Chapter 28
Chapter Twenty-Eight
I smooth my hand over the new beige upholstery in Tyler’s truck on our way into work. Tyler has offered me rides before, but today I gave in. My car wouldn’t start. There weren’t many other options.
I’d gone by Cali and Jaeger’s the other night after I left Tyler—in my socks—and hung out until it grew late enough to sneak home and into my room. Tyler was at his dining table office. He looked up when I walked in and shook his head, as if I were a mystery he had no hope of figuring out.
“When did you get this done?” I point to the upholstery. The last time I was in his car, his seats were worn to the padding in some places.
His gaze flickers over. “A week or so ago. It was time. It wasn’t safe. You were cutting yourself every time you got in.”
I stare at the side of his head. He reupholstered his car for me?
While I’m still puzzling this through, we arrive at the casino parking garage.
Tyler sprints around the front of his car and closes the door behind me as I get out.
His hand goes to my lower back while we walk to the casino’s back entrance, and he opens the door for me.
Once inside, Tyler doesn’t touch me, but he remains close, as if we are together. Together, together.
I said I wanted to take things slow. Wanted to make sure we had a future before rushing into things, but Tyler is already treating me like his girlfriend. It should bother me.
It doesn’t.
I realized I was in trouble the other night, and my ability to keep him at arm’s length has steadily dropped lower and lower. The funny thing is, I don’t think he’s doing all this to seduce me, or to convince me of anything. I get the feeling that he’s simply not holding himself back anymore.
How does a girl keep to her convictions of going slow when a guy brings his A-game like this?
It’s the weekend of the music festival, and both Tyler and I arrived for a later shift in order to work through the evening.
We’ve hung out a bit these last couple of days, but I’ve also kept busy by visiting Becky and John, Cali and Jaeger, and Nessa.
I even swung by to watch more episodes of GoT with Zach—anything to keep things from going too far with Tyler, because I can feel the heat.
The longer we live together, hover over each other, the more my defenses break down. I want him. And now, with this business of reupholstering his car so that my arms won’t get scratched? He. Is. Killing. Me.
Tyler is still the boy who scared away my bullies in junior high, who made sure I passed algebra in high school, and who sees me like no other human being has before.
And now he’s a man, self-possessed and confident, and he’s showing me in every way possible that I’m important to him.
How much longer can I hold myself back? Or do I at all?
In the elevator to the executive floor, I look over and smile. If my smile is filled with love and every other feeling I’ve ever possessed for Tyler—well, that can’t be helped. It’s what he brings out in me.
A heated look fills his eyes, sending a spark through my belly.
The elevator doors open and I mumble something resembling “I’ll see you later,” as I take off toward my office, trying to stifle the lunatic grin on my face.
This tension cannot go on much longer. I will combust.
An hour passes, and I let out a heavy sigh at my desk, forcing my mind off Tyler for the millionth time in the last thirty minutes.
I run my finger down the schedule of events and the vendors linked to each.
A knock sounds at my office door. And by office, I mean closet, because my space has no windows and is barely large enough for a desk and chair.
But hey, it’s an enclosed area and it’s all mine, so I’m thrilled.
I glance up. “Hi, Hayden.”
Hayden’s been pulling fourteen-hour days these last couple of weeks. I’m not far behind her. We’re both looking drained, but Hayden seems particularly stressed.
“I have a huge favor to ask. Jessie from hospitality called in sick with appendicitis.”
“Jessie?” I say, my voice high-pitched. “As in, Jessie who is saving our asses by running hospitality with minimal help from me while we’re short-staffed? That Jessie?”
“Yeahhh.”
Oh, no. “What can I do?”
I mean, I’m booked for the night with human resources tasks, but this is an emergency. And I’m Hayden’s right-hand woman. I like the little team we’ve formed. It feels good to be a part of something outside of family and friends.
“We’ve got people coming in from all over, and every celeb has special requests. I need you to check the suites to make sure they’re stocked with the appropriate items. Gummy bears, Roberto Cavalli bath towels in zebra print, rubber duckies—”
“Whoa, seriously?”
She rolls her eyes. “Celebrities. What can you do? Jessie supposedly stocked everything before she left yesterday, but I want to make sure it’s all there. She wasn’t feeling well.”
