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I sat on the floor against the door, one knee pulled in while I rested my elbow on it, softly and repeatedly hitting my head on the door while waiting for her to arrive. I know where she lived but I couldn't actually come in here until now. I really couldn't, I wasn't allowed to, even while she worked for me. James said it's a strict no because if anyone saw me, it could reveal her address and cause the rumors we caused by having sex.

I came in as carefully as I could, trying not to get noticed. I had on a black hoodie with black joggers and on top of that a hat under the hood. The doorman looked at me suspiciously and looked down when I walked in. Unfortunately, he recognized me, and then I had to give him two hundred dollars and that shut him up and told me Demi's apartment number.

I've been waiting here for... fifteen minutes, I think and about five minutes ago, the power cut out. A few people walked down the hall. Some people didn't notice me, some people looked at me funny.

One girl stopped. "Who are you? This is Demi's apartment," she said defensively. "I'm her neighbor."

"I'm her boyfriend," I said easily.

"She... has a boyfriend?"

"She's a little mad at me," I chuckled awkwardly.

She looked at me quizzically then laughed softly, "You better do a lot of begging."

Yes. I better be begging. But I hope I don't have to.

She then went into her own apartment. I let out a breath, rolling my eyes. Then the power went out and now here I am.

I heard the staircase door open before it slammed shut and I heard a soft groan. I think that's her. She started humming softly while I heard footsteps slowly padding on the carpeted floor. I waited for them to walk past. I don't know if it's actually Demi, sorry but I can't read her footsteps. So, I tried recognizing the song.

It was Love in the Dark by Adele. I've heard it hundreds of times through her headphones while we drove to games.

She got closer, the flashlight got brighter before she gasped loudly and took multiple steps back, shining the flashlight on me. "What the hell?!" she yelled, sighing in relief, leaning against the wall with a hand on her chest. "Who the..." She caught her breath, moving closer and bending down to look at me.

"Demi?" I stood up.

"Who—" She stopped talking. "What the hell are you doing here?" The power flickered back on and she shoved her phone into the pocket of her hoodie. I took in her appearance. She never looks like this. She's usually more put together with her outfits but she doesn't look bad. She looks younger, like she's back in college. She was wearing an oversized, old navy Nike hoodie with a pair of loose, baggy jeans. She had a grocery bag in her hand and a completely flat pack of Capri Sun in her mouth that she bit down on using the straw. Her hair was in a high ponytail but stray hairs were framing her face as if she walked in the wind.

I glanced at her sneakers. I'm guessing she just walked from wherever she was.

"What are you doing here?" she repeated.

"I want to talk to you," I said, more demanding than anything.

"No," she said immediately and then paused. "How do you know my apartment number?"

"I bribed the doorman."

She stared at me in disbelief, before scoffing softly and shaking her head.

"I want to talk to you, Demi."

"No," she repeated. "I have work to do."

"You can't give me a few minutes?"

I could see the guilt inching up her neck but she suppressed it. "No," she said again, "I told you, I have work to do."

"What?"

"A damn apartment to find," she mumbled. "Vince, you need to leave. Before someone sees and recognizes you."

"I'm not leaving until I talk to you."

"Talk about what? Why are you really here?"

"To... check up on you," I lied.

"Really?" she chuckled dryly, "after six months?" She nodded with a shrug. "I'm good. Great. Almost homeless, practically jobless, but oh, hey, at least people know me now. I'm recognized around town now. As the girl you slept with, as your temptress assistant, as your whore," she spat the last word at me before sighing again and fidgeting with the small gold hoops in her ears. "You need to go."

I opened my mouth to say something but we both turned to the staircase when we heard it open.

She spun to look at me, eyes wide. "Leave," she hissed.

"I'm not going," I said sternly.

She groaned, looking at the stairs and then moving past me, unlocking her apartment.

I watched her, surprised. "You're really going to leave me in the hallway?"

She hung up the grocery bag on the coat hanger and leaned on one foot, holding the door while tilting her head to one side. "No," she snapped before stepping aside, opening the door.

