Page 79 of F*ckboys

With a frustrated growl, I shove from the door and stomp toward the shower. Time to wash away the remnants of Aksel's touch and refocus on what really matters.

Doing right by my clients, and getting back at anyone who's ever hurt me.

The spray of hot water does little to ease the turmoil in my mind. I scrub at my skin as if I can wash away the memory of Aksel's hands, his lips, and the low timbre of his voice whispering wicked promises against my ear.

It's no use. I can still feel him, branding me from the inside out.

I slam my fist into the tiled wall, relishing the spike of pain. Anything to distract from the maelstrom of emotions threatening to drown me.

When I emerge from the shower, skin raw and knuckles bruised, a single text lights up my phone.

Aksel: Everything okay? You left in a hurry. I thought maybe we could get breakfast?

My throat tightens at the casual intimacy, the unspoken expectation that there will be more between us than a single night. That's a complication I don't need.

I type a quick response, hoping to nip this in the bud before it has a chance to bloom into something messy and painful. Something that will only end in heartbreak.

Me: Sorry, work emergency. Rain check?

It's not entirely a lie. My work—the business my father is so determined to see fail—must come before anything personal. Before anyone personal. I have too much riding on my success to be distracted by a man, no matter how well he makes me forget my troubles.

Aksel: No worries, duty calls. I totally get it. Let me know if you need anything x

I read into his words, searching for some hidden meaning, but find only polite concern. Damn him for being so practical, so understanding. With a sigh, I toss the phone onto my bed and continue to get ready. I don't deserve his concern and have no intention of reciprocating.

Now dressed for the day in one of my signature work outfits—never a suit but always stylish—armor against the world, I stare at my reflection. The woman gazing back at me is a stranger, with hard edges and cool indifference masking the tempest inside.

Good. Just the image I need to project. Emotions are a liability I can ill afford.

The time for distractions is over. It's time to get back to work.

I walk into the office, steeling myself against the curious glances and whispers sure to follow. Of course, nobody knows I spent the night at Aksel's, but I know, and it's making me paranoid. Rumors spread quickly in this place, and the fact I ended up half an hour late to work despite being notoriously punctual, is only going to get tongues wagging.

Let them speculate. As long as the work gets done, their opinions matter little.

Still, unease settles in my stomach at the thought of my personal life as office fodder. The echo of laughter, mocking and cruel, resonates in my memory. A reminder of the price paid for weakness. Trust, already a fragile thread in my world, feels like it's unraveling.

Never again.

One of my junior team members, Olivia, rushes over, worry etched into her features. "Fallon, I've been trying to reach you all morning. There's been a problem with the scheduling for the upcoming advanced program, and—"

I hold up a hand, cutting her off. "Handle it. That's what I pay you for, isn't it?" I snap, my voice sharp, no effort made to hide my irritation. "To deal with these issues so I can focus on the important things?"

She swallows hard, hurt flashing in her eyes before nodding. "Of course, my apologies."

Remorse pinches at my conscience as she walks away, but I shove it aside. I can't afford remorse or apologies. Not now.

Maybe not ever.

The unsettling feeling of not knowing who I can trust settles in, making me question the motives of those around me. How deep does the rot go? Have more than just a few minor scheduling conflicts arisen in our upcoming course catalog? Can I even trust these people I surround myself with each day, or are they part of some sinister plot designed to take me down?

Paranoia begins to take root, insidious tendrils that threaten to choke out the fragile bloom of trust I've somehow managed to nurture. I can't help but wonder who else might wish to see me fail.

Chapter 44

Fallon

The office meeting room glows amber, shadows dancing across Mia's freckled face. My heart pounds. I have to tell her. About one of the times. She doesn't need to know about the first time.

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