“Just get me the info. I’ll take care of it.”
Chapter 18
Brielle
Fridaycomesaroundfasterthan I expect. I’ve been so busy at work these last few days that I barely have my head on straight.
Apparently, Damian—or Mr. Edgerton, I guess—told the marketing team to bring me in on the Vitales’ account. Which is great. Really great. I am having the best time working with Trent and Danielle.
I still have to prove myself to them though. I can tell they don’t understand why I’m there, but they’re still being super sweet about it. And they haven’t totally shut down any of my ideas. If anything, they’ve taken them and helped to workshop them into something better.
But I know I’ve left Rui and Erica to pick up my slack while I’ve been working with the marketing team. I don’t want to let them down, so I’ve been working extra hours every night to stay ahead of things. Taking today off as a vacation day is both a much-needed reprieve from the long hours and making me feel heavy with the guilt that I’m leaving not one, but two, teams stranded.
Knock, knock, knock.
The sound at the door steals my attention away from my guilty conscience. My heart beats a little faster as I race to the door. Hollyleft for work a while ago, so it’s just me in the apartment. I open the door and can immediately tell it’s Damian standing in front of me and not Mr. Edgerton.
He’s wearing those dark jeans again, paired with a charcoal-gray sweater. His dark hair is perfectly styled, and his midnight eyes flit over me quickly.
Everything about Damian gives off dark and dangerous vibes. But I’ve also seen him in borrowed, too-short coveralls, so that helps level the playing field a bit.
“Are you ready?” he asks. Even when he’s casual, he’s still Damian Edgerton. No greeting. No preamble.
“Good morning to you, too.” I smile brightly. He glares back, unamused. “Yes, let me just grab my bag.”
“I’ve got it.” He steps into the apartment, crowding my space. The rich, masculine scent of him floats by me, and my mouth waters. His hand lands on my hip, and I swallow quickly. My skin tingles under his touch as my mind tries to process what’s happening.
Damian backs me up a step, and I willingly go wherever he leads. His strong hand takes possession of my body, heat racing through my veins.
My lips part, my gaze locked on his.
And then he closes the door behind him and walks toward my bedroom, while I stand there with my pulse throbbing down to my toes and my mind a jumbled mess of want and confusion. He knew exactly what he was doing to me when he put his hand on my body. He could have just asked me to let him in, but no. He had to send fire through my blood just because he could. He really can be such a dick sometimes.
Damian takes my bag, and I follow him down the three flights of stairs. His back muscles aren’t visible under the fabric of his sweater, but I know they’re there. I know just how they feel under my fingers.
We get in the car, and I’m surprised to find the music on when he starts it up. It’s an old alternative band from the ’90s. One of those songs that you know every word to but couldn’t name the band if your life depended on it.
Damian deftly maneuvers onto the highway during Boston’s morning rush hour. With his sunglasses on and the relaxed air of confidence that he carries, he looks like one of the mafia bosses from my romance novels. I’m too busy staring at him to notice until I see the sign for Logan Airport pass us by.
“Hey, you missed the exit,” I tell him.
“We’re not going to Logan.”
“Um, you might not be, but I am. That’s where my flight leaves from.”
“We have a different flight.”
“Damian, you can’t just change my flight on me. I have my sister picking me up at a certain time. What’s the new flight information? I’ll text her what time to be there.”
“Tell her you’re all set. You won’t need a ride.”
“Damian,” I warn. That authoritative air can be sexy as hell, but it can also be super annoying when he decides to change up my plans without discussing them with me first.
“Brielle,” he mocks back. When he sees me staring at him, my arms crossed over my chest, he just laughs. Laughs! “I got a rental car. I didn’t think it was a big deal. We’re going to be there for three days. That’s a long time to be stuck without transportation.”
“How do you know I didn’t already have one booked? You didn’t even ask,” I complain.
“I asked you for your travel arrangements. It wasn’t included in the details you sent me, and I know how organized you are. If you had scheduled a rental, you would have included it. Tell your sister that you don’t need her to pick us up at the airport. Besides, we’re not flying into Denver anyway.”
