“I don’t want Sapphire,” I hissed. “Sapphire means nothing to me anymore. The person I thought she was…it was all an act. You’re real, Miri. Everything about you. There’s no act with you. No gimmicks. That’s what I want.”
Her eyes met mine once again, and I could tell she was thinking about it.
“I don’t know, Preston,” she said as she bit her lip.
“Come back with me,” I said. “I’m not asking.”
Standing that close to her, the scent of her gardenia perfume filled my lungs and took me back to the first and only time I’d fucked her on the back of the desk. The animalist urge that coursed through my veins that day was starting to bubble up to the surface. I wanted her so badly.
“I’ll come back,” she said with a slight hesitation in her voice. “But you and I have to be professional. I’m not sleeping with you again. I’m your intern. You’re my boss. Nothing more, nothing less.”
“Fine,” I said. I couldn’t force her to want to be with me. I could only hope with time, I could prove that I wasn’t such a giant asshole and maybe, just maybe she’d change her mind about me.
TWENTY-ONE
MIRABELLE
“Here’s your coffee, Preston,” I said as I sat the warm mug on his desk. I’d been back at work for a full two months, growing in leaps and bounds thanks to Preston taking me under his wing. True to his word and much to my surprise, he kept our relationship professional.
&nb
sp; Gone were the late nights working side by side and the tender moments with stolen kisses behind closed doors.
It didn’t stop me from wanting to jump his bones every time I looked at him. I was still crazy attracted to him, and the fact that he’d pulled in the reins and quit pursuing me only made me want him even more. But I’d never tell him that…
“Thanks,” he said as he smiled kindly towards me. “Did you have a good walk in today?”
“I did,” I said. It was March, and spring had officially arrived. My brisk, early morning walks to work were the second best part of my day; second only to seeing Preston’s face first thing in the morning. But again, I’d never tell him that…
“You’ve got another four weeks left,” he said.
“Pardon?”
“Four more weeks here,” he said. “Then your internship is over.”
“Oh, right,” I said, neglecting to tell him that I’d been counting down the days. Each passing day meant I was that much closer to finally graduating, but it also meant I was that much closer to leaving Preston and the city.
“Have you been applying anywhere?” he asked.
“No,” I replied. “I’ve been too busy slaving away for you to even think about looking for jobs.”
“Would you consider working for me?” he asked as he took a sip from his mug.
“There aren’t any open positions,” I replied. I’d been checking the website at least once a week. My eyes glanced down to a handwritten list on top of his desk filled with names of various employees, most of them older. At the top of the list was Monica’s name.
“What’s that?” I asked as I reached for the paper.
He snatched it back. “Just doing a little trimming. Making room for fresh talent. It’s time.”
“You’re firing all those people?” I asked as I jumped back from his desk.
“Mirabelle,” he said as his eyes tried to reason with me. “This is normal. This is part of the business world. We trim. We add. We grow. We change.”
“Monica’s been here for over a decade,” I said. “She’s practically married to her job.”
“Yeah,” he said. “And her ideas are dull. She has no concept of how social media works. And I’ll be damned if I send her out to woo a potential million dollar client in her three-piece K-Mart suits.”
Pieces of the old Preston were beginning to shine through, and I suddenly felt ill. Monica loved her job, and she was my only friend there. She didn’t deserve to be laid off because she wasn’t shiny and new and fresh out of college.
“You can’t work with her?” I asked. “I’d be happy to teach her about social media.”
“She’s an old dog,” he said. “Can’t teach an old dog new tricks. It’s time for her to go.”
“How many other people are on that list?” I asked, my hands on my hips. I suddenly remembered Mr. Halston’s impending retirement in June. It was all aligning just perfectly for Preston’s master plan. Get rid of all the old, dead weight. Bring in new, fresh ideas. No wonder the HR lady had mentioned once they had a record number of interns that year. He was scouting for people to replace Halston’s loyal minions.
“Not that many,” he lied. I’d seen at least ten or fifteen names scribbled on that paper.
“I really thought you’d changed,” I said, shaking my head in disappointment.
