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If today has proven anything, it’s that she wants me, but she’s fighting herself on this.
Now dressed, I sit at my desk and try to concentrate on the work I need to get done before my trip, a headache threatening to end my day earlier than expected.
These next few days in Chicago will be the perfect opportunity for me to see how open she’d be to having something casual between us.
Before I even broach that, I need to decide if I’m ready for it. To be casual with her would most likely mean only her.
EIGHT
Alex
After leaving Sebastian’s office, I all but run back to Jackson and Partners. Even now, an hour later, I can still feel him inside of me. It’s like he’s stretched me out and my body is still adjusting. I hate that, yet again, I have given into my most basic of desires with him.
Why do I do this? It’s like every time I see him, I drop my panties.
I’m not going to do it anymore. I’m going to keep things on a professional level because I can’t be his legal counsel if I’m sleeping with him. Most importantly, I need to be strong and stick to my guns.
On Saturday, Savannah, Meghan, Ben and I are going for lunch, and I’m going to tell them everything that has happened. And I mean everything.The good, the bad and the ugly.I clearly need someone holding me accountable for my actions if I’m going to stick to my plan.
I’m too caught up in giving myself a pep talk that I don’t hear my boss, Belinda’s approach. When she speaks, I all but jump out of my chair, placing my hand on my chest over my now racing heart.
“Alexandra, do you have the Ainsley file?”
“Sorry, Belinda. Let me just get that for you.”
She looms over me as she lets out a sigh and taps the toe of herManolo Blahniksin annoyance. I barely resist the urge to roll my eyes at her. Not two seconds into my search and she taps her toe harder with impatience.God, she can be such a bitch.
“Any day now would be nice, Alexandra,” she huffs.
Breathe, Alex.
Typically, the file is at the bottom of the ones piled high on my desk, but a quick look through shows my notes stuck inside. I breathe a sigh of relief as I hand the file over, a serene smile on my face.
“Here you go.”
Her eyes narrow at me when she takes it. She flips through it, and then turns on her heel to walk away. No ‘thank you’, but that’s just typical Belinda. My focus goes back to typing out the report I was working on before she interrupted me.
The sound of my phone buzzing in my bag has me looking over the partition of my desk like a meerkat. I’m not expecting any work calls and Belinda is a stickler for making sure cell phones areonlyused for business purposes during working hours.
With no sign of her, and certain it’s going to be a message in the group chat about brunch tomorrow, I enter stealth mode and pull my phone out of my bag. I keep it hidden under my desk, as the screen lights up, showing the trail of messages in the group chat. There’s another text on the screen from an unknown number, so I click in to read that one first.
Unknown
I’ve booked your flight and accommodation. We’re departing from terminal 4 at JFK. I will see you there at midday on Sunday.
I know exactly who this is from, even though I deleted his number just last week. He clearly didn’t heed my request when I suggested that he lose mine. I’m tempted to ignore his message and make my own arrangements, but he’s a billionaire, so I’m sure what he’s booked will be ten times nicer than what I would.
Alex
Thank you, Mr. Worthington.
Polite yet professional. Exactly how I need to keep all of our interactions going forward. I move from his message to the group chat, where they’re arguing about where to go for brunch. I shoot off a quick message with the one spot I know they’ll all love.
The Atrium is a beautiful restaurant, popular with the influencer types for their aesthetic and fantastic food. It helps that they also serve crazy potent cocktails. It doesn’t take long for my suggestion to be met with an influx of gifs and cheers, just like I knew it would.
* * *
Despite it being a Saturday and a day I could be sleeping in, I’ve been up since six am, with too much energy coursing through my body. My suitcase is open on my bed, half packed, as I rummage through my closet for outfits that scream ‘professionalism’, cursing myself as I come up short.I’ve got to have something in here that’s at least past my knees.
