Chapter 5
Bailey
Iwake up, heart racing before I’m fully conscious.
The ceiling fan spins lazy circles above me. My apartment is quiet except for the refrigerator's hum and the distant sound of a siren.
But my mind is screaming.
I cannot forget Daniel’s face when he saw me yesterday. The shock that rippled through his entire body and the way color had drained from his skin before that mask of control snapped into place.
Trevor’s words replay in my head. You haven’t met my sister, Bailey.
The word ‘sister’ being the emphasis.
I press my palms against my eyes.
This can’t be real. This can’t be my actual life.
Except it is.
The man I had a one-night stand with is my boss. My boss is my brother’s best friend. And now I have to pretend none of it ever happened while working forty feet away from him five days a week.
Perfect.
Just perfect.
My phone buzzes on the nightstand. I grab it, squinting at the screen.
Gretchen: Coffee. Now. I need details about this mystery sex bar guy.
I groan. Gretchen has a sixth sense for disaster. She probably smelled the chaos radiating off me through the phone.
Me: Luna’s in thirty?
Gretchen: Make it twenty. I’m dying here.
I drag myself out of bed, shower on autopilot, and throw on jeans and a sweater. My reflection in the mirror shows dark circles under my eyes and a tension in my jaw I can’t seem to release.
Yesterday keeps replaying on a loop.
Daniel’s handshake was too formal for my liking. Nothing in his touch suggested he’d had those same hands all over me a week ago. I hated the distance he maintained, never standing too close or letting our eyes meet for more than a second.
Most of all, I hated how conscious I felt in his presence. Suddenly, my makeup was too light, I'd picked the wrong dress, and I probably shouldn't be laughing too loudly and stuffing pies in my face.
The feeling lingers, so I grab my keys and head out before I can spiral further.
***
Luna’s Coffee is packed with the Sunday brunch crowd. Gretchen has already claimed our usual corner table and is waiting with two lattes. She takes one look at my face and her eyes go wide.
“Oh my God. Spill. Now.”
I sink into the chair across from her. “Remember the bar guy?”
“Sex stranger? How could I forget? It's the wildest thing you've ever done. I need to know if it was worth it.”
“He’s my boss.”
Gretchen’s mouth falls open. “What?”
“The new job. Williams Ventures. Daniel Williams is the CEO.” I take a long sip of coffee, burning my tongue. “I walked into his office Monday morning and nearly had a heart attack.”
“Holy shit.” She leans forward, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Did he recognize you?”
“Immediately.”
“And?”
“And nothing. He pretended we’d never met, called me Ms. Rodgers, critiqued my work, and was a complete asshole.”
“But you slept with him.”
“I’m aware.”
“Like, recently slept with him.”
“Also aware.”
Gretchen sits back, processing. And then a slow smile spreads across her face. “This is insane. This is a romance novel. This is—”
“Shut up. It's a nightmare.”
“Or the best thing that’s ever happened to you.”
I give her a look. She grins wider.
“Come on, Bay. Hot billionaire boss you’ve already seen naked? That’s every fantasy—”
“It gets worse.”
Her grin falters. “How does it get worse?”
I take another drink to fortify myself. “He’s Trevor’s best friend.”
The silence that follows is deafening.
Gretchen’s coffee cup freezes halfway to her mouth. She sets it down carefully, never breaking eye contact.
“Run that by me again.”
“Daniel Williams. My boss. The guy from the bar. He’s Trevor’s best friend from college. The one Trevor is always talking about. The one who saved his life or whatever.”
“The mysterious bestie?”
“That’s the one.”
“Oh my God.” Gretchen’s voice climbs an octave. “Bailey. Oh my God.”
“I know.”
“You slept with your brother’s best friend.”
“I know.”
“Your brother’s best friend, who is also your boss.”
“I’m painfully aware.”
And then she starts laughing, not a polite chuckle but a full-body laugh that has other customers turning to look.
“This isn’t funny,” I hiss.
