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He whistles at this but then homes in on something else I accidentally let slip.
“What do you mean ‘your old boss’? You really think he’s not going to hold your job for you?”
I shrug. “ I did just kind of leave without any notice.”
“What would you do if you got fired?”
“I have no idea. If it got bad enough, I’d have to take whatever job I could get. Maybe go back to work at the bookstore I did some part-time stuff for back in college.”
“Or you could work for me.”
My head literally whips around at this. His eyes are steady as my heart leaps about like a kid who just ate her whole Halloween stash in a single night.
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about you coming back and giving the proposal with me. Then heading up the project once it’s approved.”
“And if it’s not?”
He puts his hands over his heart. “Ouch. You really don’t sugarcoat things, do you? But you’re absolutely right. It might not go through. In which case, I would keep you on in the finance department or as my personal assistant. Whatever works best.”
I’m staring at him. Unblinking. Waiting for him to fold, for his little charade to come tumbling down. As amazing as the past few days have been, I was perfectly ready to face the truth that I was just another notch on his bed. That he would soon be jet setting again, and in a few months he wouldn’t even remember my name. Meanwhile, I’d be back to my boring existence, knowing that I had already peaked. That nothing would ever compare to my time with Robert.
“Are you serious?”
His answer is a kiss. It lingers and my disbelief and hope and excitement have me wondering if this is the moment I’ll look back on in years as my turning point. Because right now, I don’t feel like the same person I was only three days ago.
Chapter 12
One Month Later
The sun is fully awake by the time I squint against its malevolent light. I’m just remembering exactly how much champagne and wine and shots we went through the night before. Hailey’s next to me, sexy despite the drool stain on her pillow. She’s managed to kick off half the blanket during the night, and her gorgeous leg is thrown over an extra pillow. Her lace panties are still on, despite my hopes and expectations from twelve hours ago. The fact is that we got absolutely out of control at the office outing last night.
Not that I regret it. Though not having a headache that threatens to shatter my skull into a thousand pieces would certainly be nice. But after we won approval for our solar farm in her hometown, it’s not exactly like we could just go out for a normal night. No, Hailey, ever the small-town girl with an appreciation for even the smallest of links on the chain, had to go and invite everyone who had anything to do with our proposal—down to the intern who copied the handouts for our presentation—out for a night on the town. Where we promptly drank every bottle of alcohol the city had to offer.
Even after I drag myself out of the bed, empty my bladder, and then drink four consecutive glasses of water, my eyes still haven’t managed to focus. And Hailey is still in the same position I left her in. After watching for a few seconds, I see her chest rise and fall. So she’s alive, at least. And time will tell if she’s suffering as much as I am.
Even if Hailey has cooked Southern biscuits three times since moving to the ‘big city’ as she still calls it in her cute, quaint accent, I’m not brave enough to do more than toast a few slices of bread. But slathered with real Irish butter and organic strawberry jam, it certainly looks delectable enough. A couple cups of orange juice and two fresh mugs of coffee rounds out what Hailey has started to refer to as ‘Continental Breakfast—Robert Style’.
I bring it on a tray to the bed and place it on the floor beside the bed. Then I kneel beside Hailey and watch her for a few seconds before I wake her.
If I were asked, even now, what it was that made me bring her to my apartment—to give up my one-night-stand lifestyle—I couldn’t really point out one specific thing.
Hailey is gorgeous, but this is New York City. And I’m the son of one of its richest. Beauty can be bought a dozen times over. It’s not her sense of humor either, which I’ve repeatedly told her again and again falls somewhere between corny and dad humor. That fact hasn’t stopped my half grins at any of her stupid jokes though.
Unlike the other plastic girls in the city, though, Hailey remains unimpressed with my bespoke s
uits and handmade leather shoes. She isn’t one to pay much attention to brand names, and even when we’ve been sat next to celebrities at restaurants this past month, she either hasn't recognized them, or she’s been more likely to make friends than ask for a shallow selfie to post to her non-existent social media.
Hailey is an endangered species in this day and age: a real person unaffected by hype and popularity.
My hand goes to her thigh to wake her, caressing up and down the skin.
I can’t help it. I’m already hard.
She wakes with a moan and a stretch that I can’t imagine being topped as the sexiest thing I see today. This stretch lifts her shirt, exposing her flat tummy. It doesn’t hurt that I can see her nipples poking through the fabric. Nor that she almost purrs as my fingers glide further up her inner thigh.
Here I was expecting her to wake with a hangover that would leave even her normally upbeat attitude in the gutter, but when her eyes flicker open, that spark is still in there. Her gaze flicks from me to the toast. She says in a rough, morning voice, “What a lovely breakfast you’ve brought me.”
