“Is Hannah your roommate?” Peter asked beside me. I hadn’t even realized he’d snuck in after me, but I suppose I had been a bit distracted by other things.
I glanced back toward Hannah, who was checking her reflection in a small compact mirror.
I laughed. “Yup, that’s my roomie.”
“She was pretty trashed last night,” he said, making a drinking motion with his thumb and pinky finger. “Kind of a bold move at her first office happy hour.”
I smiled. “No kidding. In her defense, I'd be drinking too if Alan was my mentor.”
“I ended up calling a cab for her. She wasn’t looking so good at the end there.”
I glanced back toward Hannah. She was staring up at Grayson adoringly, inching closer toward him by the second. He didn’t even notice her presence as he kept right on speaking with another associate.
“Thanks for doing that,” I muttered. “She actually said something about you trying to hit on her.” I slid him a playful smile so he’d know that I was on his side.
He chuckled and shook his head. “Oh god. Please tell me you have more faith in me than that. I was probably trying to tell her that the cab was ready to take her home.”
I shot him a wink and was about to reply when Grayson interrupted me.
“Good morning, everyone,” Grayson’s voice boomed from the front of the room. My heart skidded to a stop as I glanced up at him. That voice had whispered in my ear just a few hours earlier. “I won’t be keeping you long, so listen up. I want to update everyone on the current projects we have lined up. We’ve had quite a few jobs come in during the last week so I’ll assign each team a new client before we leave and I need you to establish contact with them by the end of the day. Meetings with the engineering and interior teams should be set up for sometime next week.”
Every person in the room was staring at him and memorizing his words or jotting them down quickly in their notebooks. His voice was rich and sharp—too confident to be ignored. Twenty-four hours ago I didn’t know what that voice sounded like in my bedroom. I didn’t know what it was like to hear him whisper dirty things into my ear as his hands slid across my skin. Now I knew his voice all too well and I couldn’t escape the memories bombarding me from every angle.
That’s what happens when you sleep with your boss, genius.
As if he could read my thoughts, Grayson’s eyes finally found me, huddled against the side wall with my arms crossed.
I held my breath, trying to steel myself for the worst possible reaction. His speech faltered for a moment and then the side of his mouth hitched up almost imperceptibly, but I saw it and it was all I needed to know.
Things were different. Last night changed everything.
The meeting didn’t last more than ten minutes after that, and before I trailed out, Grayson called my name.
I stopped in the doorway and turned toward him, aware that there were still twenty or so employees milling around the room, and at least half of them had paused their conversation to see what he wanted to talk to me about.
I walked toward him and paused a safe distance away. “Yes, Mr. Cole?”
He smirked at my formality.
“Would you mind reading this and passing it along to Alan?” he asked, holding out a small post-it note. Alan had walked out of the room not two seconds before. I knew this because I’d been trying to avoid walking near him in an attempt to save us both the trouble of small talk. Grayson could have easily given Alan the post-it note himself.
I took the post-it from his hand, careful to avoid physical contact, and then walked out of the conference room without another word. Midway back to my desk, I glanced down at the note. He hadn’t taken the time to fold it or conceal the message. The words were there, plain to read: Meet me at Lawry’s Deli for lunch.
When I glanced back to the conference room, Grayson was already chatting with a few senior associates.
Did he really intend on having me pass the note along to Alan?
My gut told me no, which meant my lunch break was about to get a lot more interesting.
…
At half past noon, I walked into the deli during their lunch rush. Lively music blasted through the speakers overhead and employees with bright bandanas wrapped around their foreheads were whipping up sandwiches behind the deli counter at lightning speed. Every few seconds, an employee would ring the bell next to the cash register and then shout a name.
“Carol! Order up!”
Another ding of the bell.
“Sandy! Your order is ready!”
Ding!
Their sandwiches must have been pretty good considering how many people were in line to get one. Just as the bell on the counter rang again, accompanied by another shouted name, I felt a hand wrap around my waist until pausing on the inside of my hip bone.