“Far too long,” Weston agreed.
After basically eye-fucking in broad daylight, they finally let go of each other, and he greeted the rest of the group. At the last minute, he seemed to remember I was there and introduced me to everyone. They couldn’t have been less interested in me, which was fine. I wasn’t here for these suits anyway.
I spent the next two hours trailing behind the group, taking notes as we toured the factory. Weston stopped to talk to many of the workers, some he knew by name. The entire time, Marisol stayed at his side, finding every excuse to touch him.
I learned she was head of the West Coast supply chain for Andes. Obviously, she and Weston worked closely together. I idly wondered what else they’d done closely together. From her casual touches, I knew.
Interestingly, Weston had breached his own professional ethics to fuckMarisol. I supposed there were always exceptions to rules—especially when the exception looked like that.
When it was time to leave for the next factory, I headed toward Weston’s Tesla, stopping in my motherflipping tracks when Marisol the Beautiful opened the passenger door and slipped inside, sitting in my seat like it belonged to her.
A throat cleared behind me.
I turned around, slamming my slackened mouth closed. Dev and Jeff, the other two managers, were next to their SUV.
Dev opened the back passenger door. “You’re riding with us.”
“I am?”
I glanced back to find the Tesla speeding out of the parking lot, and my stomach dropped. Weston had left me without saying a word. He’d actually abandoned me.
That asshole.
All I wanted to do was sit down on the curb and refuse to go anywhere until he came back and dumped Marisol out of my seat. Then I’d dumphimout of his seat and leave him in the dust.
Instead, I pulled myself together and climbed into the back of the SUV with the two men who were strangers to me.
Nice. Really nice.
Several hours, another factory tour, and a tense, silent drive later, we arrived at our hotel. I was completely trashed, ready to curl up in my bed, order room service, and read smut until I passed out.
Because Weston was who he was, the hotel manager met us in the lobby and escorted us to our floor, stopping at my room first. As soon as I had the key in my hand, I ducked inside, leaving Weston with the manager in the hallway.
I was kind of done being around him.
Being ignored for almost an entire day would do that.
So, yeah. Boss Weston sucked. And seeing him with Marisol had brought me back to the days of his plethora of women. I wondered why I’d ever allowed him to touch me. This was who he was. He hadn’t changed. He’d only gotten more discreet.
After ordering room service, I took a shower and put on the silk shortie pajamas Saoirse had bought me as a roommate gift.
It wasn’t late, but I had no intention of leaving this room tonight.
I was towel drying my hair when there was a soft knock on the door. My stomach growled as if it knew my dinner was on the other side.
But it wasn’t room service knocking. Weston stood there, his hands tucked in the pockets of his jeans.
“Oh.” I was honestly taken aback to see him, especially looking so casual. “It’s you.”
His brow pinched as he took in what I was wearing. “Hey. I wanted to see if you’d like to grab dinner with me.”
I tugged on my flowy camisole, wishing my shorts were a little longer. “These are my pajamas. I’m in for the night.”
“You have to eat,” he argued.
“And I will. I’m waiting for room service.”
“Oh.” He glanced down the hall as if searching for something to say. “I thought we could go over your thoughts on how today went and discuss the plan for tomorrow.”