Chapter 10

10

Maybe the midday nap messed with my sleep schedule, or maybe it's the dread of everyone knowing what went down yesterday, but when I walk into the office the next morning, my stomach is queasy.

"Hey!" Cami calls out cheerfully, tossing up a hand in a wave. "Feeling better?

"Yeah." I pause, smiling while beating down the jealous monster clawing at my chest at the way Perry is leaning over her chair, doing something on her computer, one hand resting on her shoulder.

"Anything exciting happen yesterday...or lately?" I ask, waggling my eyebrows.

She waves a hand dismissively. "Just getting a new software update installed."

"Surrre," I tease, taking a step toward my office.

"Yeah, I'll need to do your laptop too, Wren," Perry adds, peering at me over the top of his glasses. "I'll be in once I finish up here."

"Sounds good to me," I reply before disappearing through my doorway.

On Wednesday afternoon, when Cami and I come back from lunch, Ethan is standing outside Bowie's door holding a white file box.

Prickles of goosebumps rise across my skin as the murmurs of harsh voices carry out of Bowie's office. I've got a solid guess as to what's happening, but when the door opens and Morgan from HR comes out, Allen following with a scowl on his face, I know for sure.

Cami and I step to the side, not wanting to be in the way, but our nosey asses don't want to miss any of the drama.

Morgan adds a manilla envelope to the box Ethan is holding and turns to Allen, saying, "It's a very generous severance package Mr. Whitmore, considering the circumstances."

He grumbles something under his breath, ripping the box rudely from Ethan's hands.

"Ethan, please escort Mr. Whitmore from the premises, he is not allowed on company grounds from this day forward."

"Yes, ma'am," Ethan replies, tipping his head towards us and the elevator. "Let's go, Mr. Whitmore."

"Happy now?" Allen sneers at me as Ethan presses the button to call the elevator up.

My face twists up in confusion and I dart a look to Cami before questioning, "Me?"

"Yeah, you fucked the boss to get my job." He lowers his voice, tone caustic as he adds, "Stupid whore."

"Whoaaaa," I say, holding up my hands. "Don't go blaming me for the fact you got caught stealing."

"You know?" His eyes round in realization, then his brows slam down. "So you were brought in to get me fired."

"Look," I say, tossing my hands up, not knowing what story is what. "I'm an assistant. I compiled reports and gave feedback on issues within them."

"Right," he scoffs. "Feedback while on your knees, maybe."

My blood boils, anger coursing through my veins at this man's audacity, and I want nothing more than to slap the creepy mustache from his face. But, with HR standing right there, I internally lecture myself on the need to remain professional.

Ethan presses a hand to Allen's back, directing him through the open doors of the elevator.

"Sorry you had to witness that, ladies," Morgan smiles at us politely while she waits for the next elevator. "Let me know if you have any issues and I can be back onsite."

Cami and I share a glance before retreating to our desks. I can't help but snicker at the whole thing. For a fleeting moment, I'm concerned that Allen actually knows something about Bowie and me, but how would he? He's just sour and making spiteful comments, so I let it roll off of me and get back to my job.

Later that afternoon, I receive an email from Bowie, instructing me to be an interim supervisor for the accounting department, because no one in the actual department wants to mess with the reporting and reviewing of data sheets. There's a link for a training program I can do online at the company's expense, and if I complete that, I can have the full compensation package associated with the department head title.

I really hope that no one else wants that job, because I don't want to deal with rumors of me blowing my way into a promotion- even if I do have the degrees for it.

Glancing at the clock, it's almost five - close enough. I shut down my computer and grab my purse as I pull open my door.

"See ya tomorrow Cami," I wave as I pass her desk.

"Oh Wren, wait," she calls out, motioning for me to come to her desk. "Here," she says, handing me two matte black business cards with an embossed purple butterfly and the words 'Monarch Club VIP' scrolled across them in silver.

"What's this for?" I ask, fingering the cards and flipping them around.

"Mr. Sorrentino asked that I give them to you. Access for you and a guest to the VIP section at the Monarch Club."

That place was gorgeous, and I've heard it's badass on the weekends. When we worked that catering event, it was obviously closed down for a private function, but it's got a reputation for being hard to get into- and now I have a VIP pass? Hell yeah.

"But, why?" I question.

She shrugs. "Said it was a thank you for the extra hours you'd put in on those reports or whatever."

Am I bitter that he couldn't man up and give them to me himself? A little. Am I excited for a chance to dress up, go out, and drink on his dime? Fuck yeah. And because I'm a masochist, I round Cami's desk toward his door, my heart thrumming in an anxious rhythm as I raise my hand to knock.

"Oh, he left already, girl." Cami closes her laptop, swiveling in her chair. "He's on a business trip. Won't be back in the office until Monday."

Even after his asshole-ish display, I can't help but feel an influx of dejection. There really is something wrong with me.

