Page 748 of One More Kiss

The only people who aren’t laughing are me and Nicholas.

In fact, he looks anything but amused. Matter of fact, he is more like glaring at the two men beside him who are laughing the loudest. As soon as they see his reaction, the room quiets down.

“The artist. What’s the artist’s name?” Nicholas clarifies.

Ugh, what’s wrong with my brain? Please start working again.

“Of course.” I shake my head. “It’s Pierre René.”

The room falls into silence as Nicholas scribbles something onto the paper in front of him. Without a word, he drops the pencil down onto the mahogany wooden table and looks up.

“Bill, we won’t need you until the designs are finalized. Keep gathering a crew, and we’ll call you when we’re ready to break ground. The rest of you, leave on the table what you have so far. I will go over everything today and tomorrow, then we’ll discuss how we’ll move forward. You can all go back to your offices for the rest of the day.”

The words have barely left his lips and I’m out of my seat, nearly tripping over my own feet as I gather my notebook and pen and shove it in my purse. The others are just getting up while I’m scurrying out the door. I have to get out of here. Away from him.

I’m already halfway down the hall when I realize I didn’t even say goodbye to anyone. Jesus, this whole day is a nightmare, and it’s not even lunchtime yet. I’d be better off going home and going to sleep, but I need this job, so staying is my only option.

* * *

The restof the day is spent hiding out in my office, literally. I didn’t even go into the break room, so I wouldn’t risk running into him. Which is completely senseless since he wouldn’t be in the break room in the first place or on this floor. Part of me knows I’m being irrational, but the other part of me says I need to steer clear of him at any cost.

I slept with my boss. Instead of a pay raise, he gave me an orgasm. Granted, I didn’t know he was my boss, but that’s beside the point. I know who he is now, and I can’t undo what we’ve already done.

Since that night in the elevator, I’ve thought of him many times. His deep voice, seductive, and dipped with arrogance. I knew he was an asshole before I screwed him, but I never expected to see him again.

The jokes on me.

Visually, he’s not bad to look at; tall, dark and handsome. He looks like a GQ model and Gerard Butler had a baby together. His looks and the fact that he knows how to use his cock seem to be the only good attributes about him, at least the ones that I know of. I still can’t believe I slept with my boss.

Running a hand through my hair, I look at the clock on the wall. I can’t remember the last time I left the office at five o’clock. Since the day I started this job, I’ve stayed late. I knew if I wanted to get anywhere, I’d have to put the time in. Today won’t be one of those days, though. Today I’m getting out of here as soon as I can.

I escape the office building, opting to take the stairs instead of the elevator for fear that I might run into him. Yes, eventually we will have to talk and work together, but in order for that to happen, I need to mentally prepare myself.

On my way home, I send Ross a message. He’s the only person I can trust and confide in. Even with this. He won’t judge, and maybe he has a way out of this mess.

Me: Sleepover girl’s night?

Ross: I’ll be there. Everything okay?

He knows me so well. I’d only ask for a sleepover during the week if it was terrible. Times like these you need your bestie to tell you everything is okay, and you didn’t ruin the only job that you’ve ever loved.

Me: Yeah, just need some Ross time.

As soon as I arrive at my apartment, I slip out of my high heels, pencil skirt, and blouse combo as quickly as I can and into my flannel pajamas. I tug my bra off and toss it onto the back of the couch. I don’t care what anyone says, there is nothing as enjoyable as removing your bra at the end of the day.

While I wait for Ross to get here, I pop a bottle of wine open, because God knows I need a drink right now. As if he could smell the alcohol being poured, the doorbell rings as the wine reaches the top of the glass.

Immediately I smile, and the worry of my day melts away slowly.

I place the bottle of red wine on the table and walk to the front door to open it.

“Did someone order a best friend sleepover?” Ross greets while shoving past me and into the apartment. He is dressed in a stylish button-up shirt and fitted jeans, which is his casual lounging wear. “Tell me all the deets. What’s going on? You sounded upset when you texted.”

“How do I sound like anything when I text?”

Ross rolls his eyes and swats his hand at me. “I know these things, beau. Now tell me everything.”

He flops down onto the couch and grabs the glass of wine I poured for him. Ross is gorgeous, short blonde hair, piercing green eyes, and a dimpled smile that makes your heartbeat a little faster in your chest. I can’t tell you how many times ladies have frowned when they discovered he was gay and not at all interested in them.

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