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player most of his life, he can’t just switch it off.
    I’m ok with that.
    Especially after last night.
    That…
    That was the stuff of Hollywood movies.
    I hear the elevator arrive and it makes my heart skip a beat. It has to be Brad, arriving for the morning.
    How do I greet him? With a kiss on the cheek?
    Or will that be too much?
    Nerves flood through my body as the elevator doors open and his tall, manly physique strolls out.
    Oh… that suit looks so good on him, clinging to his broad shoulders. Knowing what is under that suit makes me even happier.
    What do I even say to him?
    ‘ Hi. Thanks for the best sex I have ever had .’
    No. Nope. That would be too much.
    But what should I say?
    He walks closer but his eyes don’t engage in contact with me.
    Maybe he’s nervous about his reputation? Dating the coffee girl is a step down from his usual supermodel girls.
    He keeps walking…
    Right past me.
    What?
    He must have seen me. There is no way that he could have walked past me and not have noticed me. I am standing right next to where he walked. There is no way that he could not have noticed me.
    Maybe the work problem has still got him distracted?
    He walks into his office and my eyes are glued to the door. It is a few moments before I notice Nancy staring at me.
    “Don’t worry, dear,” she says in a caring tone. “He is a busy man. I’m sure he would have said hello if he wasn’t so busy. He has a lot on his mind.”
    I don’t respond.
    Instead, I give Nancy a small smile and disappear back into the room with the coffee machine.
    Shit.
    Damn.
    Fuck.
    What was I thinking?
    The man is a player. Always was and always will be. He probably doesn’t even remember my name.
    All men are the same – they just want sex.
    The morning passes and Nancy asks for a few coffees to be made, and I deliver them promptly to her desk.
    This is a job. Nothing more. This is the job that lets me stay in the city. A well-paying job making coffees.
    That’s it.
    Nothing more.
    After the morning passes slowly, I hear a heavy knock on the door to my room next to the kitchen.
    It’s Brad.
    He puts his head around the corner, “Sorry, Nancy is out to lunch. I’ll have two lattes, Harper. One with sugar and one without.”
    What?
    After the moments we spent together, that is all he can say?
    There is no emotion in his statement – it is stony and cold. His statement was only a coffee order. I could have been anybody in any café – but I’m not.
    I’m the woman he spent a night of passion with.
    Maybe he has short-term memory lost.
    Or maybe not.
    Maybe he’s just a bastard. Yep. That is it.
    It wasn’t a night full of emotion.
    It was lust.
    Dirty lust.
    I have been used and it makes me feel disgusting - like I need a shower to wash away his touch. He used me for sex. Nothing more.
    Bastard.
    All men are bastards.
    The rest of my day is filled with increasing rage, and I am lucky that I don’t explode.
     
     
     

Chapter 13
     
     
     
     

 
     
     
    “It’s just a job Harper.”
    “It was more than that,” I reply to Nicole as I swig the rest of my wine glass and reach for the bottle. “Damn. The bottle is empty already. I’ll get the next one in the cupboard.”
    “Settle down Harper. There’s no need to waste all your first paycheck on drinking two bottles of wine.”
    “Maybe that’s why he is paying me so much, because he knows I will spend at least a third of my pay on alcohol after dealing with that ass.”
    “Maybe.”
    I sigh as I sit back down on the couch, “How could I have been so stupid, Nicole? How could I have fallen for that guy? I knew his history. I knew his story. I knew that he was a player. That was clear from the moment I stepped in his office. But I was still stupid enough to fall for his game.”
    “If it makes you feel any better, he has got a good game.”
    “Nope. That doesn’t make me feel any better at all.”
    “There would hardly be a girl in New York City that wouldn’t