Chapter 57
fifty-seven
It takes me all of twenty blocks to regret everything.
Me? Juliet Rivera? Running scared ?
Absolutely not .
By the time I make it to my usual subway station on the corner of 53rd and Lexington, I realize I don’t want to get on the train and flee back to Queens.
I want ? —
I need ? —
Graham.
But I can’t just go back, can I? I mean, despite the dread unfurling in my middle, I did leave for a reason . Several reasons, in fact.
I also have no idea how to apologize after walking out like that and no way to make it up to him.
Being on the street doesn’t help. Everywhere I look, there are Valentine’s displays. Most of them are red, like Graham’s handkerchief. Or pink, like that insane suit he looks so perfect in.
Mierda . Am I crying on Lexington Avenue?
The phone wedged in my fist vibrates, alerting me to a text. My heart leaps, thinking it will be him…
But instead, it’s Dominic.
Carter
How soon can you be here?
I pause next to a particularly loud window display full of giant paper hearts. A quick burst of anger blasts through me, but it feels good. More familiar than the heartbreak bleeding behind my breast, anyway.
He doesn’t wait for me to answer before making another demand.
I told you to consider yourself on call.
This contract must be completed today.
Are you near the office and available, as instructed?
He’s such a jackass—I feel a smug flicker of amusement recalling the way Graham destroyed me over his desk.
I start to walk, naturally turning toward Stryker the one that would cost my primo his job for turning the cameras off.
My eyes dart to the black bulb fixed to the ceiling outside Dominic’s glass office wall. Watching this—a moment he’s so carefully crafted to look completely innocent.
Just a junior attorney reviewing whatever her boss is pointing to on his screen. The screen that conveniently faces a window and none of the cameras.
My stomach gives a sickening clench as I stagger back. Malicious amusement fills Dominic’s features. He sits forward and warns, “Careful now. No reactions for the camera to record. I’m sure you don’t want Mr. Stryker wondering what all the fuss is about.”
He nods back at the monitor, where— God help me —Graham has bent even closer to the lens, his face buried against my neck while he drives into me so hard, the video shakes with every thrust.
“Although,” Dominic adds, faking thoughtfulness. “Maybe you wouldn’t mind Mr. Stryker seeing.”
I whip my head to face him. A flare of victory fills his eyes. “And in that case,” he adds, “I suppose you wouldn’t mind me posting it online either.”
Fuck this smart, sick bastard. He knows every news outlet in the city is rabid for content surrounding the Strykers and their friends. A video like this—of Grayson’s best friend fucking one of his employees at work —would go viral instantly.
If that happens, it won’t just be that Marco and I lose our jobs.
Graham will lose Grayson.
Even if I somehow convince Dominic not to post it… the second Mr. Stryker sees us flagrantly flying in the face of all his rules and all the warnings he gave his best friend…
Their friendship will be over.
Along with Graham’s career.
And mine .
I feel myself inhaling—my chest rising and falling too fast—but my face is numb. I lock my features into an unreadable mask, the security camera’s stare burning against my profile.
“What do you want?”
I’m afraid I already know. And it makes me sick—the thought of Dominic touching me. The thought of anyone other than the one man I want.
But what’s worse—letting this sick asshole have what he’s clearly wanted all along?
Or letting him ruin Graham?