I walked in just as someone walked into the hallway and she closed the door, moving to the kitchen with her groceries.

She doesn't lock her door?

I frowned, locking it behind me and following her. Her apartment wasn't grand and big but it wasn't tiny. It's a studio apartment, one-bedroom only, but she's kept the furniture and interiors to a minimum and it looks spacious.

"What are you doing here?" she asked again while unloading her groceries, putting the milk in the fridge, and then taking out two instant noodle packs from the grocery bag before tossing the bag in the bin.

"I want you to come back."

She stopped, her back still to me. She froze in all aspects of the word. "What?" She turned around.

"I want you to come back. Work for me again." I went and sat on the barstool, hearing it creak under me.

She glanced at me. "You owe me if that breaks."

I shot her a pointed look.

"Vince, I'm not coming back to work for you. Haven't you seen what's been happening since New York? It's a disaster. There's no way," she shook her head.

"Demi," I said.

She stared at me, leaning against the counter.

"Nothing is going to go wrong if we try. You have to come back."

"Are you drunk?"

"No," I scoffed.

"Are you high on drugs?"

"Demi."

"You are crazy, Vince if you think the solution to this mess is for me to come work for you again."

"Demi, you have to come back," I said, clenching my fists under the table. "Everything is falling apart at work. I don't even have an assistant anymore, I've had five in the last five months and nobody can stay."

"Three," she corrected, "you can't count Vanessa and James."

I rolled my eyes. "Fine. I won't. But I fired every single one of them, James agreed every time. Nobody does and nobody can do this job like you do." I hesitated, my jaw clenching as she watched me. "Please."

Her eyebrows twitched and went up just a millimeter in surprise.

Not once in my life have I uttered the word 'please,' not since I was probably eight years old. Because I've never had to ask for anything. That doesn't mean it was all handed to me. It's because I worked my ass off and got what I wanted and deserved because when we deserve something, we don't have to plead for it.

She bit the inside of her cheek before biting her bottom lip, watching me in amusement. "Did you just say please?"

"Tiffany," I scolded.

"I'm not your assistant anymore. You don't tell me what to do, Vince. You want me to do something for you, that's different." She thought for a minute before shaking her head. "No. I'm not coming back for you. I can't work for you again. I don't care what you say, nothing will change my mind. It can't be that hard to find a job that pays well enough, I'll find one. Eventually."

"And until then? You'll live in a shitty apartment where hot water probably doesn't run and you'll find mold if you look close enough with rent that's worth more than the entire building?"

She looked at me quizzically but didn't say anything. "Vince," she said again, "I'm not doing it. No."

"Demi, I am begging you."

Her eyes went wide for a second before she laughed it off. "A-are you crazy? Don't be ridiculous. You know it takes a while to find an assistant. You'll find one. If it can't be a girl, hire a guy."

"No," I said quickly.

"Why not?"

"I don't want that."

"What do you want?"

"You."

She held my gaze before swallowing and looking away.

"To be my assistant, of course," I cleared my throat, realizing how that sounded.

"Vince, stop. I don't want to do this job. I told you, this mess isn't something that can be fixed by me working for you again. And I think I deserve better. Your agency doesn't pay me as much as it should, you've given me work hours that are just a bit too long, I never get to take a day off, it's..." she sighed. "It's not fair. I worked with you for two years, I gave up two years of my life working with you. It's not fair, Vince. I got nothing at the end. Look at where it left me."

"This wouldn't have happened if we didn't..."

Her eyes narrowed just a sliver. "You regret it, I regret it. So then why are you here asking me to work for you again?"

"That's never going to happen again, I can assure you."

"Your assurance doesn't mean much when people think of me as your whore."

"And me?"

She sighed and turned around, turning on the stove, pouring hot water to boil, making the noodles.

"What about my reputation?" I asked, getting a little angry. Because I understand that she lost a lot to me but what about my whole career? It's falling apart right before my eyes. "Demi, you have no idea how much trouble I'm in."

"That's not my problem, Vince." After a long pause, she said, "If that's it, please leave. I don't have anything else to say to you. Or anything to hear from you."

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