“Funny. I just saw Anthony leaving a few minutes ago.” Her lips curl up. “Strange, isn’t it? The two of you at the same hotel.”
“We were working in one of the meeting rooms.” The lie comes so easily it’s like I practiced. I’ve been sitting on it for days on the off chance I ran into anyone, but it’s harder when it’s her. She knows the schedules and is veryobservant. “I’m heading out to lunch.”
“Of course. Lunch.” Her smile sharpens on the pause, letting the silence stretch for just a second too long. “Just be careful, April.”
I look at her in confusion. “Of what, exactly?”
Karen leans in, dropping her voice just enough to sound like she’s a friend doing me a favor. “People love to talk. Especially when a young woman finds herself climbing the ladder in…well, unusual ways. Reputations are fragile.”
Angry heat flares in my throat. “I got my position through merit,” I bite out. “I didn’t ask for your concern.”
She shrugs and takes a step back as if this conversation is entirely casual. “No, I suppose you didn’t.”
I don’t linger or wait for whatever she has up her sleeve. I know enough about Karen Bartley to know to keep my distance. And that’s exactly what I do: create distance. A lot of it.
With shaking hands, I pull my phone from my pocket when I reach the sidewalk.
Me:
Problem. We’ve been caught.
Karen was in the lobby. She saw both of us.
Anthony Voss:
Have I ever mentioned how much I hate her?
Me:
Everyday
Anthony Voss:
We’ll just move things to the penthouse. Cleaner exit routes, less chance of being spotted.
He says it like this is a scheduling conflict, like this is just logistics. As though I’m not standing outside a five-star hotel lobby with my insides knotted and my boss’s cum probably still inside of me.
Me:
You mean your place??
Anthony Voss:
Yes.
There are no emojis or reassurance. No, "Don’t worry, April, it’ll be fine. "Justyes. As if it’s obvious, and this is the next logical step.
I close the message and start walking back toward the office. I need the illusion of normalcy before my brain short-circuits.
Chapter 14
Anthony
Ihaven’t invited a woman into my home in six years. Not since the crash. Not since the press. Not since I stood at the edge of the penthouse terrace with a glass of whisky and a chest full of rage while reporters plastered the literal wreckage of my marriage on every financial, fashion, and big-name blog and tabloid. And nowshe’scoming here.
I tell myself it’s because the hotel is no longer secure. Karen ruined it and the game has changed. The hotel is compromised, and the risk of being seen is too high. This is simple logistics, not sentiment. It has to be.
I dismiss my chef for the evening and tell him I’ll handle dinner myself. He raises an eyebrow and gives me a barely concealed smirk, but he leaves without comment. I appreciate that. The staff know better than to hang around when I don’t want them too.
