Nothing was going right in my life. I was running off two hours of sleep and two bottles of hours energy. It didn't help that those two hours of sleep were plagued with nightmares of all the ways this situation with Julian could go wrong. And that might not be so bad if I didn't forget to set my alarm in my stupor last night, making myself late to work for the first time.

Maybe someone cursed me? That would explain the stream of rotten luck I'd had. I stared at my reflection in the darkened computer screen, I was looking as frazzled as I felt. The sharp ding of a received text echoed through my small office. My wave of gratitude for the distraction was stifled by confusion at the unknown number.

[Unknown ID]: Do you have a drink preference?

I arched a brow, curiosity tickling the edges of my previous frustrations. Another ding, and another text settled on my locked screen.

[Unknown ID]: To be clear, I was asking if there is a beverage you prefer to drink in the morning. I already know your evening preference.

With an undignified snort at the implication of those words, I unlocked my phone and replied:

'Oh? And what is my evening preference?'

A playful smile flirted with the corners of my mouth. This was clearly a case of someone getting given the wrong number. Maybe it was wrong of me not to say so immediately, but I needed a bit of a pick me up at the moment.

[Unknown ID]: Well, it was only one night but I'd say you have a palette for deep, full bodied flavors.

Heat blossomed across my face at those words. I should stop them before they got too explicit about whatever night they had spent with whoever they were attempting to reach:

'I hate to be the one to tell you this, but you've been had.'

It was a full minute before I received a response, not that I expected one.

[Unknown ID]: So, the wine wasn't to your tastes, then?

An uneasy feeling began to settle like a rock in the pit of my stomach:

'Wine? So, that's what you were talking about. Maybe consider your phrasing next time.'

I attached a crying, laughing emoji at the end, hoping that me and the stranger share in the humor of that miscommunication.

[Unknown ID]: Interesting.

[Unknown ID]: your job must be quite boring if these are the thoughts occupying your mind this early in the morning.

They had to be teasing me. Well, I could return the favor:

'And you must have a lot of time to waste if you're texting strangers.'

There was only a short lull and then a message that made my blood turn cold.

[Unknown ID]: Is this the kind of conversations you have with strangers, Kate?

The uneasiness from early made itself known once more. Whoever this was they knew me, or at least my name, and that I was at work (though that could've been a lucky guess). But the fact that they knew my name and personal number made me more than a little uncomfortable:

'Okay, who is this? How did you get this number?'

[Unknown ID]: Kate, relax. This is Julian.

Julian?!

"Oh my god!" I shrieked, dropping my phone. It clanged loudly as it bounced off my desk, knocking into my knee and hitting the floor. My heart was thumping hard against my chest. I had thought—implied and completely misunderstood what that conversation was about. And if it was only with a stranger it would be something I could laugh off.

No, I'd come across as a pervert—to my boss. 

It was the sleep deprivation and bad start to my morning. If it was any other day, there is no way I wouldn't have figured out who I was talking to. God, nothing was going my way today.

I bent over and reached for my phone, cringing at the fact that I was constantly making a fool of myself to the last person I'd ever want to see me this way. Well, maybe this exchange would work in my favor for making him less interested. Yes, find the silver lining, Kate. That's the only way to survive this.

"Kate?"

I popped up in surprise at the sudden intrusion, banging my head on my desk. A jolt of pain throbbed through my skull and settled at the base of my neck. My hissed curse echoed in the silence that followed as I rubbed at the aching spot on my head. God must hate me.

"Kate? Are you okay?" The gentle probing voice only made my mood more foul. This is not his fault, Kate. Reel in the crazy.

"Yep. All good." I forced a tight smile onto my face as I eased myself out from under my desk with caution. "What do you need, Lucas?"

"It's Candy—"

She was one of the newer hirers in the mailroom, Candace, the other mail clerks called her Candy behind her back. I assumed it was because of her jovial disposition and never speaking ill of anyone. Those were the type of people who were always met with polarizing opinions. They were either loved or hated.

I rubbed at the crease forming between my brows. "Is this something you can't work out between yourselves?"

"I saw her getting reamed out by Mr. Monet." 

That was the last thing that I wanted to deal with at the moment, and I was tempted for a second to pretend I hadn't heard what Lucas said. But it was my job to take care of problems like this. As much as I resented the mailroom, I took my job seriously.

"...what floor?"

"Marketing," he said, shifting from one foot to the other. "I rushed down here to tell you cause I thought you should know."

I snatched my blazer off the back of my chair and headed to the door. "Walk with me. Tell me the situation." 

# # #

There was a small crowd gathering by the time Lucas and I arrived. People were standing up at their cubicles to get a better few of the drama playing out before them. The competitive nature of working in this line of work and in a company people would bribe, kill, and scheme to get a position at—well, these kinds of scenes were not unheard of.

Honestly, most of these people were more than happy to watch. It broke up the monotony of it all, and gave them something to talk about. As long as they weren't the ones standing on the chopping block. Sure, PK Corporations wasn't as bad as other companies but some things were to be expected. If you wanted to survive, a thick skin was necessary.

