"B?" Ethan had answered, confused.
"Have one of the guys pick up the G-Wagon at La Déesse." I didn't give him any further explanation, using theI'm your boss,to justify myself. He knew better than to question my orders, regardless of what a smart-ass he was at other times.
"Uh, okay?"
I hung up, peering at the clock on the stove. It was only seven, not time for bed, but I also didn't want to go back to the main house. Opening the fridge, I propped myself against the door. A flutter of relief and excitement swirled in my stomach. Ethan had forgotten the remnants of the six-pack he had brought last time he came over, leaving four for me.
Not how I had planned on spending my evening, but everything was better than reliving the moment my cock entered Denielle's pussy. Heat instantly flooded me, and I grabbed the first bottle from the shelf, forgetting about my error in judgment—until she placed her lips on the corner of my mouth the next morning.
CHAPTERFOURTEEN
DENIELLE
I findDenis in his office slash studio. Thankfully, Collin is nowhere in sight. I knock on the frame and wait for him to acknowledge me. He's hunched over his desk, sketching. His pursed lips clue me in that he is in his own world—I've seen that on a few occasions in the short time I've worked for him. It takes two more taps before he notices me.
"Denielle! How are you feeling?"
"Better, thank you." My mouth runs dry as I take a step forward. Wringing my hands together, I hesitate. "I, uh… I wanted to apologize for yesterday."Please don't ask what happened.I don't want to lie to him.
"No need. We all go through things, and unless it impacts your ability to do your job, I won't pry." Denis glances between me and his sketchpad. Is he trying to get rid of me, or does he mean it? I slant my head, scanning his features. He appears genuine, but suspicion gnaws on my insides, especially after what Collin revealed.
"What's on today's agenda?" I decide not to press the issue, topic, whatever you want to call it. If he doesn't, I certainly won't.
Denis twists to the side, hitting a few keys on his laptop. "You have a consultation in an hour. The request came in last night. She has one of my previous designs—a few years old—and wants some alterations. You can handle it."
Um, wow.I've been here less than a week, and he saw me lose it in the middle of the street, yet, nonetheless, he hands me a new customer. "Are you sure? I mean, after… and, you know…" My gaze flitters across the room, everywhere but at my boss. Disbelief urges me to get additional confirmation.
He waves me off, peering down at whatever he's working on. "Absolutely. I must make a few changes before yourdarling exreturns at three." The way he sneers his words indicates he enjoys Collin's company as much as I do.
Immature satisfaction pulls at the corner of my mouth. "Okay. Let me know if you need anything. I'll be downstairs." When he doesn't respond and ferociously begins to put pencil to paper, I take it as my dismissal.
I drop off my purse in my office. Stopping in the small kitchen, I finally get the caffeine fix I forwent earlier, thanks to my grand idea to put my mouth on Marcus Baxter.
Standing in the small space, I eye the lined mugs in the open cabinet. Images of fresh linens flash in front of me. My fingers wrapped around the edge of the shelf while Marcus… A tingling sensation begins to stir in my core and spreads while a flush creeps up my neck. I raise my palm to my face.Jesus, I need to get it together.My cheek is feverish, and my eyes flutter closed. That was, by far, one of the dumbest decisions I've ever made.
At this rate, I won't be able to focus on the client, who is supposed to be here in—I open my eyes and glance at my watch—twenty minutes. I inhale slowly through my nose and hold my breath until the burn begins to spread before releasing it with a whoosh. This is in the past, all of it. None of it ever happened—at least that's what I'll pretend.
With my coffee in hand, I head back to my office. Grabbing my laptop from my desk, I pause. At the corner of my desk sits a pink orchid.
Was this here earlier?
I scan the room as if someone will pop out of thin air, revealing themselves with widespread arms and a loudta-da. I was just across the hall, but I had my back to the corridor. Wouldn't I have heard if anyone had passed me? Paranoia slithers up my spine, and I jump at a noise outside the room. Whirling around, I stare at the empty doorway, then realize the sound came from Denis next door. Curses and words liketoo midwestern, not enough glamour, andcountry bumpkintravel through the walls. I'm guessing something went wrong with his work in progress.
Focusing back on my office, I slowly make my way around the desk. I admire the beautiful flower. A small, folded card is attached to the stem, and I clasp the corner between my thumb and forefinger. Bending it open without removing it, my brows furrow.
You deserve everything you get.
My heart skips,and I pull my hand back as if the paper has cut me. No signature. What the fuck?
Is this a compliment or a threat?
And who sent it? Orchids are my favorite, always have been. The same way calla lilies are Lilly's. My friends and family know that, and…Collin. No. Why would he send this? The message doesn't make sense.
My desk phone rings, and the number from the showroom scrolls over the display.
"Hello?"
"Hey, Den. It's Cassy. Your consult just walked in."