Bryn: Thank you again. For the drinks. And for the rescue. And for not making me feel like a weirdo.
Vivian stared at the words. They were so polite. So utterly at odds with the woman who had just commanded her to get on her knees. The dissonance made Vivian dizzy. She typed a response, deleted it, and typed again.
Vivian: You’re not a weirdo. You’re a business-person. Go to sleep.
Three dots appeared immediately.
Bryn: I can’t. I’m too wired, and someone got me a little drunk. Okay… all the way drunk. LOL. Maybe I’ll get drunk tomorrow and brave the awkwardness of running into Richard and Seraphina to attend Julius Thorne’s seminar on the micro-physics of breath.
Vivian let out a sound that was almost a laugh. Her muscles unclenched without her command.
Vivian: Thorne is a pompous windbag who thinks he’s the only asshole who knows how to breathe.
Bryn: Don’t judge me! I’m kind of geeking out, okay? You’re probably going to sleep in and order room service like a real famous person. But I really want to go. It’s just… ugh… I don’t know.
Vivian looked at the empty space beside her in the king-sized bed. It was vast. Cold. She imagined tomorrow morning. Waking up alone. Ordering coffee alone. Walking through the lobby alone, shields up, dodging gazes and deflecting questions and absolutely not attending any programming.
She considered a different scenario. Sitting next to Bryn in a stuffy conference room, listening to a windbag talk about breathing. Bryn’s knee bumping hers under the table. Rolling her eyes when Thorne got too pretentious, which would happen immediately. Bryn pulling out a bag of gummy bears or something just as ridiculous for a snack. Whispering to each other. Sitting too close.
The wanting that flared in her chest had nothing to do with friction or heat. She couldn’t find a single sober brain cell to take over her abysmal decision-making.Damn it.
Vivian: What time is the session?
Bryn: 9:00 AM. But don’t worry. You don’t have to go. I’ll brave the potential awkwardness to listen to a man who wears scarves indoors alone.
Vivian’s thumb hovered over the screen. She should say goodnight. Should stay out of the danger zone, not run headlong into it.Fuck.
Vivian: I’ll meet you in the lobby at 8:45. Bring coffee.
Bryn: Vivian, really. You don’t have to. I know this isn’t your thing. And it’s not like you have anything to learn about craft.
Vivian read the message twice. Bryn was giving her an out. Bryn was always giving her an out, always careful not to take too much, not to ask for more than Vivian was willing to give.
Vivian typed the truth before she could convince herself to lie. Before she could just turn the phone over and go to sleep.
Vivian: I know. I want to.
She hit send, dropped her phone onto the bed like she might take it back, and buried her face in her pillow.
I want to.
The words lingered in the dark room, loud and accusing. Vivian pulled the duvet up to her chin, curling into a ball. A dull, terrifying ache started at the dead center of her chest and spread out like nauseating tendrils.
Desire she could handle. She could starve it, or she could feed it in the dark until it went back to sleep. But this softness spreading through her chest? This quiet, insidious hope that made her look forward to something she should hate…
That was the thing that could destroy her. But she was so tired of fighting to survive.
ChapterTwenty-Two
The hangover wasn’t nearly asbad as Vivian expected. Lots of water and two tablets had chased away the dull ache at her temples by the time she stepped out of the shower. When she pulled on tight jeans and a soft ivory cashmere sweater—because conference rooms were always set to Siberian winter—she was feeling fine.
Better than fine. She had to make herself stop humming like an asshole while applying mascara. Twice.
She checked her watch before plugging in her curling iron again. For the third time, she touched up the waves she’d added to the tips of her long bob.
You look fine, Vivian shouted in her head while looking at her reflection.
She painted her lips red, rubbed them together, and called her reflection a liar.