A couple of the other girls from the mailroom had gathered, huddled a few feet from Candace. They were wearing expressions of disgust and concern. They caught sight of me as I made my way forward. Not that they could miss me. I stood a foot above most of the people there.

Their concern settled into relief, which would flatter me at any other time. I shifted my attention from them to the small, hunched frame of Candace. Her long, dark hair hung like a curtain blocking her face from my view, but the tips of her ears were exposed—and a bright shade of red.

At her feet were scattered envelopes and a couple of smaller packages. Mr. Monet was leaning in over her, red faced and sweating. "You think your excuses and apologies will fix this mess?" 

"N-no. I'm not trying to make excuses—"

"Hah! Do you have any idea what your incompetence has done? How hard is it to make sure the mail gets sorted? Even a child could accomplish this much."

Something in my mind snapped at his tirade. Lucas had informed me of the jist of the problem. In fact, it was not a problem unknown to me, thanks to my interactions with Julian yesterday. Somehow, Mr. Monet was trying to make the mailroom take responsibility. But I was confident that I ran a tight ship, there was no way that this was the fault of myself or my clerks. And I wasn't going to stand around and let him or anyone else say otherwise.

I stepped up beside Candace, pulling all the attention. She turned, looking up with glistening eyes and shame stained cheeks. Something hot and oily slithered through my veins. It took all my self control to keep myself from attacking Mr. Monet.

With a slow breath, I took my blazer and placed it around her shoulders. "Lucas, please escort Candace to the cafeteria and get yourselves a coffee. On me."

Lucas didn't need to be told twice. He rushed over and pulled Candace away from the scene of the crime.

"Hey—"

I ignored Mr. Monet, not even sparing him a glance. "Ladies—please clean up this mess, and see to it that everything gets to where it belongs. Then you can join Candace and Lucas in the cafeteria for an early break."

"Is our coffee free too?"

"Of course."

They shared a smile and rushed over, quickly and quietly clearing up the mess.

"Hey! Who do you think you are?!" A heavy, hot hand grabbed onto my arm.

I turned my face to him then, eyes fixing on the hand wrapped around my wrist. Those stubby, artificially tanned fingers standing out against my pale and freckled skin. My lip curled back into a sneer when his grip tightened. Was he literally trying to strong arm me, right now?

A scoff fell from my mouth as I lifted my gaze to his.

"You think this is funny?" Spittle dotted his lips. "What's your name and ID number? I'm going to report this behavior to the Director."

I opened my mouth, a sharp retort forming on my tongue. But before I could respond a familiar voice cut over the rising chatter. "What is going on?" 

Mr. Monet released me like I was going to set him on fire. And I turned to see Alex stepping out of the crowd, a deep frown set on his face. It was the first time I'd ever seen him make that kind of expression. But now was not the right time for me to admire the novelty of it.

"I was discussing and correcting the mistake made by an employee—"

"Is that what you call correcting? Interesting," I mumbled, unable to maintain my patience.

"When this employee got involved and showed a blatant lack of respect and insubordination."

A harsh, barking laugh broke in my chest. I twisted away from Alex and took a step closer to Mr. Monet, looming over him as I intended. "Excuse my late introduction, my name is Kate Andrews and I'm the manager of the mailroom."

His gaze shifted away from my face, and I noticed the slight tremble of his lips. All that false fury and indignation from earlier evaporating like water in the desert. He reached up and scratched at his chin. "You should have said something sooner."

Why? So you wouldn't look like such a fool now? I forced a smile onto my face, not finished with this prick. I was in a foul mood and now I had the perfect outlet. 

I stepped away. "I was only made aware of the seriousness of the situation the Marketing team is in. If this is the fault of one of my clerks, I'll gladly take responsibility. That is my job as the manager, after all."

"You don't need to do that, Kate," Alex said. "These things happen sometimes."

"He's right—It's just stressful for us at the moment. I might have gotten a little too heated."

Oh, he wanted to backpedal now that the department head was involved? There was no way I was going to let that happen.

"No, this is important. The relationship and trust between our departments is no small matter. Problems like this shouldn't be overlooked. What if it happens again? I'd be a negligent manager if I didn't look into this matter."

Mr. Monet cleared his throat. "It's fine. Your clerk apologized already—that's more than enough."

"Honestly, it's not any trouble. I keep track of everything that passes through that Mailroom. It won't take but ten minutes for us to resolve this matter." This was one of those moments I was happy to be an ambitious workaholic.

Alex let out a soft chuckle, and I turned to him with a bit of surprise. He covered his mouth with his hand, but he couldn't hide the amusement in his gaze. Perhaps, he had something against Mr. Monet as well.

"...right. I'm a bit busy at the moment, but I'll try to find some time—"

"Let's make time right now."

"Right now?" Mr. Monet paled at Alex's comment.

"Well, you were already late to our brainstorming meeting. So, since who's at fault is such a distraction for you. I'd rather handle this and get back to the work that actually needs doing." He never lost his easy grin but the unspoken displeasure was obvious by his remarks. It was the first time I was witnessing this side of him. And I couldn't say I disliked it.

He turned to me, tucking his hands into his pockets. "Lead the way, Kate."