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I check the door to make sure I'm alone and then quickly pull the card out, flipping it over. My breath stalls in my throat when I see The Sterling Rope embossed across the top in gold.
I scan the card, my heart pounding against my ribcage as I read.
Roman Sterling cordially invites you to The Sterling Rope on any night of your choosing. Please present this invitation at the door for an all-access pass to the club and all its wicked delights.
Roman Sterling invited Coby to his club.
"Oh, God," I whisper, bile crawling up my throat at the thought of Coby visiting the infamous BDSM club. Not because I care what happens there. I don't. People are free to do whatever they want. I may be a virgin, but I'm not going to judge anyone for their choices, not when my best friend is interested in the lifestyle. But I feel sick at the thought of Coby going there. Of Coby being with someone else. Of Coby doing any of those things with someone who isn't me.
The thought hurts far more than I'm prepared to admit. Far more than I'm prepared to deal with. He's in hell because I'm coming to work here. And now, I feel a little like I might be in hell, too.
It was stupid to think I had a chance with him, but I let myself hope anyway.
To him, I'll always be Keegan's annoying little sister, the girl who wears dresses that are too tight and too short. That isn't who I am, but it's what he thinks. It's what he sees because it's exactly what I've been doing for the last two months. Every time he complains, my dresses have gotten shorter.
Funny that he has a problem when I do it, but he has no problem going to a club where everyone strips down to nothing. The issue isn't my dresses. It's that he doesn't like me.
If ever I needed proof, it's in my hands right now. I don't stand a chance with Coby because he can't stand the sight of me.
I picked a great day to take a job here.
I slip his invitation into my pocket, closing the drawer of his desk. I know I should put it back and walk away, but I can't bring myself to do it. I can't change the way he feels about me. I know that. But that doesn't mean I can't make him squirm a little bit. He's earned it after spending the last two months growling at me every time we're in the same room.
"What are you doing at my desk?"
I jump, lifting my gaze to see him standing in the doorway, his eyes narrowed on me.
"Trying to decide if I want to set it on fire," I lie, batting my lashes at him. "Got any matches?"
"Jesus Christ." He shakes his head, holding out a sheaf of papers toward me. "Your tax forms and the other shit Slade needs you to fill out."
"So, no matches then." I pop up from his chair, smoothing my skirt down over my ass. "Got it."
A tiny smile ghosts across his face. "Have you always been this difficult, princess? Or do you reserve that fucking attitude for me?"
"Oh, it's just for you." I beam at him, sashaying toward him to snatch the papers from him. "You're the one who thinks working with me will be hell."
"That's not what I said, Elodie."
"That's exactly what you said, Coby."
"The hell it is," he growls. "I said I'm already in hell."
"You aren't making this any better."
"That's because you don't want to hear what I have to say, princess. You want to go on being pissed at me for whatever excuse you've manufactured to keep from dealing with the truth."
"Whatever excuse I've manufactured? The fact that you're an idiot isn't an excuse. It's reality."
He opens his mouth to say something and then snaps it closed again, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You're right. I am an idiot."
"Yeah, I know."
"You deserve better than this place, princess," he says, reaching out to grab my arm as I stomp past him. "Be pissed at me if it makes you feel better, but it doesn't change the fact that you don't belong here. You belong in a fucking executive suite, ruling the goddam world. We both know you're settling here."
"Maybe I don't want to rule the world, Coby," I whisper, tugging free of his grip as electricity runs up and down my arm. "Maybe I'd rather follow my heart."
"It's not good enough for you."
"I guess it's a good thing that it's not your business then, isn't it?" I ask, walking away.
"Do I want to know where you got this?" Gemma asks, gaping at the invitation I just dropped in her lap.
"Nope," I say, scraping my hair back into a ponytail. "The less you know, the better."
