Chapter 11
LYRA
When I get back to my apartment, it’s the wrong side of midnight. Becca is on the couch, curled up in her favorite oversized hoodie, a half-eaten pint of cookie dough ice cream melting on the coffee table. The glow of the paused TV screen lights up her face, but her smile gives her away.
Her smirk deepens as I try to sneak past her to my room.
“Well, well, well, Ms. Taylor,” she says. “It’s way past your bedtime.”
I let out a slow breath and kick off my heels. My whole body aches in the best way, and my face is hot with the embarrassment of getting caught. I toss my clutch onto the counter and try not to look too giddy.
I laugh. “Don’t start. You have no room to talk.”
“Oh, I’m starting,” Becca says, sitting up straighter. “Because I know that walk of shame better than anyone.”
I roll my eyes, but I’m still smiling. “It’s not a walk of shame,” I protest. “It’s barely even tomorrow. Besides, he sent me home in a car.”
She pats the couch beside her. “Tell me everything.”
I hesitate for half a second. Part of me wants to keep this to myself. Tonight was so raw and intimate in a way I didn’t expect.
But this is Becca. We’ve been friends for most of my life. She’s as much of a sister to me as my actual sister, Maddie, without the awkward family obligation.
“Well,” I begin, sitting down on the sofa and tucking my legs under me. “He picked me up in a town car.”
“Of course he did,” she says, eyes wide.
“And then we had dinner at this restaurant he rented out. Just for the two of us. It had floor-to-ceiling windows, a skyline view, the whole shebang.”
Becca just stares in awe.
“You’re kidding!” she squeals. “That’s gotta be the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard in my life!”
“I know, right?” I grin. “Romantic and so very extravagant.”
“And?”
I bite back a grin. “And it was amazing. Ten out of ten, no notes, would highly recommend. The food, the view, the company. It was the perfect night!”
Her eyes narrow slightly. “And you were at the restaurant until after midnight?”
Heat floods my face, and I try desperately not to show it.
“Some things I’m allowed to keep to myself.”
“Fine, I get it,” she huffs, fake-offended. “No need to tell your closest friend in the whole world whether you swiped your v-card or not.”
I glance down at my lap and let out a quiet laugh. “Nobody’s said v-card since, like, 2010,” I murmur.
Becca lets out a low whistle and shakes her head. “Damn. You totally slept with him!”
I lean back into the cushions. The exhaustion is hitting me now, but the warmth in my chest hasn’t faded. It probably won’t for a while.
“He was really gentle with me,” I say, happiness swelling so full it might burst. “It didn’t even bother him that I was a virgin. He was so sweet about it.”
“I bet he was.” Becca laughs, then gets more serious. “But doesn’t it bother you? That he’s your boss?”
I shrug, but the movement feels heavy, like a stone settling in my chest.
“I don’t know,” I whisper. “Maybe it should. But it doesn’t.”
“It could get really messy really fast,” she warns. “I don’t mean to yuck your yum, but it’s giving a power imbalance. Like how old even is he?”
I glance at her. “He’s older,” I say vaguely.
She shoots me an annoyed look. “No shit, Sherlock. I’m looking for a number.”
“I don’t know exactly,” I say with a sigh. “Maybe mid-forties?”
“So, twice your age,” she says.
“I can do the math, Becca, and it’s not a big deal.”
Becca looks at me for a long moment, like she’s trying to figure out how deep into this I already am. I can’t tell if she’s truly worried or just surprised because this is all so far outside my norm. Maybe it’s a little of both.
I sit up a little. “Look, I get it. There’s definitely a big age difference, a power dynamic, and the whole taboo thing. It’s all a lot. I’m not blind.”
“Then why are you pretending none of it matters?”
“Because I can handle it,” I shoot back quickly. “I can keep work separate. I’m not going to throw away my job over one night.”
Becca’s brows draw together. “But what if it’s not just one night?”
I pause.
It’s a question I haven’t let myself ask. It doesn’t feel like one night at all. It feels like the beginning of something truly special. But how can I tell Becca that after I’ve just told her not to worry about me?
