Page 16 of Release Me

Or is this all in my fucking head?

“Meet you in your office?” I stutter out, my words catching in my throat, the nervousness taking over.

“Yeah, well, notinmy office. It’s just a place to meet that we both know,” Ethan now says, sounding equally as nervous as I do, and there’s something about it that feels a little natural now. “For dinner? I was thinking we could go back to my place. I was planning to have dinner delivered tonight,” he tells me, quickly adding, “Or we can eat at one of the restaurants if that’s weird.”

“If what’s weird?” I ask. Honestly, this all feels weird and I’m trying to decide if something is developing between Ethan and me or if I’m just misreading everything.

“Having dinner with me…at my house,” he says, adding the last part quickly.

“It’s not weird, Ethan. We’re coworkers. Coworkers can have dinner together,” I say, my voice taking on a tone that I reserve only for guys I’m interested in.

“You’re right. We have plenty we can talk about when it comes to work,” he adds, making it sound like that’s the reason for our dinner. And if it is, I can be totally professional.

“Let me go put the gear away and toss my stuff in my locker. I’ll meet you when I’m done.”

“Look forward to it, Zoey.”

I rush over to the locker room, stuffing my ski coat and pants in my locker and changing out of my ski boots and back into the shoes I left under the bench.

And just as I’m about to leave, I hear it. The unmistakable voices of a few of the girls who work the front desk at the hotel.

“She was having breakfast with him this morning,” one of them hisses, her voice like poison, each word spat out with disgust.

“Maybe they were talking work shit,” another responds.

“Please, you think she isn’t looking to further her career by sneaking into his office and…” the girl stops talking and the other one laughs out loud. I can only imagine what she’s miming to cause that reaction, my head filling in the missing piece.

“Yeah, you’re probably right. Who wouldn’t want to sleep with Ethan Morrison?”

“But why can’t she find someone else. She already has millions. She needs to keep her hands off the rich guy so us other girls can have a chance.”

“I also saw them skiing together tonight. She had her hands all over him,” one of the girls admits, selling me out like her life depends on it.

“If she keeps this shit up, everyone is going to hate her. Like she doesn’t have everything already,” the other girl adds, really driving her point home that my family’s money means I don’t get to find a great guy like Ethan.

I normally don’t let this kind of thing bother me, but this is also my career, a career I love, and the last thing I want to do is put it at risk. I don’t need the people who work under me thinking I got here by sleeping with the boss.

I pull my phone from my purse, texting Ethan.

Me: Sorry, I have to cancel. Something came up.

I watch as the bubbles pop up immediately, Ethan’s response coming through so quickly that I don’t even have a chance to think about how he might feel about me canceling, too worried about what these women think about me.

Ethan: Everything okay?

Me: Yes. Family thing.

I hate that I’m lying to him and that I’m letting some stupid gossipy conversation dictate how I spend my evening.

Their conversation continues, droning on, I tune it out, focused on my phone and the messages that have passed between Ethan and me.

Ethan: Is there anything you need?

Ethan: I can have dinner delivered to you or your family if you need it.

Why is he so fucking thoughtful? He’s making this really hard.

I walk toward where the two girls are still talking and they instantly fall silent. Both of them turn to look at me, eyes wide, mouths open in tiny O-shapes, guilt written all over their faces. They don’t know I heard them, and they won’t admit they were talking about me. I won’t confront them either. I’ve learned that it’s easier to let things like this go. But I’m not letting it go. I canceled plans with Ethan because I worried about what they thought.

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