In a daze, I shut my briefcase and snap it closed. Then I grab up the papers scattered all over the table, pressing them to my chest since I don’t want to take the time to stop and open my briefcase again. Pages crumple in my hands as I heave myself to my feet.

Somehow, I make it out of the room, the door swinging closed behind me with an unsatisfying whisper of a click.

I don’t say anything. Not goodbye. Not so long. Not you’re welcome for the hard work, assholes.

Standing in the all-white hallway, I focus on my breathing. I crouch on the ground and open my briefcase, shoving the papers inside with numb hands before standing again.

I need to get out of here before I have a full-blown panic attack.

My gaze lifts, down the hall, toward the bullpen, where the other employees are working.

I can’t face them. What if everyone knows? What if they’ve all talked about this? What if they all voted and unanimously decided to kick the antisocial loser off the island?

Hannah will be happy.

I have to pack up my desk, but I need a minute to pull myself together.

Moving fast, I walk past the main sitting area with my head down, not making eye contact, and let out a sigh of relief when I reach the corridor to the bathroom.

But before I make it to a place where I can lose my shit in peace, Mark is there.

“Hey, Jane. Come with me.” He grabs my hand, tugging me to the door opposite the bathroom. The storage room. Somewhere we’ve fooled around before.

Once inside the tiny space crammed with supplies and glowing with the faint red light from an old printer, he shuts the door. Then his mouth presses hard against mine. He fumbles with the hem of my blouse, yanking it out of my pants to run insistent fingers over my stomach.

I’m not in the mood, a maelstrom of shock and nerves and everything else running through the stomach he’s currently caressing, but I don’t make any move to stop him. Besides, maybe this will help me relax, to think about something other than the fact that the job I’ve been working toward for the last four years ended in the space of a heartbeat.

He tugs my pants down and lifts me against the wall. I try to lose myself in the act. He’s a good kisser. He’s attractive. Blond hair, blue eyes, straight teeth. I’m lucky he shows any interest in me at all.

Plain Jane. Shy Jane. Jane who just got fired.

I shove the thoughts away, trying to focus on the physical sensations instead of the emotions roiling through me, but it doesn’t quite last long enough for me to enjoy anything.

He groans and shudders and exhales a hot breath against my neck.