Free One Mad Night by Julia London

him, crossed the room, and threw open floor-to-ceiling cabinet doors. At least Ian had assumed they were cabinet doors all this time. They actually opened to reveal a full bar, complete with a sink. There were glasses of various sizes, and there, on a glass shelf, was an assortment of liquor. Good liquor too.
    Chelsea walked around behind the bar. “They use this room for client appreciation days and Christmas parties. I guess we haven’t had one since you’ve been here. So what’s your pleasure, vodka, tequila, or gin?”
    â€œAll of the above. Is there any tonic?” he asked.
    Chelsea stooped down behind the cabinetry and then stood back up and held out a bottle of tonic water.
    â€œExcellent. Give me the tonic and the vodka, and I’ll make you a drink. I used to be a bartender.”
    â€œWhen?” she asked, handing him the vodka and tonic as he came behind the bar.
    â€œCollege. It paid the bills.”
    â€œSo that’s where you got the skills for the wad of cash they are paying you,” she said, and she dipped down again, reemerging with two highball glasses.
    Ian slanted her a look as he poured some vodka into two glasses. “How long are you going to be mad about that?”
    â€œFor a while,” she said with an easy smile.
    She was a funny woman. “Chelsea, look—”
    â€œAh!” she said, instantly putting up her hand. “I would strongly advise that you not feed me some meaningless platitudes,” she quickly interjected. “It’s not right or fair, and you know it.”
    He really couldn’t play devil’s advocate on this one. She was right; it wasn’t fair. If they weren’t paying her as much as him, that was bad enough. But they were going to have her pitch on an account she’d worked hard to get, even after deciding who they’d give the account to. It wasn’t right, and it made him angry and uncomfortable. Frankly, he didn’t get it—Chelsea was smart and clever and she did good work.
    â€œWhat?” she said.
    Ian realized he’d stopped mixing the drinks.
    â€œI was just thinking…I hope you don’t hate me for it, because I like you, Chelsea. And you’re right, it’s not fair.”
    She smiled with surprise. “Wow. Thank you, Ian. And for what it’s worth, I don’t hate you.” She paused as if rethinking that and then shrugged a little. “Okay, maybe I hated you a bit when you started getting the accounts that should have been mine,” she said, holding up a thumb and finger to show him just how little. “But really? I hate Jason. I hate him passionately right now.” She took a bigger sip of her drink. “If he were here right now, I’d have to kill him, and it would be very messy. A lot of stomping and kicking.” With her glass in hand, she began to walk around the conference room. “But you know what I really hate?” she said over her shoulder. “That it’s my own fault. That’s what makes me so mad, you know? I have let Jason use me and I know it. I’ve let him take my best ideas without thinking twice about what they were worth.”
    That, Ian knew, was a hard lesson to learn. Creative thinking was so hard to assign a value to, and yet it was one of the hardest jobs there was. Chelsea wasn’t the first person to have misjudged the value of her ideas. Ian could guess that there had been times she should have asked for raises and didn’t. Times she should have made Jason spell out her worth to this company and didn’t do that, either.
    He was starting to feel sick about how she would take the news when she found out that they had given him the Tesla account, and he downed his drink to push that away.
    â€œYou know my problem?” she asked rhetorically. “I am too trusting of men. It affects all my relationships.” She laughed at that. “But you know how men are,” she