Mistaking My Rage for True Love

Summary

Everyone at Harrison & Cross knew I was Jesse Wyatt’s personal martyr.

I was the girl who downed four double scotches to close a deal for him until an ambulance had to pump saline into my veins at midnight. I was the associate who handed him the keys to the multinational logistics account, gift-wrapped, just so the board would greenlight his promotion to senior VP. The bullpen called me his doormat. They said he was using me.

I didn't see it that way. In my warped, twenty-something logic, emotional exploitation was practically foreplay.