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Chapter 3

Chapter 3

I could only recall one other time in my life when I experienced the same amount of terror as I felt in this precise moment.

It was my sophomore year of college. I received an urgent e-mail that I was to report to the Dean's office because of the suspicion my work was under. My professor thought I had plagiarized an essay I wrote on the life and death of fashion designer, Alexander McQueen. My initial reaction upon reading the e-mail included whimpers of panic, out-of-breath hysteria, and ended with a minor hyperventilation attack. 

I hardly got anxious or flustered over anything but you have to understand that to a true writer, the accusation of plagiarism is as inhumane of an insult as kicking a puppy in face. We don't like it. Up until now, it had to be the most horrifying moment of my life. I practically crawled into the Dean's office, ready to collapse from my fear, because the only thing worse than being a suspect of plagiarism is being kicked out of an Ivy League. Everyone knows that once you're out, there was no way back in.

My despair was short lived when it was revealed that my roommate had accidentally submitted one of the drafts of my essay as her own assignment because we unfortunately shared the same printer. I wasn't in the least bit of trouble but I will never forget the churning in my stomach or the fluttering in my chest.

That brings us back to what was currently happening. The feeling I had sitting across the Dean and my professor awaiting my treacherous fate, was the same as I felt now, staring into Nate Chester's eyes.

Pure. Sheer. Terror.

I could only describe it as an out of body experience. My mind began to replay flashbacks of his warm flesh gently pressing against mine causing my body to heat up like a fire pit. I couldn't tell if I was breathing because everything internally was numb. A waterfall of sweat dripped down my back, which made moving in this tight dress hopeless. I felt like my arms had fallen off, my legs as liquid as water, and if this was physically possible, my head began to float.

I was completely paralyzed.

Which gave me the right to completely freak out and mentally scream in my head:

Oh.

My.

GOD.

While Terry went around the room introducing each intern, me and Nate kept our eyes locked on each other. As much horror as my heart possessed, there was no mistaking his unbelievable attractiveness. There he stood in a navy suit, smoldering look with pursed lips and suave hair, enough to make any woman go crazy.

This couldn't be possible. I prayed for years that my life would get somewhat interesting but the universe didn't have to shove this curve ball down my throat. How could I not have known Nate was the heir to an empire? I should have done more research. Had I known Nate would be the next owner of Forward, I sure as hell would have stayed far away from him last night.

As if that weren't enough, we just went over the 'no sexual harassment' policy and all these laws on the restriction of personal relationships in the office. Of course the 'non-fraternization' policy is bolded, italicized, and underlined, twice, and I'm confident that what we did last night breaks every single rule in the packet.

Sure, we didn't have sex. But we were damn close.

Normally, I had a grip on things - my schedule, my work, and more importantly, my emotions. I was the girl that people accused of not having enough fun. I could only remember two parties that I went to in college but I have plenty of awards and medals to prove what's actually important to me (and it's not losing four straight games of beer pong). My achievements clearly defined that I knew my priorities - I recognized what was good and bad for me. Usually, I tended to stay away from temptation and trouble. I hardly indulged in spontaneous behavior making me far from reckless. When it just so happens that things somehow do get out of my control, I normally handled it with grace and maturity.