“Mirabelle, don’t be ridiculous,” he said. “I can assure you, this is normal. This is the real world. I’m not the monster you’re making me out to be. If this were your company, what would you do?”
He had a point, I knew, but it still didn’t change the harshness of the reality.
“Please keep Monica,” I said. “Move her to a different position. Put her under your wing like you did mine. Something, anything. Don’t get rid of her. This job is all she has.”
He leaned back in his seat, slightly defeated, and sighed. “Fine.”
I smiled a small, victorious smile. I couldn’t save them all, but if I could save Monica, I’d at least sleep a little better that night.
TWENTY-TWO
PRESTON
Two months, ten days, four hours and thirty-seven minutes. It had been far too long since I’d last kissed Mirabelle. Seeing her strutting around the office in her tight pant suits and her illuminating smile, spewing intelligence far beyond her years and putting together marketing plans that were far beyond her level, was pure torture. I wanted nothing more than to take her on the back of the desk like I had once before.
She had to have seen how much I stared at her. A few times, when we were alone in my office together and the air was charged with a sort of thick tension, I’d thought about kissing her pillow soft lips and slipping my fingers through her smooth, light blonde hair once again. But I always stopped myself.
As her internship was nearing to an end, the idea that I might never see her again was becoming a reality. We had twenty-six days left, which meant there were twenty-six days left for me to convince her to stay; to convince her not to leave…me.
“I’m going on a business trip to Seattle next weekend,” I said to her as I barged into her office one rainy April morning.
“Oh?” she replied. I studied her face trying to determine whether or not she was even remotely disappointed in the fact that I’d be gone for a period of time. Before Mirabelle came along, I’d traveled every chance I got. The moment I fell for her, I couldn’t stand to spend a day away from her. Seattle was non-negotiable though. I was about to pitch to one of our biggest potential clients in the history of the company. It was a secret, side-project I’d been working on, and not even Mirabelle knew about it.
“I need you to join me,” I said. “It’ll be two days. Monday and Tuesday next week. I’ll have Ruthie arrange your tickets and hotel accommodations. A car will pick you up at seven Monday morning.”
Before she had time to say no, I left her office.
***
I waited in the town car in front of her apartment building the following Monday while the driver buzzed her apartment. Within minutes, she came strutting out of the building, pulling a little black suitcase behind her and wearing a tight, black suit with creamy blouse and a string of pearls hanging from her neck.
“Good morning,” she said as the driver opened the door and she climbed inside.
“Ready for Seattle?” he asked.
“You still haven’t told me what we’re pitching or who we’re pitching to,” she said with an arched brow. “When are you going to tell me these things?”
“You’re not pitching anything,” he said. “I’ve got everything under control. I’ll give you the notes once we get on the plane.”
“So what do you need me for?” she asked, puzzled.
“The company we’re pitching to is a very young, very diverse Internet start up,” he said. “I want to reflect that we’re also young and diverse when we pitch.”
“Oh, so I’m the token young Millenial from your advertising team. I see,” she said, annoyed.
I laughed. “It sounds bad when you put it that way. You’re oversimplifying it.”
I placed my hand on hers, forgetting for a second, that we were just employee and employer. She jerked her hand away from mine and turned to look out the window.
“You’re quiet,” I said to her after ten minutes of silence. We were approaching JFK and the rumble of planes overhead filled the space around us.
She shook her head. “Just thinking.”
TWENTY-THREE
MIRABELLE
Watching Preston in his element, pitching advertising and marketing plans, was damn near one of the sexiest things I’d ever seen. When he really went for it, his face lit up, and his lips seemed to spill all the right words, and I forgot what a perfectionistic, arrogant control freak he could be. Every pair of eyes around that conference table were glued to him as he passed out handouts and flipped to different slides on his presentation.
His presentation went beyond textbook-perfect, and there was
going to be no way that company would turn him down.
Towards end of his spiel, he had me stand and say a few things. I’d gone over his notes during the flight and suggested a few changes, which he amazingly agreed with.
The moment the pitch was over, they shook our hands and said they’d let us know soon.
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