The Vessel - Jenika Snow Page 0,7

had me slowly opening my eyes. And it was the sun filling the room that had me cursing loud enough it made my head pound even more.

“Fuck,” I said more softly and pushed myself up, the leather sofa in my study creaking from the motion. I sat there for a second, my elbows braced on my knees, the empty scotch bottle lying on its side a few inches away from my feet.

I was good and hungover.

Fuck.

I closed my eyes and ran a hand over my jaw. The scruff on my cheek slightly abraded my palm, and the sound of my skin scraping over the short hairs sounded so damn loud it was like a megaphone being blasted in my head.

I dropped my hand to the cushion and wanted nothing more than to lie back down and sleep the rest of the day away. But I was fucking thirsty as hell, needed a shower to wash the stench of liquor off me, and wanted a few pain killers for the war drum beating behind my eyes.

Getting my ass off the couch was easier said than done. As soon as I stood, the room spun, and I closed my eyes, gritted my teeth, and prayed I didn’t throw up right here on the hardwood floor. This would teach me to get shitfaced. But the repercussions were well worth it, given the fact that last night I hadn’t thought about the corner my old man had put me in.

No, I just kept thinking about Elise and all the things I wanted to do to her. They’d been dirty thoughts, filthy images that were highly unprofessional. I wasn’t a saint, had jerked off to the thought of her, but it seemed when I was three sheets to the wind, my mind came up with some pretty elaborate, explicit things the two of us could do.

I groaned again as my head pounded.

I might not remember everything from last night, but I sure as fuck remembered those filthy sexual thoughts about Elise.

Christ, I was too old to be getting drunk like this, and way too fucking old to be lusting after the forbidden, and that’s what Elise was. Forbidden. She worked for me, and crossing that line would put everyone in an awkward position, not to mention be highly unprofessional. Hell, I had a fucking no-fraternization clause in the employee contract I had everyone sign before I hired them. That didn’t just go for me, but for them as well. I didn’t need couples bickering or being pissy to each other while they were on the clock with me. It was just a cleaner situation to have everyone neutral.

I ran my hand over my hair, knowing the short blond strands were probably fucked all over my head. I didn’t give a shit. I still wore my slacks, button-down shirt, and tie from yesterday. Although my tie was loosened around my neck and slightly askew from me sleeping. My clothes were wrinkled as fuck, and the amount of alcohol I consumed last night meant it was probably coming out my pores.

I headed out of my study and into the kitchen. The first step was trying to get rid of this pounding headache. The house was fairly quiet, since it was early morning and Saturday, but I could hear some light commotion coming from another room. I insisted my employees take two days off a week, but that was my only stipulation. I let Merla handle the schedule, let her schedule everyone and give them overtime if need be. I wasn’t a bastard like my father, where I tried to cut corners at every turn to save a dime. If my staff needed extra money, I offered unlimited overtime. It wasn’t like this massive house wasn’t always in need of tending.

And because Merla was in charge of scheduling, that meant sometimes there were people here on the weekends to keep up with things. That also meant every once in a while, I had the house completely empty. Sometimes, it was welcome; other times, that heavy oppression and loneliness sucked the fucking life right out of me.

I headed into the kitchen, grabbed the biggest glass I could find, and filled it with water. I drank it down and repeated the process three more times. Even after that, I still felt fucking parched, like I’d been eating sand all night, my throat tight and raw, burning.

After taking some pain relievers and washing those down with another glass of water, I