Rose
It’s been a month since Victor f****d me in the elevator. He has treated me like air since that incident, and I’m not going to lie: it hurts. I don’t get how he can act so unaffected after he kissed me like I was the woman of his dreams. Is he really that cold? Or is he acting cold because he is my boss?
“Ruh-roh,” Frida comments from her table while cutting cucumbers for the lunch buffet. I’ve made friends with the blonde over too many margaritas during our after-work sessions. “You have that spaced-out expression again, Rose. Are you thinking about him again?”
“She better not,” Zarah, my second friend and the most gothic chick in the kitchen, comments with a sigh. “Our boss isn’t worth the heartbreak, Rose. He is a stone-cold player, and you can do so much better.”
My cheeks tur
