At 5am the next morning, Dusty woke up alone in his bed, his covers dangling off the bed, drool still dripping out of his mouth. He pawed at the nightstand for his ringing phone. The alarm was grating but the only surefire way to get him up. Swiftly pushing himself to his feet, Dusty headed to the kitchen to turn on the coffee pot. He wiped his face and brushed his teeth, then donned a tank top and a pair of shorts. Dusty chugged back a cup of caffeine before pulling on a pair of sneakers. His destination: the apartment building’s gym.

After an hour of running and lifting weights, he stood at the elevator’s entrance, legs too worn to take the stairs as he had earlier. He tipped his head back to take a long swig from his water bottle just as the elevator doors parted.

“Now, isn’t that a sight I’d love to see again,” a deep voice drawled.

“Shit,” Dusty cursed in his head as he brought his face down to meet the eyes of his most regretful one-night-stand, Jeremiah Towers. The guy should’ve been Dusty’s type with his sculpted body, but his beauty couldn’t make up for his faults.

When Dusty failed to respond quick enough, the taller man invaded his personal space. “When can we get together again?” He reached a hand toward Dusty’s face, scowling when Dusty side-stepped him.

“Sorry, Jeremiah,” Dusty averted his gaze, rolling his water bottle between his hands, “But I’ve told you before, I’m not interested in- In pursuing anything more with you.” Dusty chose his words carefully.

Jeremiah smirked, leaning a muscled arm against the wall, effectively blocking Dusty’s route to the elevator. And a darting of Dusty’s eyes revealed that the man could easily keep him from reaching the stairway as well. “Babe,” Jeremiah started, “Why deny what worked so well?” 

“Because it didn’t work, motherfucker,” Dusty wanted to shout. But this wasn’t turf where he vented those kinds of feelings. And Jeremiah knew it. Instead, he inhaled a calming breath to say, “I have someone I’m seeing.”

Jeremiah laughed in his face, spit flying onto Dusty’s cheek. He cleaned it of under the guise of wiping sweat on his face, yet Jeremiah’s eyes still narrowed at the movement.

“I know you’re not a one-man kind of gal.” His voice grated on Dusty’s ears. “You’re a whore and you know it.”

And that was why he wasn’t Dusty’s type. Their one night together demonstrated how Jeremiah wasn't the charming man he had pretended to be on their previous encounters. He had a habit of emasculating, slut-shaming, and being the rudest son-of-a-bitch Dusty had ever had the displeasure of meeting. And he had dialed it up to eleven after they finished fucking. That kind of talk wasn’t a part of Dusty’s play and Jeremiah didn’t even restrict it to the bedroom. He was just a bastard.

Ignoring Dusty’s tension, Jeremiah leaned into him, tracing his ear with lips as he spoke. “Wear some lingerie for me next time. Gotta do something for those tits.” Dusty fought not to recoil from Jeremiah’s touch and the leer he used as he scanned his body. 

Jeremiah strolled away. Dusty pushed at the elevator button again before deciding against waiting, walking quickly to the stairs. Jeremiah’s laughter seemed to echo in the halls all the way up the four flights to Dusty’s apartment. Dusty fumbled with his door keys for a moment, his breathing escalating. His sight was narrowing. His blood pounded in his ears. Laughter made his skin crawl. 

Finally, he was able to turn the lock on his door, falling to the floor against it when he was inside. He sank further into the ground, his shoulder and face against the cool tile. Dusty focused on that feeling, the sensation a relief against his heated skin. He stared forward, pushing the image of Jeremiah’s smirk out of his head, tuning into the couch in his living room. Dusty scanned the space, seeing the plush blanket that his grandparents sent him last Christmas, the book of Sudoku still open to his most recent puzzle, the picture of him and his family on his bookshelf. His breath evened out. He pushed away from the floor, the door there for his head to fall into. Checking his watch, he saw that it was already 6:30. His panic attack had probably lasted 10 minutes, one of his shorter ones. He could still feel the tremors in his body though.

What a great way to start the morning.

Josie gazed at her mahogany desk as she entered her office, the top clear of any papers. The corner of her mouth lifted into a half-smile at the sight. She could never be unimpressed with her assistant’s tenacity. Every evening, she left smatterings of work on the desk, only to return to find everything organized in neat files in the drawers. Or in the hands of Dusty as he entered the room to brief her on her day, as he was doing now. 

Josie sunk into her leather seat. Dusty stood in front of her, his eyes on what he held. He'd been there at least an hour longer than her, preparing for her arrival. He placed several labeled papers on her desk then opened up his tablet. While Josie needed paper in front of her, Dusty solely worked digitally. After years of limited or no access to technology, the digital age was still somewhat foreign to Josie but Dusty was always able to accommodate her needs. In front of her was a folder of particular importance, one Dusty started with.

“Last evening, I met with Grace and Venn, as instructed, and was able to discuss initial plans for the house. I also set up another meeting for Thursday morning to start developing specs based on yo-“

“I actually need you to meet with them today,” Josie interjected. She reached down to her purse to pull out an envelope, not missing the way Dusty’s heartbeat picked up at the unexpected change. His expression had barely shifted though, just dark eyes peeking up at Josie as she slid the envelope toward him.

“You need this dropped off to them? I can arrange for a courier to bring it over.” 

“No, I need you to take it, I’ll have another assistant fill your role until you’re back.” At that statement, Dusty’s face changed more, eyebrows pinching together, lips pulling down into a frown. He hid it from Josie’s view by reaching down to pick up the letter.

Josie wanted to laugh but she held it from Dusty’s sensitive ears. “You’re the only one I trust to take it.” And that could not be truer. Dusty had worked by her side for the past four years and never betrayed her confidence. She couldn’t send someone too curious for their own good. Josie also used paper because she never wanted to leave a trail for the wrong people to find. "And, I'd like you to ensure that it meets Grace or Venn's hands directly."

Dusty smoothed his face back out as he straightened, but Josie heard the erratic pump of his heartbeat. But there was only so much she could say to reassure him of his position. “Understood, Josie, I’ll leave you in the care of Nicole.” Dusty left the office, his fingers tapping away on the tablet screen, likely writing notes for Nicole about the rest of Josie’s morning meeting. Even with the door closed behind him, Josie picked up on his conversation with Nicole.

“I’m off to deliver something for Ms. Pullman.” Nicole started to protest but Dusty continued. “I’ve emailed you everything else she needs to be briefed on, along with her schedule. If you have questions, I should be able to talk even as I’m gone. At the latest, I'll be back by lunch.”

“Are you sure you can’t have someone else take the package?” Nicole pleaded. “I’m sure I could take it in your place.”

“Ms. Pullman has insisted that I take it.”

Nicole’s voice lowered. “But, you know no one else works with her as well as you do.”

“That’s because the rest of you look ready to cry when I talk to you,” Josie grumbled to herself. Though Dusty was always nervous when he came to the office, that seemed to be his perpetual state and it rarely affected his work. Every other assistant seemed frightened of Josie but at this point, she didn’t try hard to abate their fear. To be fair, it was warranted considering what she could do to them.

After Dusty’s departure, Josie called out, “Nicole!” The girl flew through the doors as if she had pressed herself against them. Josie swiveled to the windows, wanting to giggle. Even though she preferred Dusty’s work, she would enjoy the entertainment of seeing everyone else sweat for the next few hours.