Sad girls don't wear stilettos.

I repeat mine and Drea's mantra as I buckle the strappy nude heels on my feet and push up from the bed to my full height.

Standing in front of the full-length mirror on the closet door, I twist around, checking out how great my ass looks in the skin-tight glittery champagne mini dress. I don't know if it's the deep cowl neck or the halter straps, but I swear my boobs look bigger.

I feel like a fucking baddie and I'm determined to have a good time tonight.

"Coming in," Drea announces as she twists the handle of my bedroom door, pushing inside.

"Daaamn bitch, you look fire!" she catcalls, strutting across the room to stand behind me

"Excuse me, Camila Mendes," I coo, twirling my finger in the air so she'll do a 360. "Have you seen my bestie?"

"You sure it doesn't give too much Barbie vibes?" she asks, toying with a magenta sequin.

"Positive," I say, swiping sheer gloss across my lips and twisting the lid back on the tube.

Turning to face her, I nod in approval. "Trust, you're a knockout babe."

"Okay," she sighs.

Her phone dings and she pulls it from her silver clutch, tapping on the screen. "Rideshare is five minutes out."

I tousle the loose waves of my hair, giving it a final fluff before I grab my clutch from the table, tuck the gloss and my phone inside, and cock an eyebrow at Drea. "I'm ready to get tipsy on the dance floor. Are you?"

She flips her slick straight brown locks over a shoulder. "Let's go!"

Taking our chances with the chill of a September night, we leave our jackets and go to the curb to wait for the rideshare. Luckily, it isn't long before the car pulls up, and we check the tags before sliding into the backseat and buckling in.

The lights of the city's skyline glow brightly against the dark night sky, and as we get closer to the club, I can hear 'Paint the Town Red' by Doja Cat playing quietly over the car's radio. The driver looks to be around our age, and she humors me when I ask her to turn it up.

"Mmm, she the devil," I start singing, whipping my head toward Drea and sliding my hands down my body. "She a bad lil' bitch, she a rebel." I hum some more, leaning a shoulder into her. "Take a whole lot for me to settle."

She laughs, leaning back into me. "Save it for the club!"

"You just don't want to hear me sing anymore." I pull a face, folding my arms at my chest.

"No," she says as she rolls her eyes, pointing out the windshield as the driver maneuvers to the curb. "We're here."

The line outside the building is insane. Groups of girls and guys all dressed to the nines weave a trail down the block. We thank the driver, and like some sort of celebrities, we march right up to the bouncer holding up the VIP cards.

Giving us a once over, he murmurs something into his earpiece before lifting the black velvet rope and motioning for us to go inside.

Pure excitement courses through me, my body vibrating to the beat of the steady thrums of club music pulsing around us when we step into the moodily lit room. Blue and purple lights radiate from the LED bars decorating the ceilings and walls. Another brick shithouse of a man in a perfectly tailored black suit greets us, then guides us to a reserved table at the back of the club with a perfect view of the entire dance floor.

We slide into the tufted purple booth and place our drink orders with the red-headed waitress, Crystal, who was already waiting for us.

"Oh my god!" Drea exclaims. "This place is incredible! It doesn't even look the same!"

"I know, right!" I squeal.

"Two kamikaze shots, a tequila sunrise, and a paloma," Crystal repeats, placing the colorful drinks down on the table.

We sing our thanks, grabbing for the shots first. "May the drinks be strong and the dicks be long!" Drea yells as we clink our glasses together.

Tossing back the shot, the sweet burn of vodka and citrus sends red hot prickles coursing through my veins. The heavy electric beat of David Guetta and Bebe Rexha's 'I'm Good' starts up, and my eyes widen in an unspoken plea to Drea.

Reading my mind, she hops up, and we snake our way through the sea of sweaty bodies pressed up against each other, moving in rhythm to the music until we find a spot in the middle of the dance floor to start this night off right.

After five or six songs, my body is covered in a sheen of sweat and my voice is hoarse from all the songs I've been belting out off-key. I grab Drea by the shoulder, leaning close to her ear and hooking a thumb over my shoulder. "I'm gonna grab some water, wanna come?"

Her eyes dart sideways to indicate the dark-haired wall of muscle beside her and she shakes her head. "If you're good by yourself, I'm gonna stay here."

I toss her a wink and turn to make my way through the crowd, nudging in at the end of the bar and leaning over the cool granite surface. Fanning myself with a flimsy cardboard coaster as I wait for the bartender, I feel the heat of another body press up against me from behind, large hands settling on my hips. It sets off a cacophony of alarm bells in my head. My stomach bottoms out, skin going ice-cold as my heart hammers in my chest at the unknown threat.

My fingers curl into a fist and I ram my elbow back, nailing the potential creep in the stomach. Then I whip around, ready to feign innocence, when the tauntingly familiar scent of woods and spice floods my senses. Recognition kicks in when I see Bowie's hauntingly handsome face contorted in shock and pain.

