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I
Woke Up Wed
Description
My boss can barely stand five minutes with me.
But I wake up wearing his ring.
We had two goals for this business trip: to land a major client, and to make it through forty eight hours without killing each other. So far? Only the client is a sure thing.
Because we wake up together,hungover and half dressed in my suite. So many questions. Such a freakingmess.
And I only remember snatches of last night. Giddy, colorful glimpses of dark clubs and a chapel and–oh god. Did my grumpy boss really lick tequila out of my belly button? Say it isn’t so!
It can’t be real. Must be some horrible prank.
Because hehatesme. Doesn’t he?
Effie
My mouth is full of sand. That’s what this is, right? That’s why my throat is so dry I can barely swallow; why my tongue feels thick and furry. I groan and tilt to one side, shifting my rotting carcass onto my shoulder, and after three slow breaths, I force open one eye.
Light.
Bright sunshine spilling through open drapes.
Colors.Pale pink walls and sparkling chrome.
I screw my eyes shut again with a groan, a headache pounding in my temples, but something’s not right. The room I just saw pieces itself together slowly in my brain, and… it loomed overhead, glittering with destruction, the furniture way too big. This isn’t a normal angle. I’m on the freaking floor.
“Ngh.” Can’t speak. Can’t work my tongue. Can only rub my head against the floor, slow and stiff, eyes still slammed shut, and… yep. Yeah, that’s carpet.
Oh, boy.
Am I dying? Did I tease Mr Coltrane so much he finally snapped, poisoning me instead of telling me I’m fired? But… no. This rolling stomach and rapid heartbeat, this clammy sweat and aching skull—it’s all shamefully familiar.
This is what a night of bad decisions feels like.
This is a hangover of epic proportions.
“Fucksaaake.” I sound pathetic to my own ears. My own muffled, ringing ears. And rolling onto my front, mashing my cheek into the scratchy carpet, takes more effort than any workout class I’ve ever done.
What. The hell. Happened.
And shit, what did Ido? Because this isn’t my apartment. This isn’t even mycity, because it’s coming back to me now. The unfamiliar room and the pale pink walls; the generic artwork and coffee station. This is a hotel suite.Myhotel suite.
The business trip. The client meeting.
The argument with my boss.
Oh god. Oh god, oh god.
Did he see me last night? Okay, if that uptight asshole witnessed my messy night, I’ll jump into traffic. He’s judgmental enough on a good day, damn it, and if he sees me likethis, looking and feeling like roadkill, he’ll probably fire me on the spot. Right after he fixes me with that knowing glare, the one that says:Oh, Effie. So predictable, and such a disappointment.
Okay. Deep breaths.
In through the nose, out through the mouth.
