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The woman bobs her head, barely even sober enough to comprehend what he’s saying, and then they both carry on their walk-slash-stagger down the hall.
For a few moments, I stand there in the doorway, startled. My blood runs cold.
Is . . . is that what Brock and I look like? The big-shot businessman and his little bit on the side?
I suddenly feel a little queasy. Where there had been lust and passion just a few moments before, I now only feel . . . kind of gross.
I don’t want to be that person—the person who sleeps with their boss, the subject of office gossip. I don’t want people to say that I’m trying to sleep my way to the top, and I really don’t want things to get awkward between Brock and me at work.
Maybe sometimes, teenage crushes should stay in the past where they belong. I’m not that teenage dork anymore, and Brock isn’t the same guy either.
Things have changed. We’ve changed.
I turn back to face Brock. He’s still on the bed, still aroused, still ready for me. But I just don’t feel it now.
“Come back to bed,” he says, his voice thick with desire.
Even after what I’ve just witnessed, I almost do. I almost follow his bidding . . . but I can’t.
We can’t do this.
“Sorry, Brock.” I swallow. How is my mouth so dry? I force myself to continue. “I, uh . . . I’ve got a headache. Maybe a little too much of that wine at the restaurant. I’m not feeling so good. I think I’m just going to get an early night.”
A multitude of emotions flit across Brock’s gorgeous face. He looks surprised and disappointed and concerned, all at once.
“Well . . . sure, that’s fine,” he says. “Whatever you want. Do you want me to go get you some Tylenol or something?”
“No. No, that’s sweet, but I’m fine. A good night’s sleep, and I’ll be right as rain.”
He climbs off the bed and comes to me. “Listen, Nina, if I moved too fast there, I want to apologize. The last thing I wanted to do was make you feel uncomfortable.”
I give him a wan smile. “No, don’t be silly. I was just as much in the moment as you right then. It’s just . . .” I want to tell him the truth about what I saw and how I feel, but I can’t. I don’t want him to take it the wrong way. “It’s just, I feel like crap, really.”
He nods, looking serious. “I understand. You get some rest, and I’ll see you in the morning. If you need anything, I’m next door.”
“Thanks, Brock.”
He leaves and closes the door quietly behind him, leaving me standing there alone. I sit heavily on the bed, wondering if I’ve just made the best or the worst decision of my life.
Time will tell, I suppose.
I hear something vibrating. My phone is still in my bag, which I tossed carelessly on the couch when Brock and I stumbled into the room.
The last thing I want to do is talk to anyone, but it could be important.
It’s Dean.
I debate just hanging up and calling him tomorrow, but I did promise I’d get in touch, and I haven’t done it.
“Hi, Dean.”
“Hey,” comes his familiar voice. “How are things in the Big Apple? Look at you, city girl all grown up.”
“It’s been amazing,” I say. “I got to play tourist today. Saw all the sights, did some shopping, ate some pizza.”
“So you haven’t had any issues?” he asks. He sounds concerned.
“Issues?” I ask.
“Yeah. You know me. I’m your big brother, and you’re all I’ve got. I worry about you. I’ve got to look out for you. You know? Just checking that you’re taking care of yourself.”
“I’m fine, Dean. Honestly, anyone listening would think I was a little kid and you were my dad. You don’t need to check up on me to make sure I’m behaving myself.” I pause for a moment. “Thanks for doing it though. It means a lot to me.”
He laughs. “See? I know what you need, little sister. Your big brother is always going to be looking over your shoulder. Don’t forget that.”
He’s silent for a few moments, and I get the feeling that there’s something else he wants to say. But I’m so not in the mood.
“Listen, Dean. I know I said we’d have a chat, but it’s been a really long day, and all I want to do is take a bath and get some sleep in this fancy-ass hotel bed. Can I call you back in the morning?”
“Sure,” he says, sounding pensive. “Let me ask you one more thing first. How has Brock been? Has he . . . you know, tried anything with you?”
“What? Brock? No, no way,” I say, probably a few pitches too high. I laugh nervously and clear my throat before I speak again, making sure to keep my voice steady. “He’s been a great boss, flew me out first class and everything. The consummate professional.”
