The Way You Tempt Me. Elle Wright

      “Zara, stop pacing.” Jeffrey’s executive assistant, Alma, leaned back in her chair. “You already have more than enough steps to meet your daily goal.”

      “Girl, I didn’t even realize I was doing that.” Zara stopped in front of the desk and picked up one of Alma’s paper weights. “Is this new?”

      “Yes,” Alma chirped. “I picked it up on my trip to Alaska.”

      The polar bear stared back at Zara and she set the potential weapon down. “I’ve never met anyone who collected paper weights.”

      Alma winked. “Just like you’ve never met anyone who was attracted to Richard ‘I am not a crook’ Nixon.” She waggled her eyebrows.

      Zara giggled, recalling the day that sweet, motherly Alma admitted she’d fantasized about the thirty-seventh president. It was akin to her own mother mentioning that she once imagined Billy Dee Williams in place of her father during sex. Yeah, that was really a conversation.

      “At least you’re not fantasizing on that current president. I might have to end our work friendship.”

      Alma waved a hand of dismissal. “I like handsome and debonair, not orange.”

      One of the things Zara loved about Alma was that she wasn’t one of those people who got offended when called on their privilege. They’d had many heated debates and still remained cool, sharing walks during lunch and even meeting for dinner after work several times.

      “Anyway”—Alma leaned for ward—“are you ready to get that promotion, girly?”

      Zara felt her face heat up. “I’m nervous. He’s been in there a long time. Who is he with?”

      The older woman rolled her eyes. “Damn Larry, the kiss-ass.”

      “Stop, Alma.” Zara bit her lip to contain her laughter. “Larry isn’t that bad.”

      “When he’s not here, he’s great!”

      “I think he’s cool.”

      “Whatever,” Alma grumbled. “You’re only saying that because you think he’s hot.”

      “No comment.”

      “Hot” was the right adjective to describe Larry Boston. The Brooklyn native had swagger in waves and knew how to talk to women in a way that made panties melt off—not that Zara had any personal knowledge of this phenomenon. They’d attended Yale Law School together and struck up a conversation after a particularly hard exam on torts. He was the coolest, popular with everyone in his class, and a natural bullshit artist. He’d even recommended her to Jeffrey. Their friendship was unconventional, considering Larry asked her out on a date at least once a week, and liked to tell her crazy stories about his racist family. Zara had never dated a white man before, and wasn’t sure if she wanted to. But she did put him in the friend category. They’d worked several deals together, and he’d gone to bat for her more times than she could count.

      “Besides, we’re friends,” Zara added. “He’s good people.”

      “Normally, I don’t doubt your intuition, honey. But we’ll have to agree to disagree about kiss-ass Larry. I told you already—”

      “That you don’t trust him, and I shouldn’t, either,” she finished for her buddy. “I know. We’ve had this conversation so many times, I’ve lost count.”

      Alma folded her arms across her chest. “I just feel like I owe you my opinion. I am your elder.”

      Zara laughed then, and didn’t even bother to hold it in. “You’re not that much older than me, Alma.”

      “I have a child your age, girly. So, yes, I’m that much older than you.”

      “Oh, please. You’re young at heart.”

      “My heart might be young, but these knees are old as hell.”

      Giggling, Zara shook her head. “You’re too much.”

      Laughter from behind Jeffrey’s office door drew her attention there. Seconds later, the door opened. Jeffrey and Larry emerged, all smiles and handshakes.

      Jeffrey clasped Larry’s shoulder fondly. “Son, I can’t wait to see your proposal in action. With the rising unrest in this country, positioning ourselves as an agency that is invested in diversity, equity, and inclusion is just what this company needs. We’ll schedule a meeting to make the big announcement to the team. Partner.”

      Zara blinked. Partner?

      “Thanks, Jeff,” Larry said. “It’s time to step into the future. We can’t survive without making changes to the culture. We start here at Huntington, and the rest will follow.”

      With narrowed eyes, she crossed her arms over her breasts. That. Bastard. Larry wasn’t racist, but he certainly didn’t make diversity, equity, and inclusion his mission. That was all her. Her idea to take Huntington to the next level. And he’d just stolen it.

      Vaguely she heard Alma next to her muttering curses about kiss-ass, pansy-ass, stupid-ass entitled assholes. If she wasn’t so furious, she’d be laughing at the incognito lesson on how to call someone an “ass” in as many ways as possible without drawing attention to themselves.

      Larry’s eyes widened when he noticed her standing there, and he quickly averted his gaze. “I have a call to take in five, Jeff. We’ll talk later?”

      “We definitely will.” Jeff glanced at her. “Zara, step into my office.”

      She followed Jeff into his office, glaring at Larry the entire way. Once inside, Jeff directed her to have a seat.

      “It’s not good news, Zara,” Jeff said, not even giving her a chance to sit, so she didn’t. “I wanted to give you the promotion because your work is impeccable. But I have a slew of producing agents and I want someone who will bring something new to the fold. Fortunately for Huntington Sports, I believe Larry has what it takes.”

      “Jeff, I have worked my ass off for you. Seven years and I’ve brought clients you would have never represented otherwise, had I not been here. I overheard your conversation with Larry, and I hope you know that his ideas are my ideas. He just got to you first.”

      As if she’d not spoken a word, Jeff eyed the computer and typed furiously on his keyboard. “Zara, I know you’re upset. Like I said, I value your contribution to the team, but it’s not your turn. Maybe once Peterson retires, you’ll have your chance.” He glanced at his watch. “Now I have a two o’clock that I can’t be late for. Have Alma put you on my calendar for tomorrow? I’d like to discuss your role in Larry’s new plan for the company.”

      Ain’t this about a . . . “I’m not available tomorrow.” There. She’d managed to say it without screaming at the top of her lungs.

      Jeff peered up at her. “Excuse me?”

      Swallowing, she tugged at her suit jacket. “Since it’s obvious that you don’t appreciate me enough to even listen to me, I can’t be bothered with a meeting tomorrow or any other day. Let’s see how many of my clients stay with you when I leave. I quit.”

      Turning on her heels, she walked out—without slamming the door behind her. Okay, you got this, Zara. She ignored Alma’s pleas to stop and hurried through the hallway, down the stairs to the fifth floor, where her office was.

      Once inside, she closed the door, willing not a single tear to fall. Not until she left the building. She made quick work of packing up her things, stuffing everything into her briefcase and her large handbag. There wasn’t a lot there: only small trinkets given to her by clients, awards, and a picture of her, her mother, and her sister at the Eiffel Tower in Paris. She purposefully kept her office bare, just in case she had to leave in a hurry. It was no secret the sports business was cutthroat. She had to be able to leave without making multiple trips.

      The click of her