43. Lorelei
43
LORELEI
Boss: Where’s my goodnight photo?
M y stomach knots up as disbelief rushes through me.
He hasn’t said a word all day. If I didn’t realize my mistake at lunch, I’d have no reason to believe he even knew.
Of course, I know that he knows because of those two taunting blue ticks beneath the photo.
How many times has he looked at it?
As much as I tried to convince myself that he was disgusted and deleted it the second he opened it, I knew deep down that he wasn’t.
And now I know…
Not only that, he’s demanding more.
What the actual fuck am I meant to reply to that message?
I can hardly do as he’s requesting and send my boss another dirty picture.
Can I?
No. I absolutely cannot.
But what if he sends one in return…
Fucking hell, Lorelei.
Closing the message, I climb out of bed and pad through to the kitchen in the hope that in the time it takes to grab a bottle of water, inspiration will hit.
But predictably, when I crawl back into bed with a drink I neither want nor need, I’m still as clueless about how to navigate this situation as I was before.
I could ignore him. But does that make me look weak?
Lori: I apologize for my previous message. My mistake. Please delete and never think or talk about it again.
I read my words over and over again, my thumb hovering over the send button.
Does it still make me look weak.
Should I be apologizing?
Sure, it was an accident. But something tells me that he’s not annoyed about my drunken mistake.
Deciding against it, I delete it all and change tact.
Lori: Unfortunately, that’s the only one you’re going to get from me. Enjoy.
I immediately feel better about my response and hit send without second-guessing this time.
He reads it instantly. An image emerges in my head of him sitting in bed just like me, staring down at his cell…at my photo.
Heat unfurls in my lower belly.
Don’t think about it, Lorelei.
Do not think about it…
Boss: Trust me, I have enjoyed it.
Boss: Many times.
I gasp, my hand covering my mouth as I stare at his confession.
I look around the room, shocked to my very core that he’d admit that.
What do I do now?
Sure, I’m no stranger to a little sexting. But with my boss? That’s certainly a first.
I think of Clive, the boss that needs to never take up any brain space ever again, and I shudder.
Maybe things could have been worse than him accusing me of stealing. Imagine his dick pic. I shudder again. I might need to throw some ice-cold water on this situation, but that shit isn’t necessary.
Kian drags me from my disgusting musings when his dots begin bouncing.
Boss: Could really use some new inspiration…
“Fucking hell.” I laugh. Brazen much?
Lori: Goodnight, Boss.
I lower my cell to the bed, proud of myself for not being dragged in. It would be easy, too freaking easy, to fall under Kian Callahan’s spell…again.
It helps knowing that I’m not going to see him for a couple of days.
He’s got a stupidly early flight tomorrow. I should know. I booked it.
A wicked smirk spreads across my lips as I remember the moment I selected the worst possible flight time just to piss him off. Fucker deserves it for being an ass.
Boss: Lorelei…
My skin prickles as I hear his deep warning voice as if it’s growled in my ear.
Lori: I’m sure you have plenty of girls willing to send you naughty pics. Message one of them. I’m not interested. You have an early start tomorrow. I suggest you get some sleep.
Boss: I’m not the one who has an issue with their punctuality.
Lori: Goodnight, Kian. Sleep well.
I should turn my cell off, but the temptation of knowing if he’s replied again is too much to ignore.
But he doesn’t, and I drift off feeling disappointed instead of celebrating that I got the final word in.
B ang. Bang. Bang.
“What the fuck?” I gasp, sitting upright in bed, my eyes wide and my heart pounding.
A cold sweat covers my skin as I wait for something else.
But there’s nothing. Not for a few seconds, anyway.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
Recognizing the sound this time, I throw the sheets off and get to my feet, confident that someone isn’t robbing the place.
Ripping my bedroom door open, I march through the hallway toward the irritating noise.
I stretch up on my toes and peer through the peephole to discover which asshole thinks it’ll be funny to wake me before dawn.
“Of fucking course,” I mutter when I find an impatient man glaring back at me.
“Open the fucking door, Lorelei,” he demands, fully aware that I’m on the other side. Fuck knows how.
“Motherfucker.”
Pulling my sleep bonnet from my head, I let my curls fall around my shoulders before I unlock the door and pull it open.
“What?” I snap with my hands on my hips and my best resting bitch face in place.
He doesn’t dignify my question with an answer. Instead, he barges past me and storms into my apartment like he owns it.
“What the hell, Callahan?” I demand as he continues toward my bedroom.
I rush behind him, continuing to glare as he looks around as if he’s expecting to find something.
“What?” I snap again.
“There’s no suitcase. You’re not packed,” he states, spinning around to pin me with a weighted look of his own.
“Why would I need to pack?”
“You’re not…” He scrubs his hand down his face in disbelief. As he does so, his dark eyes drop from mine and he finally acknowledges what I’m wearing—or not, as the case may be.
