Patrick’s hand shoots out, slamming the off button so hard the entire unit shifts.
“The entire hotel,” I breathe, my voice climbing toward hysteria. “The entire hotel just heard us.”
THIRTY-FIVE
Like you hung the moon
Patrick
“Oh my god, ohmy god, oh my god.” She scrambles upright, knee cracking against my desk hard enough to make me wince.
“Georgie, it’s okay.” I reach for her, but she’s already yanking her dress down with shaking hands.
“Okay?” Her voice hits a pitch that could break glass.
I’m still coming down from what just happened between us. My body feels heavy, sated. But she’s spiraling, and I need to fix this. Now.
“I’m going to be sick,” she says, pressing her hand to her mouth. “Actually physically sick. How long was it on? When did it turn on?”
“It can’t have been long.” The lie rolls off my tongue easily, even as my mind races through worst-case scenarios. “My staff would have cut the connection right away.”
I hope that’s true. My entire body is still humming from what we just did, but my brain’s catching up to the catastrophe. The fucking intercom.
“They heard me.” She’s gone pale. “They heard me making those sounds. Mary heard. The kitchen staff heard. Jake. Oh my god,Jake.”
I grab her shoulders gently, trying to ground her. “Hey, it’s okay.”
“Everyone knows,” she whispers, eyes wild. “Everyone knows about us. About what we just... oh my god.”
“Georgie, look at me.” I cup her face, forcing her to make eye contact. She’s trembling so much I can feel it in my palms. “It’s going to be fine.”
“Fine? Patrick, we just broadcast—” Her voice breaks completely.
“Listen to me.” I keep my voice steady, even though my own pulse is hammering. “No one will know it’s you. Half the women here tonight are English. Your reputation’s protected. And it wasn’t on long. It probably just caught us talking about Jake.”
“Jake.” Her face crumples. “I can never leave this room. I’ll have to live under your desk forever.”
Despite everything, my mouth twitches. Even mid-panic, she’s endearing.
“You’re not living under my desk.” I pull her against me, feeling her heart racing against my chest. “Though I wouldn’t mind keeping you there,” I add, attempting lightness.
She makes a sound between a laugh and a sob.
“Why do you even have a dumb intercom system? Who even uses intercoms anymore? Hotels have radios, mobile apps, Slack channels—literally anything but a button that broadcasts to the entire fucking building.” She shakes her head angrily. “It’s always old tech that comes back to bite me in the ass.”
“Listen, all people heard were two voices.” I stroke her back, trying to calm her down. “They won’t be able to figure out it’s you.”
“We joked about Jake walking in,” she whimpers against my chest.
I grimace, jaw tightening. Thank fuck she can’t see my face right now.
“Let’s find him,” I say. “Deal with this head-on.”
We step into the hall. Empty, thank Christ.
Then footsteps come heavy and fast.
Jake rounds the corner, and I see it all play out on his face in real time. Confusion, recognition, then pure rage. His eyes go from her disheveled dress to my wrinkled shirt to the way we’re standing too close. His fists clench.
