Page 5 of For Wrath and Redemption
Right. Because I still have to go back to my apartment to change since I have no clothes here. Since I’mnot permittedto leave clothes here.
“I’ll see you when you get back.” I force a smile and walk toward the bathroom door. “Travel safely. I hope it goes...well...as smoothly as possible.”
“Thank you, my love. I will call you.”
When he looks back at the mirror, I leave. I grab my purse and shoes by the door and let myself out of the apartment, grateful that Edward isn’t around to witness my walk of shame. It doesn’t matter that it happens almost every morning. It still makes me feel dirty.
My relationship with Conrad is unconventional, but these discomforts are the price I pay for falling for my boss. No one would believe that I didn’t know who he was when we met. No one would care that I’m not using him to get ahead in my career.
I attempt to shove down my screaming insecurities. I try not to focus on what I used to want or see for myself. I tell myself that if I keep my head down and work my ass off, it will all pay off. I’m living in New York City and working my dream job. I tell myself that I’m fulfilled and happy. I tell myself it will be fine.
I say it, but I can’t make myself believe it.
Then, because I deserve the downward spiral, I grab my phone, open a social media app, and go to the profile I know will make me feel worse. I spend my commute to work scrolling through photos of happy faces, faces that once used to be as familiar to me as my own, and I let myself sink deeper into darkness.
2
JONAH
I dropmy head to the cinderblock wall and close my eyes.
I need a cigarette, a shower, and my bed, but my smokes are in the fucking dressing room, and I’m locked out so Torren can fuck his girlfriend. The door beside me jostles, and I groan. They can’t fuck on a couch like normal people? They gotta do it against the door so we all know what’s happening?
When Callie starts to moan, my dick hardens in response, so I kick off the wall and storm down the hall. I need distance from this bullshit, but no matter what I do, they’re in my fucking face.
When I spot Hammond, I stop in front of him and glare until he gets off the phone. As soon as he hangs up, I throw my demand at him.
“I need my own room from now on. I can’t share any more suites with them.”
Hammond’s eyebrow arches slightly as his eyes scan over my face. He drops his attention down to my tightly balled fists, then back up to my clenched jaw. I know what he’s thinking. It’s what they all think.
Can we trust him alone?
Can we leave him unsupervised?
Jonah the ticking time bomb.
Jonah the live wire.
I cut into his thoughts with the truth.
“You want to keep me sober, Ham? Get me out of their suite. If I have to listen to them fucking anymore, I’m going to lose it.”
It’s a blunt, low blow, but it’s the truth. I’m not exactly on the wagon, and everyone knows it. My position is a precarious illusion at best. But I know when I’m teetering. I know how it feels when my strength is faltering.
It feels like this.
“I’m keeping a key to your room,” he says finally, and I jerk out a nod.
“Fine.”
“And I’m giving one to Sav.”
“She’s not my fucking mom, Ham.”
He doesn’t respond. He just continues. “Torren and Mabel will also get one, and your security will obviously have one, too.”
“So if I move out of the sex den, I’m losing my privacy?”
