“Fourshots,” Jagger corrected. “I asked the bartender, right before I fired him.”
“What? Why would you do that?”
“Three men standing around one young woman like they’re waiting to pounce, and he’s letting them get her plastered?” He shook his head. “Not happening.”
“He wasn’tlettinganything. I’m an adult.”
Jagger put his hands on his hips. “There’s a back door at the end of the hall. We’ll go out that way so people from the office don’t see you like this.”
“See me like what? I’m fine now.”
Jagger’s eyes dropped to my shirt. I followed his line of sight and found vomit splatter—bright red, just like my cosmo. I shut my eyes. “I’m mortified.”
He put his hand on my shoulder. “Come on. Let’s get you out of here.”
CHAPTER 11
Sutton
I didn’t ask questions as we stepped into the elevator. Jagger slipped a keycard into the panel, and the door closed. I felt his eyes on me as we began to move.
“You feel okay?”
“My stomach, yes. My pride? Not so much.”
He smiled. “You’ll survive.”
The elevator car picked up speed. “Where are we going?”
“I live in the building. I’ll give you a shirt to change into.”
“Oh.” I nodded. “Thank you.”
Jagger Langston didn’t just livein the building. He occupied the entire top floor. My mouth dropped open as I walked into the marbled foyer. I wasn’t a stranger to nice New York City apartments. My mother and Edmund lived in a three bedroom off Central Park, but this—this was something else. Floor-to-ceiling glass lined one entire wall of the spacious living room. The New York skyline was so crisp and perfectly on display, it made me question whether there was actually a barrier.
“Wow. Your view is incredible.”
He held out a hand for me to walk first, and I went straight to the window, forgetting all about my puke-stained shirt.
Jagger came up behind me. “It’s all one piece of glass—twelve feet high by thirty-two feet long. The previous owner had all the individual windows removed—he didn’t want any panes or interruptions to the view. Sometimes when I stand here, I feel like a betta fish in a fishbowl.”
I snort-laughed. “Wouldn’t you be analphafish?”
Jagger raised a brow and smirked, shaking his head. “I’ll go get you that shirt.”
He came back to the living room with a pressed white dress shirt on a hanger in one hand and a T-shirt in the other. “This is the best I can do.”
I reached for the dress shirt. “Thank you.”
He pointed. “Bathroom is the first door on the left. Help yourself to whatever you need.”
The guest bathroom walls were covered in sumptuous textured wallpaper, deep brown with raised gold cherry blossoms that shimmered in the lighting. I was so caught up in the impressive space that I almost forgot the reason I was in it—at least until I got a load of myself in the mirror.
Oh my God.I leaned forward and cringed. Not only was there a giant splatter of red on my shirt, but my hair was a disheveled mess and mascara streaked down one of my cheeks. No wonder he’d whisked me out of the company event. I spent the next five minutes trying to clean up as best as I could. But I remained a train wreck, and I dreaded going back out there.
Then came a soft knock at the door.
“You okay?” Jagger asked.
