fell into my seat and shoved the black lace to the bottom of my bag. Maybe if I shoved deep enough, they’d disappear along with the knowledge that Nicholas was the man who’d fucked me so thoroughly this weekend.
My boss.
My boss, who hated me, had buried his face between my legs and made me come harder than I ever have before.
Maybe I could dive to the bottom of my bag with the sordid panties and get lost in Narnia with them.
Dropping my head to my hands, I managed to bite back my groan. It was one thing to imagine the illicit encounter had been with Nicholas and another thing entirely to actually have been with him. One was a fantasy I didn’t have to admit to anyone playing out in my mind. The other was so wrapped up in complicated strings I couldn’t see beyond it.
The bruises on my hips from his hard grip throbbed, and I fought from banging my head against the desk to knock out any memories trying to rear their head.
He’d thought I planned the whole thing. He actually thought I planned having sex with him so he would give me a position on the upcoming project. How could one man make me burn with so much heated desire and raging anger all at the same time?
Oh, how I hated him.
I hated Nicholas Rush.
Part of me wanted to quit now. I didn’t need the job. I didn’t need the stress of facing him or walking around with a guillotine over my head, waiting for him to find a reason to fire me.
But there was no way I would give him the satisfaction.
It wasn’t that I had to face him; it was that he would have to face me and the realization that I would conquer this job on my own. I’d climb the ranks and keep delivering my ideas until he was forced to recognize I succeeded through his company all on my own.
At least until I got married.
My stomach bottomed out, and the bubbling pride simmered to a calm.
I had at least a year, I tried to reason. I’d have time before this marriage took off. We hadn’t even announced an engagement. I’d take every second to excel.
My determination came in waves, split up by doubt, and I needed to squash it. Digging in my purse, I clutched my phone, pulling it out and opening my group chat with Rae and Nova.
Me: 911. Who’s in town?
Nova: Sorry, babe. I’m in North Carolina.
A picture of her red hair blowing in the wind with the mountains behind her came through.
Raelynn: I’m in London.
Me: What? When did you go there? Why?
Raelynn: When the opportunity strikes, you take it.
Her message was quickly followed by a man’s muscular back down to a perfectly firm ass barely covered with sheets in a bed.
Nova: Your pic is way better than mine.
Me: FOCUS!! I need an emergency FaceTime
Raelynn: What’s up?
Nova: Are you okay??
Raelynn: Do I need to kill anyone?
Me: I’m fine… physically. I can’t dive into it right now. I just need to know you guys are waiting for me when I get off work.
Nova: Always. I was planning on a stop tonight anyway.
Raelynn: You two are my number one. I’m always here. And I’ll be up anyway. ;)
Knowing I’d be able to talk to my best friends tonight had my heart rate slowing to a fast gallop over a rushing freight train. Not great, but I’d take it.
I just wasn’t sure how the hell I was going to make it through the next few hours. I considered feigning sickness but quickly shot down that idea. That’s all I needed, for Nicholas to think I was running. He’d probably assume I was off to plot a new plan to take over his company.
“Hey, guys,” Debra, one of the marketing executives, called from the front, pulling me from my woes. “It’s that time of the month to do the grunt work. Old projects need to be taken down and filed. Also, the research for new vision boards needs to be organized and put up. I know it’s busywork, and we try to rotate, but if someone could volunteer so I don’t have to ch—”
“I’ll do it,” I almost shouted, jumping out of my seat and flinging my hand in the air. I may as well have reenacted the scene from Hunger Games; I was so dramatic. I got a lot of wide side-eyes, but the grunt work was done two floors below, and no