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coin, but no one actually wanted to marry her, each hoping she’d pick one of the others. And then she ended up alone, all because she couldn’t choose between them.

    She overslept the next day, took a fast but absolutely necessary shower, and almost forgot to rinse the conditioner out of her hair.
    The closet bulged with expensive designer clothes. Before she’d started working at the company, it had been difficult to piece together a single acceptable outfit. Now she had dozens of tailored pieces with matching shoes and accessories. Nolan was the one who usually picked them out. He was the most fashion-conscious of the men, yet he wasn’t a graphic designer; in fact, he’d been working the receptionist’s desk when she met him. “Working” being very loosely defined.
    That had been some strange punishment, mostly self-inflicted. Perhaps Nolan remained there for so long because it filled a hole in his life. Or maybe he’d found the sex games worth the drudgery of an office job. What she knew for certain was that he’d changed a lot since their first meeting, when he gave her bitter, cold coffee and generally acted like a jerk.
    She chose a light purple lace bra and matching panties, then quickly settled on a dark purple tunic dress and heeled booties accented with a swirl of citrine-colored stones. Cunningham preferred her in garter belts and thigh-highs, so she picked a pair with a three-inch lace top.
    Cunningham disliked sloppiness, which was why he usually avoided her place. His need for order was also the reason she dug in her lingerie drawer and pulled an extra few pairs of stockings. The supply in her desk drawer was running low. Maybe she worked long hours, but she also spent a significant chunk of time doing things that were most definitely not work.  
    Things that made runs in her stockings and ruined her panties.  
    Panties… She dug out an extra pair and added everything to the large, stylish hobo bag that Jonathan had surprised her with a few days earlier. When she had gawked at the label, realizing this designer’s pieces often ran into the tens of thousands of dollars, he told her that this series was limited edition, thirty bags total, and they weren’t for sale yet, but that the designer had been flattered by Jonathan’s interest. By the time he finished, he made acceptance of the extravagant gift feel like a favor she was doing him.
    By deciding to let her hair air dry—and why not since the slightly unkempt look matched the nouveau eighties vibe of her outfit—she was only a few minutes late getting downtown. She pulled her sports car up to the curb, and one of the parking attendants smiled and opened the door for her.
    “Good morning, Miss Elle,” he said as they changed places.
    The booties weren’t comfortable for walking fast, but she moved as quickly as she could, hoping to reach her desk before Cunningham realized she was late. She didn’t want to start the day bent over his desk and paddled.  
    “Elle!”
    Startled, she turned toward the unknown voice and found a camera shoved into her face.  
    “Are you really sleeping with all three of those men?”
    More cameras pushed toward her, clicking loudly. “How long have you known Jonathan and Nolan?”  
    She stumbled back, bringing her hands up. One of the building’s security guards came from nowhere, taking her elbow and quickly guiding her into the safety of the lobby.
    “You ok?”
    She looked into his avuncular eyes but couldn’t find coherent words for a few long moments. Finally she gathered herself and turned. There was now a small herd of paparazzi milling in front of the building, safely on the far side of the glass. Another security guard seemed to be yelling at them, although she couldn’t hear anything. “I’m ok,” she said, but her voice shook.
    The guard helped her bypass security, then waited with her until the elevator opened. “You want some advice?” he asked.
    She wasn’t sure she did, but she