“It’s hilarious. It’s a disaster, but it’s hilarious.” She wipes her eyes. “How did you find out?”
“Trevor’s family reunion yesterday. Daniel showed up. We saw each other across the lawn and both nearly died.” The memory makes my stomach clench. “Trevor introduced us. I thought Daniel was going to pass out.”
“What did you do?”
“We shook hands and made small talk. I pretended I didn’t know what he looks like without his clothes on.” I run my hands through my hair. “It was awful, Gretch.”
“Did Trevor notice anything weird?”
“I don’t think so. We were both really good at pretending.”
Gretchen shakes her head slowly. “This is next level. Like, I can’t even process this level of complicated.”
“Tell me about it.”
“So what are you going to do?”
“Nothing. I'll keep my head down, do my job, and pretend Friday night never happened.”
“That’s your plan? Pretend?”
“You have a better one?”
She considers. “You could tell Trevor.”
“Absolutely not.”
“He’d understand—”
“He’d kill Daniel. Then he’d kill me. Then he’d bring us both back to life and kill us again.” I lean forward. “Trevor can’t know. Ever.”
“So you’re just going to work with this guy every day? See him in meetings? Pretend he didn't make you scream—”
“Yes.” I cut her off before she could finish that sentence. “That’s exactly what I’m going to do.”
Gretchen studies me over the rim of her coffee cup. “You’re still attracted to him.”
It’s not a question.
“That’s irrelevant.”
“That’s a yes.”
I don’t answer. Can’t answer. Because she’s right.
Yesterday, standing in my parents’ backyard, I felt it, the pull, the awareness humming under my skin every time Daniel moved, every time he spoke, every time Trevor said his name, and I had to force myself not to react.
It should be easier after seeing him in that context. He is my brother’s friend, and he is off limits.
Instead, it’s made everything worse.
“Bay.” Gretchen’s voice is gentle now. “You can’t help who you’re attracted to.”
“I can help what I do about it.”
“Which is nothing.”
“Which is nothing,” I confirm.
She sighs. “For what it’s worth, you’re doing the right thing. Trevor would lose his mind. And workplace relationships are messy even when they’re not with your brother’s best friend slash your boss.”
“Thank you.”
“But—”
“There’s always a but.”
“But you’re allowed to feel things.”
My throat tightens unexpectedly. “It was supposed to be one night.”
“I know.”
“One night to forget about Derek. One night to feel wanted. One night and then move on.”
“Life doesn’t work that way.”
“Apparently not.”
We sit in silence for a moment. The coffee shop noise washes over us from the conversations to the espresso machine's hiss. I envy the normal people living everyday lives, where they haven't accidentally slept with their boss, who is also their brother’s best friend.
“At least the sex was good,” Gretchen offers.
Despite everything, I laugh. “That makes it worse.”
“How?”
“Because now I know. I know what he feels like, how he tastes. How he—” I stop, heat flooding my face. “I know things I can’t unknow. And I have to see him daily and pretend I don’t.”
“That’s torture.”
“That’s my life now.”
Gretchen reaches across the table, squeezing my hand. “You’ll get through this. You’re strong. You’re professional. You can absolutely handle working with a hot guy you slept with once.”
“He called my work adequate.”
“What?”
“First day. He reviewed my portfolio, called it adequate, and said my creative choices were unnecessary.”
Gretchen’s eyes narrow. “What a dick.”
“I argued with him and nearly got fired on day one.”
“Did you?”
“Yeah. But he actually used my original design for the client presentation.” I can’t help the small smile. “Sent me an email that said ‘well done.’”
“So he’s not a complete dick.”
“Just a partial dick.”
“A complicated dick.”
“The most complicated dick I’ve ever encountered.”
We both dissolve into slightly hysterical laughter. When we finally calm down, Gretchen signals for more coffee.
“Okay. Real talk. Can you actually do this? Can you work with him and keep things professional?”
I think about it. Really think about it.
Daniel is just as committed to pretending as I am. Maybe more so.
