Thank you for your continued interest and support. I appreciate it. I do not own Glee or the characters, neither do I own Naughty Boss.

THE EMAILS

Subject: I slept with him.

Like, I really slept with him...

Your bestie,

Mercedes

Subject: Re: I slept with him.

You really slept with who? The blind date guy?

And why are you emailing me from a brand new Gmail account?

Your bestie,

Santana

Subject: Re: I slept with him.

No. My boss...Mr. Evans! Oh, the new account thing is a super long story.

Your bestie,

Mercedes

Subject: Re: I slept with him.

What the FUCK? Are you OUT OF YOUR GODDAMN MIND, MERCEDES?

What the hell is wrong with you?

How was it though? :)

Oh, I like super long stories.

Your bestie,

Santana

Subject: Re: I slept with him.

It was the best sex I've ever had in my life!

San, I don't think I'll ever be able to stop replaying it in my mind. And I don't think I can go back to work on Monday and look at him with a straight face after this...

I'll be at your place in five.

Your bestie,

Mercedes

SAM...THE BOSS

My weekend flew by in a restless blur, punctuated by mental replays of me having sex with Mercedes in her office.

I'd honestly never thought about the same woman after I had finished having sex with them. But the more I attempted to stop thinking about Mercedes, the more images of her writhing against my lips came to mind.

And the more images of her bent over her desk and saying my name, invaded my every thought.

Not only that, but I haven't heard from her today. She didn't answer my "What I Need Today" email with her usual "Ok" either.

And she was already more than two hours late.

After a while I gave up.

I figured she was trying to pull that I-stayed-late-Friday-so-I'm-coming-late-Monday bullshit, so I decided to think nothing of it.

I tried my best to distract myself until our two o'clock meeting, because Mercedes knew better than to miss any day of work for the next month, since it was acquisition season.

As I was reading through the newest stack of approved book deals, a soft knock came to my door.

"Yes?"

I set my papers down, expecting to see her, but it was only Artie and a catering delivery guy.

"Morning," Artie said as he walked over to my desk. "I wanted to come early and treat you and Mercedes to a late lunch if you don't mind."

"I don't mind," I lied, motioning for the delivery guy to set out the food on my desk.

"Wild weekend?" Artie asked.

"No. What makes you ask that?"

"You look like you're on edge, like you haven't slept in days or you're stressed about something. Or maybe it's..." He paused, letting out a long exasperated sigh. "Are you bracing to tell me about an upcoming tabloid story?" He shook his head. "You were doing so well, Sam. So well..."

"No." I rolled my eyes. "And I'm not on edge. If you must know, I didn't sleep well last night and I still have to get through a three-hour session with you and Mercedes that starts at any moment."

"Speaking of Mercedes..." he started to say, but I interrupted him.

"She's allergic to garlic," I said to the delivery guy, picking up the basket of bread he'd set down. "Can you replace this with wheat rolls?"

"Yes sir."

"And this." I gestured to a bottle of caramel syrup he had set out. "She'll think this is hazelnut and have a coughing spell if she drinks a sip of it. Take this as well and bring up chocolate syrup instead."

"Yes sir." The guy picked up the offending items and headed to the door. "Be right back."

Artie raised his eyebrow, looking completely confused.

"Have you always memorized your assistant's food preferences?"

"Only the ones who last over a year."

"Ah." He chuckled. "Well, like I was saying, Apple and Microsoft called to tell me that you still haven't returned their calls about Mercedes' reference, so you really need to do that at some point this week. You do plan on giving her a good recommendation, don't you?"

My phone rang before I could address that question.

"Yes?" I answered.

"Good morning, Mr. Evans," a soft voice said down the line. "This is Suzanne in Human Resources. I'm sorry I'm notifying you so late, but your executive assistant called in earlier and put in a notice for a week of sick leave."

"A week?"

"Yes sir. Would you like me to fill her space with a temp during this time?"

"No, thank you."

I hung up and leaned back in my chair. Mercedes never used sick leave, even when she was actually sick.

She'd come to countless meetings coughing and sneezing when she probably should've stayed home, so I wasn't sure if she was using our recent tryst as leverage, or if she'd somehow become deathly ill in a matter of forty eighty hours.

"Sam?" Artie attempted to get my attention. "Sam?"

I ignored him, pulled out my phone and sent Mercedes an email.

Subject: Sick Leave.

You better have a goddamn doctor's note...

Samuel Evans

CEO, Evans Publishing

Her response was immediate.

Subject: Re: Sick Leave.

And if I don't?

Mercedes Jones

Executive Assistant to Samuel Evans

CEO Evans Publishing

Subject: Re: Sick Leave.

If you don't, I suggest you call HR right now and rescind your 'sick leave' since I already know it's fake. Then I suggest you magically appear in my office within the next hour so we can prepare for next week's round of author acquisitions.

Samuel Evans

CEO, Evans Publishing

Subject: Re: Sick Leave.

Oh, that's right. Next week is very important...

I'll probably be sick next week, too. I'll probably still be recovering from something.

Maybe if I'm gone for a while you'll see how hard my job really is. Maybe then you'll appreciate me more.

Mercedes Jones

Executive Assistant to Samuel Evans

CEO, Evans Publishing

Subject: Re: Sick Leave.

You will not probably be sick next week. You will bring your ass to work.

It doesn't take two weeks to recover from getting properly fucked.

And I'd appreciate you a lot more if you came into work today.

Samuel Evans

CEO, Evans Publishing

I closed my inbox, not waiting for her response. Then I looked up and noticed Artie staring at me as if he'd just seen a ghost.

"What?" I said.

"You screwed her, didn't you?"

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me." He didn't flinch. "You slept with Mercedes. You slept with her, and that's why you haven't called those companies back. It's exactly why you don't want her to leave."

"That's not why I don't want her to leave."

"So you're admitting to the part about sleeping with her?"

"No," I said, denying it and spending countless minutes attempting to calm him down. I knew he'd have a heart attack if he knew the truth.

When I was sure he was convinced, I pulled out the files for today's meeting so the two of us could go through them...alone.

As Artie began to organize his own files, I opened a new tab in my browser and looked up a local florist so I could order 'Get Well' flowers for Mercedes.

It was really so I could send her a more direct 'Bring your ass to work' note.

I picked out a seven-layer bouquet of lilies since she'd once mentioned loving those in a novel meeting, and I was halfway to the purchase screen when I stalled.

What the hell was I doing?

Playing into her hands?

I closed the screen and clicked my pen.

I could survive a week without her help since she wanted to continue to play games.

Her job can't be that hard. I'm pretty sure I can do it...and do it even better than she could.

It just can't be that complicated.

Stay safe!