Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 65987 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 330(@200wpm)___ 264(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65987 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 330(@200wpm)___ 264(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
"I should go," I replied, the words coming out more abruptly than I'd intended. "Before the staff starts arriving."
Something flickered in his expression I couldn’t decipher before his usual mask of control returned. "I can have clothes sent up. Something fresh for you to wear home."
I shook my head, pulling my top together and buttoning it closed with fingers that weren't quite steady. "This is fine. I just need to..." I gestured vaguely at my rumpled appearance.
"Of course." He stepped aside, pointing toward a door I hadn't noticed the night before. "The bathroom is there. Take whatever you need."
I scurried past him, careful not to let our bodies touch, and shut the bathroom door behind me with perhaps more force than necessary. I leaned against it, catching my breath, before turning to face my reflection in a mirror larger than the entire length of my bathroom at home.
I looked exactly like what I was. A woman who'd spent the night being thoroughly fucked. My hair was a tangled mess, my lips slightly swollen, and a small bruise was forming at the juncture of my neck and shoulder where Dario's mouth had been particularly enthusiastic. I splashed cold water on my face, trying to clear my head and calm the panic rising in my chest. Because I remembered clearly we hadn’t used a condom. I’d been too far gone to demand one and he hadn’t offered.
What happened now? Did we pretend nothing had changed? Did I become his secret upstairs indulgence while working my shifts below? The thought made my stomach twist. I didn’t want to turn the best physical experience of my life into something icky, but I was headed that way. I used his brush to tame my hair and borrowed some mouthwash, doing what I could to make myself presentable. When I emerged from the bathroom, Dario stood by the bed, holding something in his hands.
"Your bag," he said, offering it to me. "You left it downstairs last night. I retrieved it for you."
"Thank you." I took it, careful to avoid touching his fingers. Or looking at him.
We stood awkwardly for a moment, the passion of the night before replaced by morning uncertainty. I shifted my weight, adjusting my shirt self consciously.
"You've missed a button," Dario said quietly, stepping closer.
Before I could react, his hands were at my waist, as he pulled me slowly and gently toward him. He deftly realigned the mismatched buttons of my shirt. The domestic intimacy of the gesture caught me off guard, making my throat tight with emotion I couldn't name. When he finished, his hands lingered at my sides, warm through the thin fabric.
"Belle," he began, then stopped, seeming uncharacteristically at a loss for words. "About last night—"
"It's okay," I interrupted, unable to bear hearing him say it was a mistake, a one time indulgence, or worse, an offer to continue in some clandestine arrangement. "We don't have to make it into something it wasn't."
His eyebrows drew together. "And what do you think it wasn't?"
I looked away, heat climbing my neck. "Important? Meaningful? Something worth complicating both our lives over?"
Gently, he caressed my chin with his finger before gently urging me to look up at him. "Is that what you believe, or what you think I believe?"
"Does it matter?" I asked, hating the vulnerability in my voice.
"Yes." The single word carried weight, forcing me to meet his gaze. “It matters very much.”
What I saw there made my heart stutter. Not calculation or casual interest, but something deeper, more conflicted played across his features. Something that mirrored the chaos in my chest.
"I should go," I repeated, stepping back from his touch. "People will talk if I'm seen leaving your apartment in the morning."
Dario's expression hardened slightly, but he nodded. "I'll take you down."
"No," I said quickly. "I can find my way. Better if we're not seen together."
He looked like he wanted to argue but simply walked to the door instead, opening it for me with formal courtesy that felt like a wall rising between us. I stepped into the hallway, clutching my bag against my chest, already rehearsing how I'd slip back to the staff area unseen.
The elevator chime rang just as Dario opened the door, and we both froze at the sound of approaching footsteps. I had a split second to register Dario's expression shifting from surprise to anger before Valentina rounded the corner, her hand raised as if about to knock. She stopped abruptly, shock on her face before she narrowed her gaze on me. There was no denying the woman’s shark-like beauty. Her make-up was perfectly applied, her business dress crisp and tailored to her form in the most flattering cut. The calculation in her eyes, followed closely by malicious delight as she took in my rumpled appearance and Dario standing in the doorway made me duck my head before I could stop myself.