Free Beyond Bliss by Delia Foster Page A

for very long.
    And then there was Tyrone, her new assistant.
    She’d never had an assistant before, and so she really didn’t know what to use him for. There had been associates, lawyers more junior than her, at the firm, and she’d been able to delegate work to them.
    But Tyrone had majored in fashion design at Parsons, and he had no legal background to speak of. He dramatically claimed to any and all who would listen, that he’d worked as a slave for several design houses, before he got hip to the scene and bounced. Now, he made twice as much money in a forty-hour workweek than he had in during an eighty hour one.
    Although she really had no idea what he filled his forty hours with. He answered her phone, for which she was immensely grateful—especially when her mother called. He went on coffee runs, but she usually accompanied him because she was bored out of her mind with so little to do. A week ago, he'd invited himself over to her apartment to "help." He'd snapped pictures of every piece of clothing and all of the accessories she owned, including bags and shoes. Since then, he'd been putting together "look books" for her, mixing and matching different images into perfectly coordinated outfits.
    She now had an album on her smartphone cataloguing fashionable, sexy-but-still-appropriate work outfits.
    Outfits that were clearly not serving their purpose since Lucas hadn’t glanced at her more than once since her first day in his offices.
    And the disappointment she felt was because her plan wasn’t working. It’s not like she cared if he really wanted her or anything.
    She sighed deeply. He’d caged her up, just like a helpless canary. Now, all she did was sit there and try to look pretty while he killed her with boredom and ignored her. Even Liz had been puzzled by his behavior.
    Just then, Tyrone stepped into her office. His huge chocolate brown eyes were wider than normal, sparkling with excitement. She kept making notes to ask him which mascara he used and then promptly forgot each time.
    She opened her mouth to pose her question, but he dramatically held his hand up. “Me first,” he demanded.
    This should be good. His long, reed-thin legs were trembling so much so that she feared he might have an accident in his tight, black and white hounds-tooth pants. He wore a bright pink, tailored oxford, and he’d cleverly knotted a bright orange scarf around the collar at his neck.
    She squinted.
    Looks like Hermes.
    She waited to hear his news, all the while wondering how it was that her assistant could sport an Hermes scarf and carry a Birkin, while Kate Spade was still a splurge for her.
    “Guess who’s going to Hawaii?”
    The imaginary buzzer in her head made a ding ding ding. Question answered.
    Tyrone had several older, wealthier boyfriends who liked to take care of him. Or so he claimed. He was fairly open about sharing the details of his private life. Truth be told, he was almost as bad as Liz.
    Distractedly, she made another mental note to introduce them.
Ask Tyrone about his mascara.
Make sure I save tracked changes to this godforsaken, stupid employee handbook.
Introduce Liz and Tyrone, preferably while I can consume copious amounts of hard liquor
Ask Tyrone to show me how to tie a scarf
Research second hand Birk—
    “Sophie, are you even listening to me!” Tyrone exclaimed. It was a question, but Tyrone never asked questions. He just made exclamations.
    Sheepishly, she smiled. “I’m sorry, T. What wonderful boy toy are you going to Hawaii with?”
    White, even teeth gleamed against his dark skin. “Girlfriend, I ain’t going to Hawaii. Although, I’m sure if you ask, you can take me with you,” he said with a hopeful look on his face.
    A knot started to form in the pit of her stomach. The pit of her stomach that currently felt like the fiery pit of hell.
    Tyrone frowned at her. “I don’t remember seeing any tropical resort wear in your wardrobe.”
    She looked at him dumbly, but then his