Page 128 of Savage Suit
“Of course.” She offered me a brittle smile. “Sincerest apologies, Ryan.”
I nodded, feeling awkward and exposed. “Traffic was out of control today,” I said to fill in the silence, then wished I hadn’t when my voice cracked. Clearing my throat, I walked toward her. “Let’s go to my office and we can discuss whatever you wanted to tell me.”
She glanced between Noah and me one last time. “Of course,” she said through tight lips.
We walked to my office in complete silence, affording me a moment to compose myself and clear my head of how many rules were broken in Noah’s office. It didn’t matter if he’d initiated the encounter. The result would be the same as before.
Instead of learning from my mistake, I’d kissed my fucking boss again.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“You look like shit,” Graham said as I slid into the booth at Luca’s, a mom-and-pop, family-owned Italian restaurant he’d chosen for this month’s meeting.
“Thanks, man. I feel like shit,” I grumbled. Picking up my menu, I flipped through the meal options.
Yesterday, the moment I got off the clock, I went home and popped open a bottle of whisky. Despite my best efforts to keep the relationship between Ryan and me professional, I’d crossed a boundary with her again. But she’d been upset and jealous over finding Soraya in my office, and just too fucking lickable for words.
Throwing down my menu in disgust, I blew out a frustrated breath.
“Care to tell me what’s going on?” Graham sipped his drink before he jutted his chin at the glass of brown carbonated liquid in front of me. “I ordered you a Dr. Pepper. I know you’re a fan of that poison.”
“Dr. Pepper is great; you just have poor taste,” I quipped, then took a big gulp.
“Dr. Pepper used to be medicine, and it makes sense. It still tastes like fucking medicine,” Graham said flatly.
“I’d love to know what medications you’re prescribed that taste like soda, Graham.”
He grinned at me. “Touché. Now, tell me what’s wrong.”
“A hangover,” I muttered.
A young, short waitress bounced over, her auburn hair piled on top of her head. “Are you two gentlemen ready to order now?”
Graham handed her his menu. “I’ll have the Chicken Cacciatore with garlic bread, Anna.”
“You got it, Mr. Morgan.” She turned her attention to me. “And for you, sir?”
“I’ll have theMelanzane di Parmigiana, and garlic bread as well, thank you,” I said, mimicking my friend and passing my menu to Anna.
“Alrighty,” she gushed. “Coming right up!” She bounded away, leaving us alone again.
He and the waitress were quite comfortable with one another.
“You come here often?”
He nodded. “I bring Soraya and Lorenzo here sometimes.”
“How are your son and daughter?” I asked. In the past, my interest was more perfunctory. Mere weeks ago, I’d been a pompous, unfeeling, arrogant asshole. But that was before Ryan.
“Again, Noah, what the hell is wrong with you?” Graham demanded, ignoring my question. “You look like you’ve lost your best friend.”
I raised my forearms on the table and rested my head in my hands, shame filling me. After trying to force Tina out because she was Nicholas’s wife and my sister-in-law, yesterday I’d violated my decree for the second time. “I fucked up,” I admitted bleakly.
“Give me more details so I can better concur or disagree.”
I hadn’t been stingy with my praise of Ryan to either Soraya or Graham, especially following the shitstorm after Ryan’s interview. They’d offered more than their fair share of admiration for her, and neither Morgan suffered fools easily. I thought Soraya and Ryan could be great friends.
“It’s a long story.”
