At 12:30, I grab my phone and escape to the stairwell. Twenty-eight flights of concrete. Nobody comes here except for fire drills.
I sit on the cold steps and call Sora.
She picks up on the second ring. “Please tell me you’re calling to say you quit and you’re moving to Portugal with me.”
“Sora.”
“What? Portugal has great pastries and no billionaires.”
I press my free hand to my forehead. “I need help.”
“Obviously. I’ve been saying this for weeks.”
“I slept with him again.”
Silence. Then: “Spill.”
I tell her everything. The explosive confrontation in my apartment after he followed me. The sex that was somehow angry and tender at the same time. The way he left before sunrise, and tried to pretend things were normal all the rest of that day.
“And last night,” I finish, “we stayed late, and when we were alone in his office we started kissing.”
“Oh my god!” Sora says. “You two can’t take your hands off each other. I’m not sure if that’s cute or gross. So he ravaged you on his desk or what?”
“No!” I reply.
“Oh,” Sora says, sounding disappointed.
“I pushed him away,” I explain.
“Ah.”
“And now he’s treating me colder than ever,” I finish.
Sora makes a sound that’s somewhere between a sigh and a growl. “Why did you push him away?”
“I don’t know. I got scared. It was happening so fast and I just... panicked.”
“Okay. Have you tried talking to him about it?”
I bark out a laugh. “Talking to Nico Rossi about feelings? Sure. Right after I teach a cat to do my taxes.”
“Bree. I’m serious. You can’t keep doing this dance where you sleep together and then pretend it didn’t happen. You went into his office, made out with him, and then pushed him away. He probably thinks you regret it. Not just the kiss, but everything.”
Do I regret it?
That’s the question, isn’t it. The one I’ve been avoiding since I woke up alone in my bed this morning with the sheets still smelling like his cologne.
“I don’t think I regret it,” I admit quietly.
“Then tell him that. Tell him you got scared and put your walls up. Be vulnerable for once. Guys like that.”
My stomach clenches at the word. Vulnerable. The last time I was vulnerable with a man in a position of power over me, I ended up with a destroyed reputation and two years of underemployment.
But Kendrick wasn’t Nico.
How do I know that? How do I know Nico won’t turn around and use everything against me the moment things go wrong?
“I can’t, Sora. That’s too much. That’s asking me to just hand him a loaded gun and trust he won’t shoot.”
