Page 60 of Accidental Vegas Vows

I set my phone down on my desk in frustration, burying my face in my hands. I just wanted to complain, just wanted to vent and feel heard, and although I appreciated his willingness to solve my problems, he had enough on his plate right now.

My phone buzzed.

Dame: Is it your coworkers again?

I groaned quietly into my palms.

Dame: Tell me what’s going on or I’ll come down there myself.

Me: It’s not my coworkers.

A lie, but hopefully it was enough to get him out of it and keep him from intervening.

Dame: Come up to my office then and we can just chat about whatever it is.

Fuck. I couldn’t do that, not when this many eyes were on me, not when our… situation was likely the cause of it. He had to know that. He had to be testing me.

Me: I can’t do that.

Dame: Because it’s your coworkers.

Me: You’re the worst.

Dame: You didn’t think that last night.

My cheeks heated as I read back the message again, and again, and again. I definitely, absolutely, did not think that last night. I thought everything but that.

Dame: Tell me what’s going on.

Me: Fine.

Emma, one of the chosen interns two desks down from me, snickered under her breath as she averted her gaze from me. I wanted to throw my fucking wireless mouse at her face.

Me: They keep looking at me. And people keep fucking whispering and snickering and just staring at me. It’s worse than it was last week.

Me: I think they know something’s going on. Idk if something slipped up in HR or if Sophie didn’t shut her mouth, or maybe they’re just speculating.

Damien’s three little bubbles popped up again but disappeared a moment later.

Me: Maybe I shouldn’t have let you drive me to work.

Me: I can just take the bus or something. It’s not that big of a deal once a week.

Me: Hello?

I stared at the lack of bubbles for far too long before putting my phone down in frustration. Either he was on a call, or he was making my situation far worse.

I tried to focus again on the PowerPoint I’d been trying to assemble. It was bare bones, just loaded with information but without any graphics or images — just plain white pages that made my eyes burn to look at. I’d at least separated everything out into their individual slides, but I almost wished I was at home instead with Noah’s shows playing in the background and a beeping oven telling me it was time to take out the Goddamn chicken nuggets. At least then I could actually get some work done instead of feeling like a caged animal in the zoo, only there for Emma’s and Matt’s and Polly’s and everyone else’s entertainment.

A hand came down on the backrest of my chair, and I nearly jumped out of my seat.

Turning halfway around in my now unmovable chair, Damien’s hard-set jaw and full suit came into view, and all I wanted to do was strangle him.

“You can’t just come down here,” I hissed, my face heating, burning, scolding. I couldn’t deny that his presence was a welcome relief, but oh my God, I wanted to kill him. Everyone was staring now — not just those who had been in the loop before. And I couldn’t blame them. The fucking owner and CEO was in our small office, looming over an employee, looking far too attractive for his own good.

“I believe, Olivia, that I own this entire building and can go wherever I please,” he grinned. “How’s the project coming along?”

Being honest, telling him it was going terribly, would only raise questions with the people around me. No one in their right mind would tell the highest-up person in this company that their work was going terribly. But I didn’t want to lie to him, either.

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