“I think so. We’re both adults. We both have a lot to lose if this gets out. Neither of us wants drama.”
“And the attraction?”
I shrug. “I’ll deal with it. I'll channel it into work and prove I’m more than adequate.”
“That’s my girl.” Gretchen grins. “Turn sexual tension into career advancement.”
“Exactly.”
My phone buzzes in my pocket. Trevor is probably calling to debrief about the reunion. Or it’ll be Mom asking why I left early.
I pull it out to silence it, but the name on the screen stops my heart.
Daniel Williams: Come to my office on Monday morning please. Important.
I stare at the message. Read it twice. Three times.
“What?” Gretchen leans over. Sees the screen. “Oh.”
“He’s texting me.”
“I can see that.”
“About work.”
“Probably.”
“Definitely.” I set the phone down. “It’s work-related. It has to be.”
“Right. Obviously.”
But my pulse is racing and my hands are shaking slightly.
One text. Nine words. And I’m a mess.
“You’re blushing.”
“I’m not.”
“You absolutely are. Your neck is doing that thing.”
I press my hand to my throat. It’s warm. “Shut up.”
“This is bad, Bay.”
“I know.”
“You’re really not over this.”
“I know.”
“One text from him and you’re—”
“I know!” I grab my coffee cup, draining the last of it. “I know, okay? I know this is a disaster. I know I should be able to handle this. I know it’s just a work meeting and it doesn’t mean anything.”
Gretchen observes me. “But?”
“But nothing. There’s no but. I’m going to his office on Monday morning. We’ll discuss whatever work thing he needs to discuss. And then I’ll return to my desk and do my job.”
“And ignore the fact that you want to jump him.”
“And ignore the fact that I want to jump him,” I agree.
She raises her coffee cup. “To compartmentalization.”
“To compartmentalization.”
We clink cups.
My phone screen is still lit on the table between us, and Daniel’s message glows accusingly.
He’s off limits. The worst possible person I could be attracted to. But I still feel his hands on my skin when I close my eyes. Monday morning suddenly feels very far away.
And much too close.
Later that evening, when I’m on my couch in pajamas, laptop balanced on my knees, pretending to work on a personal project. I realize I'm just staring at Daniel’s text.
I haven’t responded. I don't know how to respond.
‘Okay’ seems too casual. ‘Yes, Mr. Williams’ seems too formal. ‘Stop texting me because it makes my heart race’ is inappropriate.
I type out a response. Delete it. Type another. Delete that too.
Finally, I settle on: ‘See you then’ and hit send before I can overthink it further.
Three dots appear immediately. He’s typing.
My pulse kicks up. Ridiculous. This is ridiculous.
The dots disappear. No response comes.
I wait five minutes. Ten. Nothing.
I set my phone face down on the couch cushion and force myself to focus on my laptop.
But concentration is impossible.
All I can think about is Monday morning. Walking into his office and being alone with him again.
My phone buzzes.
I grab it too fast.
Trevor: Thanks for coming yesterday. Mom loved seeing you. Daniel liked you.
My stomach flips.
Daniel talked about me. To Trevor.
I force my fingers to type normally. Glad I could make it. Your friend seems nice.
Trevor: He’s an asshole, but he's the best one.
Me: Lol.
Trevor: I’d do anything for the bastard. He knows that.
Me: He’s lucky to have you.
Trevor: We’re lucky to have each other. Anyway, get some sleep. You looked tired yesterday.
Me: Ew, alright “Dad”. G’night.
I set my phone down again, leaning back against the couch. I can never tell my brother what happened. Not only would he be mad, but it would destroy their friendship. I can’t be the reason that happens.
Turning off the lights, I close my laptop and go to bed even though sleep feels like an impossible feat right now. But eventually, exhaustion wins.
I dream of dark eyes, rough hands, and a deep voice whispering my name in the darkness.
When I wake up on Monday morning, my first thought is him.
My second thought: I’m not ready to face him again.
My third thought, unbidden and unwanted: I can’t wait.