Page 32 of Hard Limits

“I was coming to pay the bar tab. Something I sorely regret offering to do if this was the result.”

“I’ll replace your shoes.” I caught sight of his bruised knuckles and gasped. “Your hands! You should go to the hospital. Have them X-rayed and get anti-inflammatories for the swelling.”

“I don’t give a shit about the shoes, and my hands will be fine. You need to be more careful. Next time you go out, you’ll book a car and have the driver wait outside the venue to take you home.”

“But I can’t afford—”

“On the company account, Meera.”

“You mean I’m not fired?”

“I can replace shoes. I can’t replace an assistant.”

“Uh, hello? Assistant number twenty-seven right here.” I clapped a hand over my mouth. “Sorry, that just popped out.”

“Go home and get some sleep.” He took a sip of coffee, then sighed. “And if my wife asks about this little episode, you need to tell her nothing happened between us.”

“Nothing did happen.”

“Then it shouldn’t be a problem for you.”

“No. No, of course not. I’ll just go home and change, and then I’ll come right back.”

“Take the day off.”

“But—”

“Take the day off, Meera.” He pointed behind me. “The door’s over there.”

“And he just kicked you out and told you to take the day off? Wow. That’s so…so…”

“Weird?”

“I was going to say ‘sweet.’”

Meera always saw the silver lining in every cloud. She was the optimist to my pessimist, the sunshine to my drizzle.

“Trust me, Braxton Vale is anything but sweet.”

“And yet he beat up another man to save you. Then took you to his luxury apartment instead of leaving you on the sidewalk.”

“He was probably worried nobody would make his 140-degree coffee otherwise.”

“No, he totally likes you.”

I’d thrown up on his freaking shoes.

“Oh, please. He won’t even let me call him by his first name.”

“I bet he has some weird Fifty Shades of Grey thing going on. Has he mentioned his palm twitching?”

“What? No!”

“But he does have a sex dungeon, so there’s that.”

“It’s not his sex dungeon. It’s for the clients. I can’t believe we’re even having this conversation.” And it was time to change the subject. “How are things going with Alfie?”

Her silence told me what her words didn’t. That the situation hadn’t improved, but she was trying to put a brave face on things.

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