My skin burns despite the thin layer of cotton stopping him from seeing me in all my glory. Not that it matters, he’s already seen everything already. My nipples harden as he makes his way back up. There’s no way he doesn’t notice, but he keeps his expression neutral.
It’s not until his eyes meet mine that I see any kind of reaction.
They’re molten.
Desire hits me like a freight train.
But like him, I refuse to let my true feelings be known, and I cross my arms under my breasts, effectively pushing them up and stealing his attention again.
“We-we’re going on a trip, remember?”
I smirk, loving that I’ve made this always-in-control man trip over his words.
“No. You’re going on a trip.”
He narrows his eyes.
“No. We are. I asked you to book a business trip.”
“And I did. Your flight leaves in…” I glance at the clock. “Whoa, an hour and a half. You really should go.”
“You’re my assistant, Lorelei. You come on business trips with me.”
I shrug. “Not this time, hot shot.”
“Fuck’s sake,” he mutters before spinning around and pulling my closet open.
“What are you?—”
“Where is your suitcase?”
“Kian, I’m not?—”
“This trip requires both of us, so I suggest you wake the fuck up and get packing. Our flight is leaving in an hour and a half,” he says, mocking me.
“Your flight. I only booked one seat.”
“Then I suggest you get on the phone, because I’m not flying alone.”
I watch in horror as he selects a handful of outfits from my closet and throws them onto the bed.
He isn’t joking, is he?
“Suitcase, Lorelei. Then call the airline. Where is your?—”
“Kian,” I shriek when he successfully locates my underwear drawer without my help. “There is something fucking wrong with you,” I mutter as I attempt to push him away.
He’s bigger and heavier than me, and he doesn’t so much as sway when I shove at his shoulder.
Reaching into the drawer, he pulls out a red lace G-string and holds it up.
He studies it for a beat before turning to me and letting his eyes trail down my body.
“Do you have the matching bra?”
“My suitcase is in the closet in the hallway,” I tell him, submitting to the fact I’m going on a trip with this infuriating man.
He looks down at my open drawer again with a pout in his lips before he backs away, leaving me to deal with my underwear choices.
“I’m trusting you to select the right ones,” he warns.
“My underwear, my choice,” I snap as he goes in search of my suitcase.
By the time he returns, I have everything laid out on my bed. All I need are my toiletries.
“Thank you,” I mutter insincerely as he places it on the bed. “I need to get ready. Wait for me in the living room?”
For a moment, I don’t think he’s going to agree and instead insist on staying to watch. But after a few seconds, he finally walks out again.
“Why did I agree to this job exactly?” I ask myself.
“I heard that,” he calls, amusement laced through his tone.
D espite Kian’s insistence that he should get priority due to the amount of money his family and the company spend on flying every year, I fail to get through to the airline on our journey to the airport.
As we walk toward the check-in desk, we’re at risk of missing the flight I had originally booked for him.
“Good morning,” Kian says curtly to the man standing at the entrance to the first class and business line. “Kian Callahan. We’re flying to Charleston.”
“Callahan?” he asks, tapping his screen.
“Yes,” Kian sighs in exasperation.
I get it. It’s too early for this shit.
“I’m sorry, we don’t have you flying first or business with us today.”
Kian instantly turns to look at me.
“Oh, whoops,” I say innocently. “I think I booked you an economy seat.”
His face morphs into one of pure frustration, and I find it hard not to smirk in response.
Don’t mess with me, asshole .
I raise a brow.
He never demanded that I book him a first-class seat, just like he didn’t tell me to book two. What’s a girl to do?
Kian turns his glare back to the airline assistant, who, unlike me, withers under his intense stare. “I am an Executive Platinum member. There’s been a mistake. I need to book two first-class seats on the flight to Charleston this morning.”
The man practically trips over himself before suggesting that we follow him to the desk.
Much to Kian’s irritation, we can’t get on our original flight unless we accept economy seats. Obviously, I didn’t have an issue with that. I’ve only ever flown economy and probably always will. But that isn’t good enough for Kian Callahan, so we have no choice but to hang around the airport for a few hours to catch the next flight.
“Let’s go,” he barks once we’ve got our boarding passes.
His hand grabs mine and I’m all but dragged toward security, which we fly through because of his fancy members’ card.
“Sit,” he demands once we’ve been welcomed into the first-class lounge at Chicago O’Hare.
“Could you please be more demanding? I just love it so much,” I deadpan, trying not to look awed by my surroundings.
He stills and glares down at me.
A shiver rips down my spine, but it’s not fear. It’s something very, very different.
His dark, angry eyes bore into mine, and my temperature soars.
I’ve always known that I’m a little fucked up when it comes to men. It’s why I keep falling for the wrong ones and getting my heart broken. But this really takes the cake.
I should be scared, but I’m not in the slightest.
His nostrils flare, and his eyes widen. “You booked me in economy.”
I smile up at him, refusing to be intimidated.
“Just wait until you see your hotel room.”