Chapter 18
Ruby
Ipower-walk to the bathroom like I’m trying to escape a crime scene I committed. Because honestly? I kind of did.
I shove the door open, stumble in, and lock myself into the first stall with the dramatic flair of an unhinged Victorian heroine.
I drop my bag. Sit on the toilet lid. Put my face in my hands.
And whisper:
“Oh… my GOD.”
My heartbeat hasn’t slowed since the moment he said Ruby… I believe this is yours and handed me my pen like it was a marriage certificate.
I can still feel the touch.
Just a brush. Barely anything. But my entire nervous system lit up like it was fireworks on Valentine’s Day.
I lean my head back against the metal divider.
“This can’t be happening,” I mumble.
Spoiler: it is.
I hear the bathroom door open, Ava’s voice.
“Ruby???”
Nope.
Nope nope nope.
I curl into myself like a guilty cat.
Ava knocks on my stall. “Open up, babe. It’s me.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
Sienna’s voice joins her. “We brought tissues.”
“No.”
Trey: “And lip gloss.”
“…what shade?”
“Yours,” Ava says triumphantly.
I crack the door open like a gremlin peeking out of a cave.
They pounce.
Ava pushes inside. Trey follows. Sienna squeezes in.
There are four of us in a bathroom stall. It smells like dry shampoo and crisis.
Ava grabs my face gently. “Listen to me. Breathe.”
“I CAN’T,” I whisper-shriek. “He is… he is… TOO MUCH.”
Trey fans me with a paper towel. “He is a walking orgasm in a suit. It’s okay to collapse.”
“I am NOT collapsing.”
“You’re crumpling at the edges,” Sienna says kindly. “Like a pastry left out overnight.”
“STOP COMPARING ME TO PASTRIES.”
Ava digs through my bag, pulls out my powder compact, and touches up under my eyes. “You’re shaking.”
“I’m always shaking around him!”
“Babe,” Trey says, crouching like a therapist who charges in compliments instead of dollars, “that’s because you want to climb him like a tree.”
I slap his arm. He inhales sharply. “Violence detected. Cute.”
Sienna takes my hands. “Okay, for real: why are you freaking out THIS much? Besides the obvious ‘horny in the workplace’ situation.”
I stare at them.
Then I say it.
“I think… I think he’s serious.”
They all freeze.
Ava blinks. “Serious like… serious-serious?”
“Yes.”
Trey gasps. “OH MY GOD. We’ve entered the ‘billionaire with emotions’ plotline. MY BODY IS NOT READY.”
I cover my face. “He said he listens when I talk.”
They squeal. All three. In stereo.
“And this morning,” I whisper, “in the elevator…”
I pause, dying inside.
“Yes???” Ava demands.
“He said next time he touches me, it won’t be accidental.”
The stall EXPLODES.
Trey collapses onto the toilet lid like he’s been shot by Cupid with a machine gun.
Sienna clutches her chest like she needs resuscitation.
Ava grabs my shoulders. “Ruby. BABY. You are in so much trouble and I am SO PROUD.”
I shake my head wildly. “I can’t do this. I can’t. I’m going to lose my job. I can’t be the girl who..."
“STOP,” Sienna says sharply. “You’re not losing your job.”
“She’s right,” Ava adds. “Do you seriously think he’d risk your job? This is a man who said ‘let me take the lead’ like it was a holy vow.”
Trey nods solemnly. “He would buy the company before he let you get in trouble.”
I groan. “That’s not comforting.”
“It should be,” Ava says. “It means he’s not playing.”
I bury my face in my hands again. “I need air.”
Ava pulls me to my feet. “You’re going to be fine.”
“No I’m not.”
“You are,” she promises. “Because if he wants you that bad? He’s not stopping.”
My stomach flips. Hard.
I unlock the stall door.
We step out into the empty bathroom.
I look at myself in the mirror. And for a split second, I see it:
The blush. The soft eyes. The pulse fluttering at my throat.
I look… wanted.
And that terrifies me more than anything else.
Ava smooths my hair. Sienna straightens my blouse. Trey re-applies my lipstick with surgical precision.
“There,” he says proudly. “Fresh meat.”
“A professional woman,” I correct.
“A professional woman who is being professionally pursued,” he counters.
I sigh.
Deep. Shaky. Hopeless.
“I need to go back to my desk,” I say.
“Ohhh no,” Ava drawls. “No you don’t.”
“What?” I frown.
“You seem to be forgetting,” Sienna says, grinning, “that he said he’s choosing someone today to work directly with him.”
My stomach bottom-outs.
“No,” I whisper. “He won’t.”
“Oh he will,” Trey says, linking arms with me like we’re marching into destiny.
“He will absolutely pick you.”
“And when he does?” Ava adds.
“We are buying champagne,” Sienna finishes.
“NO,” I cry as they drag me out the bathroom.
“YES,” they chant like a sexy cult.
I am doomed.