To the right was the coffee bar, which rivaled anything you’d find in a coffee shop. At the press of a button one could enjoy a cappuccino, macchiato, latte, or any number of beverages. An array of coffee and tea accompaniments resided next to the space-age coffee machine, from flavored syrups to individually wrapped chocolate-covered spoons.

As usual, Samiah opted for straight black coffee. On occasion she’d add a couple pumps of toffee syrup when she was feeling fancy. Today wasn’t a fancy kind of day. The lingering effects of those Moscow Mules from Saturday night demanded nothing less than the strongest coffee she could find.

“Hey, hey, hey! It’s our own Real Housewife!”

Samiah cringed at the sound of Peter Stawell’s voice. She turned and immediately wanted to slap the jovial grin from his face. Why did everyone think this was some kind of joke? This was her life that had been plastered across the Internet for everybody and their mamas to judge.

Peter nudged her arm. “I have to say, I’m disappointed a catfight didn’t break out between you and that girl with the braids. She looks like she can throw down.”

“Oh, do you want me to contact her for you?” Samiah asked with exaggerated enthusiasm. “I’m sure she’d be willing to demonstrate by kicking your ass.”

Peter’s smile disappeared. “I was just kidding around. Sheesh, Samiah, don’t take things so seriously.”

Yep. She should have taken the day off.

A week ago, she would have apologized to Peter for being a bitch. After what happened Saturday night—and the public’s reaction to it, how people now felt as if her private life was a free-for-all—she felt justified in her bitchiness. She had no intention of apologizing ever again.

She grabbed her coffee mug from underneath the espresso spout and started for her office. She dipped her head down to blow the hot coffee and nearly crashed into a firm chest covered with an oatmeal-colored vest.

“Whoa.” Two strong hands gripped her upper arms, steadying her.

Samiah looked up and had to remind herself to take a breath. Who’d ordered this midmorning snack in khakis and loafers?

“You okay?” he asked.

His eyes were the prettiest shade of brown. Almost like honey. Or was that considered hazel?

Stop staring.

“Yes, yes. I’m fine,” Samiah said with a shake of her head. “Sorry about that.”

“No apology necessary. I ran into you too.” He held a hand out. “I’m Daniel, by the way. I started in R&D today.”

Ah. She remembered hearing something about a new hire. “Welcome to the team.” She shook his hand. “I’m Samiah.”

His eyes widened for the barest second, but it was long enough for her to catch it.

She narrowed her gaze, then with irritation said, “You heard about the video.”