“Sure, I’ll take care of it.” I calculate in my head the other items I have left to manage. It’s massive, but this is important to Hayden, so it’s important to me. “Should I leave now?”
“If you don’t mind? Here’s the list.” She hands me a ten-page document.
I blink, but hold it together. This list will take me hours. “I’m on it. Anything else?”
“No, but maybe just—be careful?”
I frown.
Hayden shifts her feet nervously. “Drake’s here.”
“What?”
“And there’s a weird energy among the executives tonight. It’s making me nervous.”
What the hell? I love my job, but sometimes this place sucks.
“Why did they allow Drake back?” From the rumors I’ve heard, the CEO is no longer confident of Drake’s innocence.
“No idea. My boss has been tight-lipped on the subject.”
“Okay,” I say, leery. “I’ll be careful.”
Hayden leaves, and I shoot out one last email before slipping on my heels from under my desk. I exit my closet/office—and stop in the hallway, the hospitality list and other paperwork clutched in my hands.
Male shouts filter down the hall, escalating with each word, as if whoever is yelling is also rapidly approaching.
Drake turns the corner, headed my way. “We had a deal, Joseph,” he yells behind him, pacing closer, papers hanging out the unzipped sides of his briefcase. “I sacrificed for you.” He stops as if to turn and go back the way he came. But then he catches sight of me.
Drake’s eyes narrow and he stalks forward.
“You’re next, Mira Frasier.” His face contorts red with rage.
“You think you’ve come up in the world? I know all about your past. You’re like me,” he snarls.
“Came from the dumps, didn’t you? That’s where you’ll end up.
They’ll throw you under the bus faster than they did me.
You’re a woman.” He grabs my arm. “They’re using you.
You have less power than any man in this place. You are nothing.”
I can’t move, can’t breathe. I shouldn’t listen to him, but for some reason his words hit home.
I didn’t get this job due to merit, and I’m ashamed of some of the things I’ve done to survive.
Pushing people away who didn’t deserve it, borrowing from bad men, lying to Lewis.
I thought my job at Blue was a step up. But now, with Drake highlighting where I came from—is he right?
Am I like that tree root in the woods reaching for the stars, tripping everything in its path, when where I really belong is back in the dirt?
The positive affirmations I’ve been silently chanting these past months flee my head. My mind is blank.
Tyler and another security guard barrel around the corner. Tyler’s gaze darts from me to Drake, his jaw clenching.
He lunges for Drake and wraps a thick arm around his neck. “Let her go, asshole.”
Tyler is taller, stronger. Drake grimaces and drops my arm, his briefcase clattering to the ground.
Tyler grabs his handcuffs and restrains Drake’s wrists, then shoves him at the other security guard, who’s even bigger than Tyler, bald, with a thick mustache that sticks out at the ends.
The other guard grabs Drake in what looks like a bruising grip, but Drake attempts to pull away, his eyes wild. “She’s next,” he yells, his body shaking as he tries to move toward me. “Mira and that bitch Hayden.”
Tyler steps in front of Drake and elbows him in the face, making blood spurt from his nose. Drake stumbles and lets out a piercing cry.
“Get him out of here,” Tyler yells.
The guard drags Drake to the end of the hallway, where two policemen round the corner.
Before the policemen can take hold, Drake twists his neck around until our eyes meet, his expression almost calm. “The rings, Mira. Look for the rings.” His face contorts into a disdainful, part-mad smile.
And with that cryptic message, he’s dragged away by the policemen.
Tyler waits until they’re out of sight, then turns and scans my body. “Did he hurt you?” He touches my arm, coming closer, blocking me with his body.
I don’t say anything, because the answer is nebulous. Did Drake hurt me physically? Not really. Psychologically? Yes. I’m fighting to negate his words. To positive-affirm the hell out of the stuff he filled my head with.
Tyler’s eyes flare at the expression on my face and he guides me into my office a few feet away, closing the door, despite the Blue employees watching us and the spectacle that just occurred.
“Mira?” Tyler touches my face, running his hands down my arms as if to check my pulse. He cups my cheeks gently. “Mira,” he says again. “Tell me you’re okay before I go back and fuck that guy up. I swear I’ll—”
“Fine,” I choke out. “I’m fine. He just—got to me.”