“You arenotgetting into some random vehicle and letting some random man drive you away. If you won’t allow me to escort you home, let Stuart take you. I trust him. He’s a trained Army Ranger and he’ll ensure your safety.”
Seriously?
This was a little extreme.
“It’s a twenty-minute car ride. What could possibly happen to me?”
A shadow fell over his eyes, then a flash of something. Was it anger? Sadness?
He sent a text, then said to her, “Stuart will meet you at the end of the pier.” The bite in his voice caught her ear. He stepped onto the pier, extended his hand.
She’d insulted him. After chugging in a deep breath, she collected her shoes, then placed her hand in his and was lifted off his yacht.
She’d ruined her fairytale evening and she had no one to blame but herself. “The Omega is lovely and I enjoyed your company.”
He stayed silent.
“We come from very different worlds,” she continued. “This was a magical night, but I’ve got a pumpkin to catch. Your driver can take me home.”
“As you wish,” he replied, devoid of all emotion.
She’d had amazing sex with Luciano Santini, then she’d insulted him.
“Yeah, so I’m the dumbest woman on the planet. I get that.” She kissed his cheek. “You deserve better.”
“I don’t deserveanyone,” he replied.
In the nearby parking lot, Stuart flashed the car’s headlights.
“Goodnight, Simone.”
She melted from the sexy way he pronounced her name.
“Goodbye, Luciano.”
As she hurried toward the waiting car, she mumbled, “I’m too stupid to live.”
Yet, she was doing the right thing. She’d slept with her target, then had dinner with him on his yacht, and had sex with himagain. Those were grounds for termination. If Z had been her boss, and he’d found out, he would have let her go without a second thought.
But Z’s not your boss. Not anymore.
Stuart opened the back door and she got inside. Relived the privacy screen was still up, she leaned against the leather seat. As he pulled away, she glanced back down the pier, but Luciano’s yacht was too far down to see him.
Carrera Santini is my boss now, which is probably worse than having Z.Maybe I got myself fired anyway.
Normally composed, a shudder skirted through her.Did I overreact?She stared out the window as streetlights whizzed by. By the time they pulled up to her home, she concluded that the hookup was bad enough, joining him on his yacht was worse, the sex—while phenomenal—was a mistake—and she did the right thing by leaving.
Stuart opened the car door for her.
“Thank you for driving me home.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he replied.
At her front door, she punched in the entry code on the keypad. Her lock slid open and she disappeared inside, turned off her house alarm, and crumpled to the floor in her foyer.
A few seconds passed before she pulled out her phone. It was almost midnight. She texted her brother.
I did a stupid thing. Can you talk?
