Serena Vale
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By Sunday afternoon, I’d gone through more than ten different outfits, one mental breakdown, and one moment where I considered calling HR to confirm if mandatory Sunday meetings with my boss were part of my job description.
Ralph had told me to wear something nice, but I wasn’t sure what that meant. Did nice mean professional? Seductive? Or I want to talk business but also bend you over my desk?
I was tempted to ask him what it meant but I knew he was just going to use that as an opportunity to tease me.
Lila walked in, took one look around, and shook her head. “You’re so far gone.”
“I’m not gone,” I argued. “Just help me pick something, okay?” I gestured to the numerous clothes thrown on my bed. “I need something neutral.”
“You’re meeting a man who knows what you s
