Page 36 of Her New Billionaire Bosshole

But she’s right. It’s not very professional of us. And I know I have to give her an out. Have to show her that it doesn’t matter to me, one way or another, whether she stays or goes this morning.

“It would be best for us to remain friendly colleagues, right?”

I have to show her that none of this will affect the club, which is probably her main worry. The reason she looks so nervous right now. The thing on her mind as she stares at me with that strange, unsure glint in her eye.

“Right. So, we should probably keep this just between us?”

“Of course.”

Sophie stands, coughs, grabs her phone from the side table, her eyes cast down at the floor as she scoots past me.

“I’ll, uh?—”

“See you on the plane,” I say, smiling, but it feels strange on my face. Shaped the wrong way, like I woke up this morning and forgot how to make expressions.

When the door shuts behind her, something dark settles into my chest, a sort of dread, an understanding that I’ve just made a huge mistake. I ignore the voice in my head telling me to go after her and turn, grabbing my phone.

There are already dozens of notifications on the screen. People who want to have meetings, calendar invites, changes, emails,adjustments, updates on the changes in the stock market, texts from Skylar.

Even if I’d wanted to lay in bed with Sophie this morning, I don’t have the time.

As I settle in at the desk in my room, working methodically through each message, email, and update, I tell myself that it’s for the best. That I’ve made the most logical, strategically sound decision in turning her away.

That Sophie was already thinking of last night as a mistake, and all I did was agree with her.

CHAPTER 18

SOPHIE

“Wait—”

Olivia’s voice is fuzzy through the phone, her face slightly pixelated on the screen as she stares out at me, her eyebrows raised.

“Wait,” she starts again, shaking her head so her braids toss over her shoulders. “Yousleptwith him?—?”

“Jesus, Liv,” I laugh, grabbing for the volume button. I’m alone in my apartment, but for some reason, I have the irrational fear that someone might hear what we’re saying.

Specifically thatElliot Altmanmight overhear.

Which makes absolutely no sense. He’s not here. He’s probably back at his hotel, juggling responsibilities and barely even thinking about what happened between us.

Definitely not thinking about it as much as I’ve been.

My mind flashes back to waking up in the hotel room. Hearing him in the shower, and the urge to go join him in there. The thing that held me back, this strange feeling in the air.

Like he wouldn’t want me in there with him.

So I got out of the bed, moving robotically, putting my clothes back on, feeling ridiculous in the dress from the night before. More than anything, I wished I had a pair of sweats to change into. Something more comfortable, something that didn’t screamwalk of shame.

Then, the look on his face when he came out.

Telling Olivia about it, I made it sound like a joke. In that moment, it didn’t feel like a joke. It felt embarrassing, like I’d overstayed my welcome.

Like I’d clearly read into the situation more than Elliot wanted me to.

“I already told you, he said it was amistake,” I hiss, pulling the phone closer and glaring at my sister. Behind her face on my screen is the kitchen counter, which is a complete mess, covered with flour, sugar, and various sticky substances.

When I catch sight of myself in the little selfie screen, I realize I have a swipe of flour over my cheek and start to wipe at it, trying to get it off.