Page 52 of My Million Dollar Secret

I shrug. “I think so. They seemed pretty enthused,” I muse. “But you never know with these government types. Fifty layers of red tape can change opinions pretty quick. So, we'll see, I guess.”

She nods and I see the uncertainty in her face. I have to wonder what's going through her mind. Is she having the same questions and doubts that are currently shooting through my head? The confusing mix of emotions about our history and what it means for our present? Part of me hopes so, because the biggest thing I fear right now is that even though she told me she wanted it last night, and we both enjoyed it, that she might file for sexual harassment.

One thing that keeps ringing through my head is that as her employer, I should have never slept with her. Even though she said otherwise, multiple times, I can't help but think that she felt a little pressure from me. That maybe, she slept with me because she felt like she had to.

On an emotional level, I don't believe that to be true. We share a connection. A bond. There is most definitely something between us that's worth exploring. I just never should have allowed us to get to the point we arrived at last night. I should have known better. Should have acted more like an adult than a hormone-driven kid.

It's not that I don't want to be in a relationship with her. I'm completely enamored with her. I'm intrigued by her. Emily compels me in ways no other woman has and yes, I want to explore that with her. At the same time, though, I've been operating for years under the assumption that a relationship of any kind wasn’t in the cards for me. I haven't really planned on being with anybody, to be honest.

I'm not saying I'm opposed to dating Emily again – eventually. I'm just saying it's not something I've considered or planned for. It's not something I've ever really expected in my life. So I'm having a little bit of trouble wrapping my head around everything.

I'm just not very good at relationships and the last thing I want is to fuck things up and hurt her.

To complicate matters even further, the one woman I found who I actually do want to be with – is my employee? Regardless of our history, I’m still nervous about the whole situation.

The way she's been looking at me since this morning, though, puts me a little at ease. I don’t get the sense that she regrets it, or that she is upset at me for possibly forcing myself onto her. But I don’t know what exactly she does feel.

“You sure everything's okay?” she presses.

“Everything's fine,” I reassure her.

She presses her lips into a tight line and sits back in her seat, slipping her earbuds in and listens to her music, shutting me out. Which is probably for the best right now. At least until I can get my head back on straight and figure out what it is we're doing – or what we want from each other. It's entirely possible that I'm misreading her entirely and she's as confused about all of the fallout from us having sex as I am. I just don't know right now, and it's utterly confounding me.

I lean back in my seat and raise my newspaper again – which is my way of shutting everybody out. I read the same line over and over again, seeing the words, but not really seeing them. I want to kick my own ass. Yes, I've wanted to sleep with Emily for a very long time. But I shouldn't have moved on her last night.

I couldn't help it, though. She looked amazing, and the chemistry between us all night had been off the charts. She'd been flirting as heavily as I had. And because of that, I let myself get caught up in the moment and then get carried away with it. I let my cock, rather than my brain, do the thinking for me. I let my physical desire overwhelm my rational thought – and now things are beyond awkward as a result.

Shaking my head, I try to shut out all of the competing thoughts and voices in my head and focus on the paper. I need a distraction and to get myself into a better frame of mind before I try to think about how to handle this fucking mess I created.

* * * * *

“So, I take it the pitch went well,” Pete says.

I nod and lean back in my chair. “It did. Now we just have to wait to get through all the red tape, and we should be good to go,” I confirm. “We should probably start getting all of the contracts drawn up in advance.”

“I'll get somebody on it right off.”

I take a sip from the tumbler of scotch in front of me. It's only noon, but I figure it's happy hour somewhere. After touching down, I had my driver drop Emily off at home and then headed to the office on my own. I told her there was no sense in having her come into work today for just a few hours, but the truth is, I just wanted to be alone for a bit. Or at least, away from her. Hopefully the distance will help my mind start to settle down.

“Good. I want to hit the ground running as soon as they get final approval,” I tell him.

“Congratulations. That's a pretty big deal. In terms of profitability, it's going to be enormous enough on its own, but to then factor in the name recognition Frontline is going to get – it's a massive accomplishment.”

I nod. “That's exactly why I want – no, need – everybody to put our best foot forward,” I explain. “We can't have any snags or hiccups. We have to be perfect.”

“Then perfect we shall be.”

I raise my glass and take another sip. I notice that Pete is scrutinizing me from his seat on the other side of the desk. The man is insightful. He can read people like nobody's business. It's part of what makes him such a good attorney and negotiator. But the precision with which he can see through people is so uncanny that it borders on creepy. It's like he has a sixth sense. And with that laser-focused gaze turned on me, I shift in my seat, more than a bit uncomfortable.

“What happened up there?” he probes.

“What do you mean?”

He gives me a look that says he can smell the bullshit. “You just closed a deal that's going to be worth hundreds of millions of dollars. Maybe more,” he observes. “You should be walking around on Cloud Nine. Instead, you're squirreled away in your office, huddled with a glass of scotch, looking like somebody just shot your dog.”

“I don't have a dog,” I deadpan.

“Funny guy,” he shoots back. “Seriously. What's up?”

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