Page 75 of Serving the CEO

I’d been to any number of weddings. My parents had renewed their vows not too long ago.

When I compared howthosemen had looked at the women they were marrying, or how my dad looked at my mom to how Derrick had looked at me…I couldn’t do it.

Even knowing it was all for a project, even for the money for my parents, if he’d showed even just some sign that I mattered to him as more than a social experiment and someone to fuck, I would have rushed down that aisle and thrown myself at him. But all I’d seen in his eyes was that he couldn’t wait for us to be alone so he could get me out of my dress.

And it’d hurt.

Why the hell did it hurt?

“Ma’am?”

Dazed, I looked around and saw the driver staring at me.

“Is this your place?”

We were at my apartment. The one I would have given up—the life I would have given up—the friend I’d slowly been losing.

“Thanks.” I fumbled with my debit card and swiped it, attempting a smile.

He saw that I couldn’t. “Go on, kid. Take care of yourself.”

I nodded and climbed out, my legs weak, my whole body shaking until I wasn’t sure if I’d make it inside. I got to the door and realized I didn’t have my key or my phone. Pressing the buzzer, I prayed Jami would answer.

“H’lo?”

“Jami?”

She sounded puzzled when she responded, “Jess? Is that you?”

“Yeah. I don’t…” I swallowed a sob. “Can you let me in?”

The door unlocked, and I half-stumbled to the elevator. Jami was waiting for me when I emerged, and her eyes widened as she saw the state I was in. “Sweetheart…”

She wrapped an arm around my waist as she walked me back to our apartment, and I leaned against her, grateful as my shaking worsened.

“What happened? What about the wedding? Why are you here?”

“I couldn’t do it,” I whispered, shaking my head. “I just couldn’t do it.”

I couldn’t tell her why. I was humiliated enough without confessing that I’d fallen for a self-centered bastard who just wanted to use me. A man who could never love anyone except maybe his sister. A broken heart was bad enough. I didn’t need to see theI told you soin my best friend’s eyes. I felt stupid enough.

Jami looked like she wanted to say something but held back, and I was grateful. Grabbing at the neck of my dress, I said, “Get me out of this, please.”

Without a word, she went behind me and loosened the hooks, eased down the zipper. When it sagged, I shoved it down, right there in the middle of the living room, letting the insanely expensive dress crumple in a heap as I headed for my room. Boxes were stacked along the wall, and I stared at them in despair. In a fit, I tore the longline strapless bra off, fumbled with the panties, and all but shredded the thigh-high stockings as I looked at the boxes with their neat labels, desperate for comfort clothes.

“Jessica?”

The knock on the door behind me made me freeze. “I’m not dressed.”

“I figured. Here’s a pair of sweats and a t-shirt.”

“I don’t even have panties, Jami.”

“Just keep the sweats then.” She cracked open the door and pushed the clothes through, and I took them gratefully.

“Thank you.”

She was taller and had more curves than me, but I didn’t really care that I’d have to roll up the sweats. I was just thankful that she’d given them to me.

---