"Cazzo," he mutters with a cough.

"Bowie?!" I gasp. "What the-?"

"Fuck was that for?" he finishes for me, scowling.

Bowie's dark eyes lock on mine as I gnash my molars together, struggling to find words. I want to say something clever, something that could cut him down and make him feel as small as he made me feel earlier this week, but the words don't come to me. Instead, all the embarrassment and hurt that I felt leaving his office that day comes bubbling back up, and suddenly this club feels way too crowded and I can't breathe.

I push past him, shoving my way through the onlookers, trying to get to the hall I know leads to the back exit. Turning down it, the crowd thins the further I get, and by the time I reach for the door, I think I'm in the clear. But just as my fingers brush the cool metal of the door handle, a hand curls around my elbow. I don't have to look to know who it belongs to. I jostle my arm, trying to break free of his grasp, but he only tightens his grip and jerks me to a stop.

My chest heaves as I spin around, expecting to see his impassive face, but I'm surprised to find a flicker of hurt burning in his hazel eyes. And just like that, I feel myself being sucked back into his gravitational pull.

"Can we talk?" he asks gruffly, carding a tattooed hand through his dark hair. By the slightly disheveled look of it, I'd say he's been doing that a lot.

"Ha, now you want to talk?" I scoff, folding my arms across my chest and leaning back against the door. The bite of the cool metal acts like a balm to my flushed skin.

"Wren," he starts, erasing the distance between us and bracketing his arms around my head. "It was a mistake."

Deja vu slams into me, punching the air out of my lungs as Trey's same words echo in my head.

"Well, fuck you too!" I snap, slapping my palms against his chest in an attempt to get him and his damn audacity out of my bubble. "It's not a mistake if you keep consciously choosing it, asshole." I sidestep around him to stomp off down the hall, but he catches me by the wrist, and that touch is the friction that ignites the fire.

"That's not-"

"You know, when you recognized me, we could have talked then," I spit, snatching my hand back and resting it on my hip.

"Would you-"

"But no, you," I continue, wiggling my finger at him. "You kissed me."

"I know, can-"

"And you," I step closer, poking him in the chest. "Fucked me."

"Wren-"

"And I liked it, all of it. Hell…" I throw my hands up dramatically.

"Wren!" he barks, his commanding tone freezing the blood in my veins. I swallow harshly, my chest heaving with adrenaline, waiting for him to tear me apart with his words.

The muscle in his jaw ticks, the weight of his ardent stare cementing me in place. I squeal in surprise as he lunges forward, his shoulder meeting my hips, arm banding around my thighs as he hoists me up in a fireman carry and paces off. I fist the material of his shirt in one hand, banging the other against the small of his back.

"What are you doing!?" I demand.

THWACK.

His palm lands heavy on my ass, a moan falling from my lips and a knot coiling tightly in my belly as he keeps striding toward our unknown destination.

The strong, intoxicating scent of his cologne mixed with whiskey threatens to suffocate my system as my head bobs and swings while I watch the dark tiles of the floor turn to a familiar set of stairs. "If you think I'm going to fuck you in someone's office again, you're sadly mistaken," I grit out.

THWACK.

Heat prickles my skin, an ache growing between my thighs from the sting of another spanking.The imposition in his actions tonight is void of the abrasive undertone he showed me in our last encounter.

"I am going to talk and you are going to listen," he admonishes.

A shiver of excitement licks at my spine as we turn down a violet-hazed hall, stopping briefly before stepping into an elevator.

I'm still ruminating on the events of the week when the elevator's chime pulls me back to the present. We step into an elegantly decorated dark hall that looks like a high-end hotel, even from my upturned state.

Moonlight bathes the dark interior of the suite as his hands circle my waist and he shifts me to sit on the counter. My heartbeat quickens as he parts my legs, stepping between them and resting his hands on my thighs.

"I shouldn't have acted that way. You didn't deserve my anger, Passerotta."

I squeeze my eyes shut, forcing back the tears that threaten to fall as my anger dissipates and hurt swells in its place. "Why did you?"

His throat bobs with a swallow and he rolls his bottom lip between his teeth. "It's hard to explain, but I… feel something with you, and it scared me."

There's so much sincerity flooding his features I could drown. I thread my arms around his neck and whisper, "What do you feel, Bowie?"

I know what I'm starting to feel. The connection between us is impossible to ignore, but I always do this, give myself fully to anyone willing in the moment only to be met with disappointment and another chink in my armor. I shouldn't give in so easily, I should fight more, demand he grovel at my feet, but the vulnerability he's showing me is so out of character it gives me pause. Then all my fire is doused when he tilts his head to rest his forehead on mine, nipping at my lips, his words breathing life into my soul. "Tomorrow. Just be with me tonight."