Page 70 of One Night Only
That was horrible. Like, possibly one of the worst experiences of my life. She cried.Sobbed. It took all I had not to move around the table to wrap my arms around her. I never want to do that again.
As I walk back to my office, I feel dirty. Like a big, old, dirty hypocrite. There’s Kayla, being escorted by Carlo back to her desk on the main floor, to collect her things and be met at the elevator by building security and taken out like she’s committed a felony. And I’m walking back to my desk to start my day, despite having Dallas’s fingers and tongue deep inside me multiple times over the last forty-eight hours. I’m going to hell.
“Hey, Emily?”
I look up as I unfasten the buttons on my coat, finding Andy standing there looking a little guilty himself.
“I’m sorry about that,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck.
“It’s okay.” I shake my head, dismissing his apology as I hang my coat in the closet.
He starts to walk back to his office, and I turn, unable to keep my mouth. “Is it really such a terrible thing, though?”
Andy spins around, his brows raised in curiosity at my question.
I shrug a shoulder, suddenly feeling very small. “I mean… maybe they do… really like each other?”
Andy exhales, his lips pressed together in the semblance of a smile as he walks back toward me. “Yeah, maybe they do.” He shrugs. “But, a conflict of interest is still a conflict of interest. And… this is my business. I can’t risk everything I’ve worked for on amaybe. If I allow my employees to date clients, what happens when it ends badly?”
I go to speak but he cuts me off.
“And I can assure you—” He nods. “It only ever ends badly.”
I swear, it’s as if his words are a direct punch to my stomach, rendering me winded.
Andy rakes his fingers through his already mussed hair and turns, walking back into his office and closing the door. And as his words repeat over and over again in my mind, it’s as if I’m on auto-pilot as I make my way to my desk and take a seat, dread roiling in my stomach.
It only ever ends badly.
CHAPTER 28
DALLAS
I’m all fucking smiles—for obvious reasons—as I step off the elevator and through the doors of HMC Management. The receptionist glances up at me, smiling coyly and fluttering her lashes like she does every time I show my face. I throw her a salute and my panty-melting grin, and she buzzes me through the secure door with a sweet little giggle. Cute.
As I follow the corridor that’s lined with glass offices, I can’t stop myself from rushing. I mean, come on. Can you blame me? It’s been almost four hours since I’ve seen my girl. Leaving her this morning as she waved me off from the door of her apartment, wrapped in a fluffy white robe, her cheeks flushed from the kiss I’d just stolen from her, adorable smile ghosting her lips, I didn’t realize until that very moment just how much I want that. I know this is absurd, but I want to wake up with her every morning. And when I leave her there in the doorway, whether I’m going to practice or to the airfield to catch a flight for a road trip, I want to know that when I get back, she’ll be right there waiting for me. I have lost my damn mind. But fuck it, I say. Life is too damn short not to jump in head first.
As I turn the corner and let myself into Emily’s office, my grin spreads wide at the sight of the pretty blonde who hasclaimed my heart, soul, and whatever the hell else she wants, studying her laptop, brow furrowed with determination as she taps the keyboard.
My gaze flits quickly to Andy’s door. It’s open. But he’s not in there. I’m sure he’s not far away, but I like to live dangerously.
“Hey, baby,” I say, crossing the space and stopping by Emily’s desk.
She gasps, clutching her chest and gawking up at me. “You scared the shit out of me.”
I chuckle, doing a quick scan of the room before leaning down and pressing a kiss to the corner of her gaping mouth. But as if I’ve slapped her, Emily rolls away on her chair so fast, I’m momentarily worried she’s about to roll right through the plate glass window.
Standing, she puts even more space between us, scurrying over to open the cupboard and start busying herself, and my brows knit together because… what the fuck?
“You okay?”
Emily’s gaze darts about, and she nervously tucks her hair behind her ear, looking down to the floor, to the window, to the ceiling, literally anywhere but at me.
Before I can storm across the room, cup her face, and demand she look at me and tell me what the hell is going on, Andy’s voice sounds over my shoulder, and I spin around as Emily goes back to the contents of the cupboard.
“You’re early,” Andy says, brow quirked as he looks me up and down. “You feeling okay?”
“Yes,” I mutter, rolling my eyes.
