I give up on sleep at five in the morning, pulling on leggings, a tank top, and a warm hoodie and pause to finger the dainty silver bracelet on the counter that my mother had given me when I graduated high school. She’d changed those last few years. Become someone I didn’t recognize, someone with no dreams of her own, who existed to survive rather than to embrace life. Because of him, I think. He is the root of every choice I’ve made. In fact, if I made a list of how I got where I am now, he’d be at the top of the list, the catalyst to everything. It’s not a pleasant thought and I shove it aside to turn my attention to tying my hair at my nape. Bypassing makeup, I brush my teeth, and attach my headphones to my cheap phone, which actually has a music app. From there, I exit my apartment, I lock the door and stuff the key in my bra, and with the full intention of running Shane out of my system, I start jogging. It’s not a great plan, but it’s better than hours of willing my eyes shut for sleep, only to see him, and darn near taste him, in between my fury at his accusations.
By the end of block number one, the night chill I’m coming to know is common year round here is almost gone? and I shove down my hood, crank up a familiar song in an effort to mute out the conversation with myself I keep having in my head, and step up my pace. But instead of escaping into the music, I find myself replaying every thought that kept me up last night, starting with one that is especially bothersome. If Shane believes I am working for his family, he’s keeping me around to prove some point or pick my brain for things I don’t know. That means I could be gone any second. I have to find another job. And it hurts and makes me angry all over again.
The more my mind tries to play with me, the harder I run, and I’m a good six blocks from home when I look up and jolt at the sight of a man in sweats running toward me. A tall, familiar-looking man. Oh God. This can’t be happening. It’s Shane and he’s almost on top of me. I turn and launch myself in the other direction, but it’s too late.
I make it all of a few steps before he shackles my wrist and rotates me to face him. “We need to talk,” he says.
“No. No, we don’t. This is my private time and I don’t work for you right now. Not here.”
“Come with me,” he orders, and the next thing I know he’s leading me into a coffee shop and through the rows of seats, and the only way I can stop him is to make a scene. And since technically he is still one of my bosses, that doesn’t seem smart. It’s an assessment that seems good until he’s leading me into a bathroom, locking the door, and crowding me into a corner.
“You can’t do this,” I hiss, and I don’t know what to do with my hands, flattening them on the wall behind me.
“It looks like I can.”
“You’re a bully and now you’re using my job against me too. This is wrong. I didn’t even know I’d gotten the job. Human Resources called me yesterday morning”
“I told you I am not firing you. Your job is between you and my father.”
“And yet I’m shoved against a wall in a bathroom. With you.” I try to duck under his arm. He steps closer, completely pinning me, and this time my hands can go nowhere but his chest. That I’ve seen naked. And I feel naked right now. “Let me out of here.”
“I was a total ass yesterday, Emily. I’m sorry.”
I blanch, momentarily stunned by the unexpected apology that none of the powerful men I’ve known in my life have offered, not sure what to think. Before I can figure it out, he presses again. “Why did you leave without saying good-bye?” This time his voice is softer, more seduction than demand.
Because he sees things I can’t let him see. But I can’t say that. “I didn’t want the awkward morning after. It was a one-night stand.”
“That wasn’t a one-night stand.”
It’s the answer I both want and can’t accept. “We said—”
He drags me to him, his hand at the back of my head, and before I can so much as breathe, his lips cover my lips. My hand flattens on his chest, my arm firm, and I try to resist, but his tongue strokes against mine, and the taste of him, hunger, and male perfection, assaults my senses. Another stroke, and my elbow softens, my fingers are curling around his shirt only to have him tear his mouth from mine to declare, “Now we’ve ensured it’s more than a one-night stand. It’s here and now and whatever we decide it can be. Come back to my apartment with me.”
“No,” I say quickly, flattening my hand on his chest. “I have to go to work, Shane. Your father won’t like me being late. And this is very complicated.”
He cups my head again and kisses me, deeply, passionately, until his forehead rests against mine. “Does that feel complicated? We’ll work it out. Together, Emily.” And for several seconds we just breathe together and I think, Maybe I can do this. Maybe he’s the light at the end of what has been a dark tunnel. He leans back and looks at me, and what I feel in that moment is something I do not understand. Something warm, and ripe, and undiscovered, that I want to know. “Let’s get some coffee and sit down and talk,” he says, brushing my messy hair from my eyes. “Okay?”
“Yes. Okay.”
A loud knock sounds on the door and I jolt. “Are you done in there?” a woman calls out.
“Just a minute!” I shout back before I whisper to Shane, “This is so embarrassing.”