Chapter 2
Just then, the door to the lounge swung open.
Mia stood in the doorway, dressed in a sharp power suit from the bespoke Madison Avenue tailor I usually frequented. It was hand-stitched and required a six-month waiting list just for a consultation.
The price tag was astronomical—there was no way a junior staffer like Mia, who'd only been out of school for two years, could afford that on an entry-level salary.
"I'm so sorry, but could you please let me have this room? I spoke to the manager earlier, but there must have been a mix-up with the booking. I have a very important guest arriving," Mia Bright announced.
Her cheeks flushed, making her look embarrassed for asking something so bold, but her tone remained stubborn and unyielding.
"You talked to the manager?" Lucy let out a cold, mocking laugh. "This is my family's private suite, honey. Did you seriously think you could wander in here and stage a takeover?"
Tears spilled down Mia's cheeks, her breath hitching at Lucy's sharp words. "I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry," Mia sobbed.
Lucy had always been disgusted by the way Mia hovered around Michael, and now she was officially seeing red.
"Dry up the crocodile tears. No one here is buying the act. Some things are just way out of your league—don't even try to play in this circle," Lucy snapped.
Lucy's words cut deep, and Mia finally got the message. She looked up, her eyes burning with pure resentment.
"Is this how you trust-fund girls always look down on the rest of us?" Mia snapped back.
She roughly wiped her tears away and rushed toward the exit.
But she nearly crashed into a group of guys walking in.
"What's going on here?" Michael demanded, stroking over and taking the lead as always.
Mia kept her head down, quietly sobbing into her hands.
I grabbed Lucy's arm to hold her back. The Lane family and the Jordans had too many board ties to count—this was between Michael and me, and there was no need to drag anyone else into the line of fire.
"We were just having dinner when she barged in and demanded we vacate the suite, claiming she'd cleared it with the house," I explained.
The Jordan family had a massive stake in this hospitality group, so I really wanted to know why the executive suite reserved for VIPs was suddenly being handed out like a consolation prize.
"The manager said the room was free tonight, so I... I invited Kevin," Mia stammered, glancing at me every few seconds. "I didn't know the private lounge was off-limits.
"It's all my fault. It has nothing to do with the manager."
Watching her put on such a clumsy act, I almost wanted to laugh. Mia kept insisting it had nothing to do with the manager, yet she managed to name-drop him every single time she opened her mouth.
I couldn't even be bothered to call her out on such a transparent trick, but Michael—the Wall Street wunderkind everyone in the city praised—seemed totally oblivious.
"Did you already give Kevin the room number?" Michael asked.
His voice was calm, without the slightest hint of annoyance, as if covering for Mia was just second nature to him.
"Yeah, we're supposed to meet in ten minutes," Mia replied.
"Tell him that I want to see him, and ask if he'd be cool with moving the meeting to another spot," Michael instructed.
Even though I knew how much Michael indulged Mia, I was still floored by just how far he'd bend over backwards for her.
Michael was the golden boy everyone in the county admired, but that reputation was built on his working his tail off. He had every minute of his day mapped out, never wasting a second.
He used to wait in line for an hour at some hipster bakery just to get my favorite pastries, then pull an all-nighter to catch up on his firm's portfolio.
But now, I realized I wasn't his one and only anymore.
I turned to leave the room, but Mia stepped in front of me, blocking my way.
"Emily, please don't get the wrong idea. Michael and I are just friends," Mia claimed.
Her big, round eyes shimmered with tears, looking for all the world like a kicked puppy.
Mia whimpered, "I'm totally green at the office, and I don't know the ropes yet. Michael is just being a mentor. Getting a break like this is a dream for a girl from a dead-end town like mine.
"Please don't let this cause a rift between you two. Last time, he only missed your dress fitting because of an emergency meeting he couldn't get out of..."
She just had to bring up my most humiliating moment in front of the entire class, and I finally snapped. "Oh? Just friends? Is that why Michael stays up half the night fixing your PowerPoint slides?
"Just friends? Is that why you call him to hold your hand every time you have a head cold?
"Just friends, yet you text him mirror selfies of every outfit you buy, begging him to play stylist?
"We get it, you're from a small town, but the way you act, anyone would think you were a total orphan—no family, no friends, nothing. Are you really that desperate that you have to cling to another woman's fiancé? Oh, wait—my mistake. Ex-fiancé."
Mia froze, her eyes welling up as her shoulders began to quake.
"Emily!" Michael barked, stepping in front of Mia and shoving a tissue into her hand. "That was on me. You can't just lash out at everyone else for our problems. It's not easy for Mia, starting from nothing," Michael scolded.
Mia huddled behind his broad shoulders, sobbing quietly.
"Me, lashing out? Seriously?" I asked loudly. "I haven't even started on you—the one who's actually at fault!
"If you've found a new flavor of the month, just man up and say it. I've got guys lined up from the country club to the city—believe me, losing you is a drop in the bucket!
"It's tough for her? Give me a break. Who isn't grinding these days? Tell me! Was it easy for that intern you canned last year, just because she tripped and spilled a little water? Was it easy for our team, stuck working overtime to clean up her sloppy mistakes?
"Michael, do you even remember how many people you've fired for being half as incompetent as she is?"
My nose burned, and I bolted for the exit before tears could betray me, desperate to escape that suffocating room.