“Now you’re being mean.”
Was she? “That wasn’t my intention. I left the bar with you because you get this look in your eyes when you’re being sincere. Like when you were talking about your tattoos.”
He kissed her cheek. Such a tender gesture, compared to moments ago. “Don’t let that get out. The last thing I need is for people to think I get all doe eyed when I talk about Dark Phoenix.”
A snick filled the room. The door latched open, and she shot her head up. Time slowed to a crawl, as the door swung open and Antonio’s voice carried through. “Next time you’re going to pass me a half-hour time suck, warn me first.” He paused in the doorway, gaze fixed on her and Justin.
A chill blanketed Emily, reminding her how little she wore.
Justin opened his mouth. “Ant—”
“You know what? I don’t care,” Antonio said. “It doesn’t matter to me that you’re fucking each other, but I need assurances it doesn’t bleed into our work. Right now, I don’t believe that. I’m going to close the door long enough for you to get dressed. I’ll be here when you’re both decent, and we’ll all sit down and talk. Look each other in the eye. Discuss if this ends with me going back to Italy.”
Emily’s insides churned into a fine mush as he spoke, but the last bit of his statement knocked her thoughts off-kilter. Where the hell did that come from?
Before Antonio finished closing the door, Justin was prompting Emily to stand. She understood the urgency. There was no part of her that believed for a second she was—or should be—more important than their friendship. But the action still nagged her. Why couldn’t there be a way to walk out of here right now—sneak back to her desk without being seen, grab her purse, and never come back?
At least after this conversation, she wouldn’t be up all night wondering if Justin was going to call Grant and tell him to never send Emily back... for whatever reasons he’d give.
The thought wasn’t as reassuring as she’d hope. She pulled on her slacks, buttoned her blouse, and grabbed her jacket from the floor. Justin had stripped off the condom and disposed of it. He stood near the door, waiting.
“You good?” he asked.
Not really. The anxiety clawing through her removed most of her mental capacity. Thankfully, it also blocked out her reaction to how incredible he looked with his hair mussed and his shirt untucked. She nodded.
Justin let Antonio back in the room. “Let’s talk, starting with tabling the idea of you leaving and working our way out from there.”
Emily sank into a chair by the table, hoping to keep her distance and wishing the weakness in her legs was caused by leftover euphoria, and not hedging nausea.
Chapter Eleven
ANTONIO SHOULD SIT, but the adrenaline coursing through him wouldn’t allow it. Justin sat behind his desk, expression blank. Emily was on the other side of the room, looking like she wanted to crawl under the table and vanish.
Antonio felt bad about that.
“Your show, boss.” Justin broke the silence.