Page 23 of The Fix

I pace around the plush rug, my hand to my damp forehead. “Yes. No—” Impatient and frustrated, I walk straight to the bathroom to peel off my pantyhose, tossing them into the trash.

“So,” Leo drawls into the phone, his deep voice betraying his confusion. “Was it dirty or no?”

“That’s not the point.” Setting the phone on the vanity, I engage the speaker. “It is, but it’s also not livable.”

“And?”

“And? And it means that there’s only one freaking bed here! Hello? Are you still asleep?”

“Have Toby sleep on the couch. It’s where he’ll most likely end up any-fuckin’-way.”

I flail my hands, even though the infuriating man can’t see me. “How is he supposed to have any privacy? And where is he supposed to shower?” I huff and pace in a circle.

“You mean where can you get away from him.” It’s not a question, but a statement of concern I vocalized before I was forced in this hell to begin with.

“Yes,” I hiss, my hands flying to my hair, my palms flat against the crown of my head. “He’ll just be out there. Doing whatever guys do when they’re alone.”

I shudder at the possibilities.

“Anna,” Leo soothes over the phone, his sleepy voice grating on my last nerve. “There’s a bathroom that works upstairs. And the couch is good. I’ve slept on it myself before the bedroom was done.”

“What about my morning routine, Leo? He’ll be right there!” I scoff and swipe at my sweating brow. “He’s already proven that he doesn’t care about sporting his birthday suit around the whole dang place.”

My breath races as I think of all the things I won't be able to do to keep myself sane with Toby Jeffers up my butt. No privacy. No peace.

Leo’s chuckle does nothing to calm my nerves. “It’s not for that long if the articles work. Okay? Just breathe.”

“I can’t do that.”

“C’mon, work with me here. Breathe with me.”

“I hate you,” I snap, but force a lungful of oxygen anyway. “You’re the worst boss on the planet.”

“I doubt that.” He snickers, then sobers. “I’ll double check the shipments in the morning when I’m supposed to be awake.” The exhaustion is evident in his words, his jab driving that point further. “I’ve got the shit to finish up the lounge coming; it’s just not as easy shipping shit up a mountain in the snow.”

I exhale a long breath.

“Shouldn’t be but a few days if the snow holds off, okay? Just hang in there.”

“Fine,” I growl out, teeth clenched as I lean on the vanity over the phone.

“And maybe get some damn sleep, woman. You’re atrocious when you’re tired.”

“This is all your fault, Leo.” Growling when he laughs, I end the call before he can toss out any more unhelpful advice.

With my head hanging between my shoulders, I take a moment to try and tame my racing heart rate. It takes several minutes and a glance in the mirror to change my focus from the metaphorical cage wrapped around my head to the dirty feeling coating my skin.

I’m covered in dust I can’t see and sweat that’s dried and gritty.

Dark circles shine under my eyes through the concealer I applied almost twenty-four hours ago.

The tub calls to me, but the idea of sitting in the filth only adds to the dirty feeling already crawling across my skin.

Turning, I face the shower stall behind the bathroom door, its glass shining with my reflection. Perfect.

With a mad dash out into the bedroom for my toiletry bag, I return and crank the water in the shower to its hottest setting. While waiting for enough steam to fill the room, I strip out of my formal wear and lay the articles out in the tub.

Mentally, I add hand washing to the already long to-do list and step in.

---