Page 8 of Secret Marriage To My Bosshole

My stomach churns as I dig the heels of my hands against my eyelids.

The pressure does nothing to take away the pain in my head. I should have known that getting drunk last night with my boss was a mistake.

Kissing him was an even bigger mistake. It’s the kind of mistake that could end my career.

But the truth is that the kiss left me spiraling. I kept drinking to bury the feelings. Kissing the man I thought I’d despised for years…felt good.

Too good to be true.

My heart was pounding, and my center was throbbing so hard, so thrilling. Kissing Griffin felt right last night.

But why…? Even if I were wasted, I wouldn’t have enjoyed kissing him so much if I weren’t attracted to him…

Putting my feelings aside, I remind myself that he’s my boss and my brother’s best friend. I knew in the back of my mind that taking things further would be a bad decision.

Drinking seemed like it would erase the desire that pulsed through me when we kissed.

The shots were supposed to replace the feeling of Griffin’s lips on mine, his hands roaming my back.

I must have had a major lapse in judgment. That’s the only reason I would have kissed Griffin.

I open my eyes slowly only to realize the room isn’t mine. I quickly close my eyes.

If I’m lucky, when I open them again, I’ll be back in my own room. My laptop will be on the nightstand next to my bottle of perfume.

An empty champagne bottle and two glasses will be waiting to be climbed up.

I won’t be relaxing in a bed that smells like a man’s cologne.

With fingers crossed, I open my eyes again.

None of my belongings are placed neatly on the dresser. The perfume bottle isn’t on the nightstand.

Whose room am I in?

Would clicking my heels together three times get me back to my own room?

My chest constricts as I get out of bed and stand up. The room feels like the floor is about to fall from beneath me.

I don’t know where I am, and trying to stand straight is hell.

Pain shoots through my temples as I glance at the windows.

The thick curtains are still wide open—another sign I had no clue what I was doing when I came to this room last night.

I would have never fallen asleep with the curtains open.

I wipe my sweaty palms on my dress. Blood rushes in my ears as I look for anything personal.

Did I go back to the hotel with someone from the bar?

Did I make exceptionally stupid decisions last night?

With a stumbling step forward, I reach for the closet door. My heart hammers as I pull open the door.

A sigh of relief follows when I see a familiar sight of the suits I picked up from the dry cleaners the day before we left for the retreat.

But the relief quickly turns into a panic when it clicks that I’m in Griffin’s room.

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