What was I thinking? I've spent years carefully separating my personal and professional lives. Now I've gone and slept with a woman I'll probably be working alongside every day.
A woman who, if I'm honest with myself, I doubt I’ll be able to stop thinking about.
"You know what your problem is?" He asks, as he grabs his empty coffee mug and starts rinsing it out.
"Please, enlighten me."
"You're overthinking this. You like her. So what? Maybe she likes you too."
"And maybe she doesn't. Maybe she got exactly what she wanted. One night, no strings." The thought bothers me more than it should.
"Only one way to find out." He shrugs. "But running away at dawn probably didn't help your chances."
The truth of his words sting. I don't run from things, not challenges, not fears, not difficult situations. Except, apparently I do run from hazel eyes and messy waves and the possibility of something that matters.
"I really messed this up, didn't I?"
Tyler's expression softens. "Maybe. Maybe not. But you won't know until you talk to her."
Monday. I have until Monday to figure out what the hell I'm going to say to her when I see her again.
Chapter six
Charlie
Monday morning hits differently after a weekend of overthinking and ice cream. I've cycled through every emotion. Embarrassment, anger, disappointment and landed on a forced professional detachment. The Sebastian chapter is officially closed.
I step into the elevator, adjusting my ivory blouse and smoothing my navy pencil skirt. Another cold front swept through overnight and while my outfit looked perfect in my bedroom mirror, right now I wish I'd grabbed that camel blazer hanging on my coat rack.
The elevator doors slide open to Titan's fourteenth floor. I shiver slightly as I cross the threshold, my pumps clicking against the polished concrete floors. Our office screams "modern tech firm that still wants to be taken seriously." It’s an open concept space with glass-walled conference rooms and just enough plants to seem environmentally conscious.
Before I can put a single thought together about my day, Zoe materializes at my side. My assistant has an uncanny ability to appear out of thin air, usually when I least expect it.
"Have you seen him yet?" she asks, practically vibrating with excitement.
"Seen who?" I furrow my brow. "I literally just walked in."
She rolls her eyes dramatically. "The new guy. The sports marketing consultant." She leans in conspiratorially. "He's hot. Like, illegally hot."
My stomach does that thing where it drops into my ass. New guy. Sports marketing. No. No way.
"I haven't had the pleasure," I say, keeping my voice neutral. "When did he start?"
"This morning. He's with Amelia now." She sighs dreamily. "He used to be a professional snowboarder. Has this whole rugged mountain man vibe but in a Tom Ford suit."
Damnit. No. The universe wouldn't be this cruel. It has to be someone else. Coincidences like this don't happen in real life.
"Fascinating," I murmur, moving toward my office. "Send me the brief for the Apex meeting when you get a chance?"
She nods, mercifully distracted by my request. "Already on it. Coffee refill in an hour?"
"You're a mind reader."
I close my office door, drop my bag on my desk, and take a steadying breath. My office is my sanctuary. Clean lines, organized shelves, a wall of windows overlooking the city. I arranged it deliberately, everything in its place. Control in physical form.
Settling at my desk, I power up my laptop and pull up my calendar. Back-to-back meetings until two, then prep for tomorrow's client presentation. No time to dwell on coincidences or supposedly hot new consultants who definitely aren't the same man who I had mind-blowing sex with and who left without a word on Saturday morning.
Ten minutes into reviewing quarterly projections, a knock on my door breaks my concentration. Amelia Oldroyd, VP of Marketing and my direct boss, stands in the doorway. She's the picture of corporate elegance in a burgundy pantsuit, and her silver-streaked bob perfectly styled.
