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And the worst part? The very worst?
I wish—or at least my body wishes—we’d reached the final destination.
What am I doing?
I almost had sex with a guy who left me high and—well, definitely not dry—without giving me the simplest reason.
Not to mention the fun fact that he’s still my boss.
A caveman in a suit who never learned to speak emotions.
And after this shitshow tonight, I’ll still have to see him again come Monday morning.
What’s our score again? It must be something like:
Unpredictable Sexy Boss McGrump: 10.
Girl who gets her heart kicked around: 0.
I’m so stupid. That stunt in Phoenix tried to warn me.
Paige isn’t home. She left me the place for tonight, so I can’t even vent. Or maybe I can. I grab my phone and send her a text.
Hey, I wish you were home. You have no idea what a ginormous buttwipe my boss is.
She pings me a minute later with a laughing emoji. Yes, I do! You’ve told me! But I thought I was out of the house so you could get laid? Why are we talking about your asshat boss? Get laid!
I don’t have the guts to tell her I came very close to getting laid with a normal, if boring guy, and then my “asshat” boss and almost-booty buddy turned into one in the same.
You don’t have to stay out if you don’t want to. No laying tonight, I text back.
A few seconds later she sends back an angry face and Why? What? Brina Bristol—get laid!!!
Thirty minutes later, I flop down on the couch in front of Netflix, stuffing an overcooked frozen pizza into my mouth.
I wish I had a picture of Magnus Heron and a dartboard.
I should start applying for other jobs soon. But where do you find other jobs with my pay? I don’t want to see the screwball again, but I also don’t want to give up six figs a year.
Three episodes of Schitt’s Creek later, a lot of angry pizza chomping, and so many bad thoughts, my phone rings. I grab it without looking, thinking it’s Paige.
But Magnus Heron flashes across the screen.
God, I’m so tempted to ignore it.
But he did get an odd call before he left, didn’t he? Also, I’ve never heard him use the word promise until right before he bolted out the door.
What if he has a real excuse?
I want to smack myself in the cheek, wondering why I’m lending him the benefit of the doubt.
I take the call anyway. “What?”
“I—I’ve sent Armstrong to pick you up—” His voice is gravelly, strained, this low scraping like he’s been beaten and dragged raw.
I’ve never heard him like this.
I sit up straight. “Are you okay?”
He sighs into the phone. “I’m fine. But I need you, Brina. Right now. It can’t wait.”
“For what?” I’d assume he just wants to finish the hookup, if only his voice didn’t sound so...odd.
“Just be ready as soon as Armstrong gets there, and I’ll see you soon.”
“Maybe you won’t,” I say.
“What?”
“I never said I’d be there. After what you did—”
“Brina, goddammit, this is serious,” Magnus growls. “We need to talk.”
My heart flutters. I haven’t reverted back to Sabrina or Miss Bristol again.
Then my brain tells my heart to shut up because this guy has left me hanging twice. But I also can’t parse this sudden strange emergency that’s gotten him so keyed up.
“Fine, let me get my coat. I’ll wait outside, so I can hop out and head over as soon as he pulls—”
“Don’t. It’s snowing, and it’s dark. I can’t handle more catastrophes tonight. Stay inside in the warmth of your building with your door locked until he calls.”
What the?
This sounds serious.
“Mag, what happened?” I ask, blanking on even a guess.
“Just get here when you can.” He hangs up.
For a second, I sit there staring at the screen, this dark pit deepening in my stomach.
One thing’s for sure: I’m not going out in the snow in this stupid dress again, and if he wants to summon me at any hour he pleases, he can deal with bad fashion choices. So I throw on sweats and put my hair up in a messy bun.
I look nothing like the girl he left on the couch, and I don’t give a damn.
Maybe he’ll find me repulsive and finally stay the hell away from me. I’m probably not strong enough to do the same with him.
Appearances aside, he left me with one fierce memory I can’t push away.
The fire coursing through my body when his mouth was on my nipple and his hand was under my dress lingers like a burn.
With every single breath I take, I can still taste Magnus Heron’s lips.* * *I open the back door of the town car and climb in.
“Any news, Armstrong? Is this some kind of prank?”
“I don’t think so. He was pretty frantic when he called,” Armstrong says slowly, his eyes gazing back at me in the rearview mirror.