“I’ll deal with it if that happens,” I say quietly. “And that’s a big ‘if.’”
“And if it blows up in your face?”
I exhale through my nose and press my fingers to my temple. “Then I’ll clean up the mess and move forward.”
Becca doesn’t say anything for a moment. Then she leans back and pulls the blanket over her legs. “You’re kind of a badass, you know that?”
I glance over and find her smiling. “Thanks,” I say.
“For what?”
“For not judging me.”
“Oh, I’m definitely judging you,” she says with a smirk. “But who among us hasn’t done something crazy?”
“This doesn’t feel crazy,” I answer, refusing to meet her eyes.
“I hope it stays that way.”
Becca stretches, yawns, and nudges me with her foot. “We should probably get some sleep.”
“Probably.”
I push off the cushions and stand, the ache in my thighs a sharp, private reminder of what the night meant. As I move down the hallway, Becca calls out behind me.
“For what it’s worth, I’m always on team Lyra. Just be smart, okay?”
I stop in the doorway to my room and look back. “I’ll try.”
Then I step inside, close the door, and let myself sink into my sheets.
When I open my eyes again, the sun is high and dancing across my bedroom ceiling.
I reluctantly get up, shower, eat something, and decide I’m getting too old to pull all-nighters.
I’m planning what to do for the day when there’s a knock at the door.
I figure it’s just Becca and she’s forgotten her keys.
She texted me earlier that she’d gone out to pick up pastries and whatever overpriced coffee she thinks we deserve today. I’m padding around the kitchen in socks, sipping from a chipped mug, when the knock comes again, firmer this time.
I frown. It’s not Becca’s knock.
I walk slowly to the door, setting the mug down on the console table, and peer through the peephole. My stomach drops. It’s Rick from the office. How the hell does he know where I live?
I freeze for half a second. Then I take a breath, undo the lock, and open the door halfway, angling my body like a shield.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I ask sharply.
Rick smiles like this is some meet-cute we’ve been building toward. Like I haven’t rejected him twice already.
“Good morning to you too,” he says, glancing past me into my apartment.
“How did you get my address?”
He just shrugs, leaning against the doorframe like we’re friends and not two sentences away from me slamming the door in his face.
“I have my ways.”
I grip the door tighter.
“Well, unfortunately, you and your ways are not welcome here. I’m not interested in you, Rick. I wasn’t interested at work, and I’m definitely not interested in you here, at my home. You’ve essentially invaded it.”
His smirk tightens, his gaze flicking down my body in a way that makes my skin crawl. “Are you always this rude to people who show up just to say hi?”
“You didn’t come to say hi.”
He scoffs, the faux charm dropping. “Look,” he says. “I’ve been thinking. You and I got off on the wrong foot. You’re obviously smart and very attractive. I like that.”
I cross my arms. “That doesn’t do anything to change my opinion of you.”
“Is this because of him?”
My stomach clenches.
“I know you’re fucking the boss,” he adds, voice low and venomous. “Why not give me a try? Don’t pretend you’ve got some kind of moral compass now.”
My jaw tightens. “Leave. Now.”
“I’m just saying.” He shrugs, his voice slick with something that makes my skin tighten with rage. “If you’re handing out freebies, I might as well get in line.”
Becca’s voice slices through the hallway like a blade. “She’s already told you to get lost. I suggest you do that, asshole.”
Rick’s head jerks to the side, clearly surprised. Becca’s behind him, arms full of coffee cups and a paper bag, one brow arched.
Rick stiffens. His confidence cracks just slightly. His eyes dart back to me.
“Whatever,” he mutters, turning toward the stairs. “You’re not worth it anyway.”
“Oh honey,” Becca says sweetly. “Go back to your mom’s basement where you belong.”
He doesn’t reply, just stomps off down the hall like a kid who didn’t get picked for dodgeball.
I wait until the sound of his footsteps disappears completely before I close the door and double lock it.
Becca drops the coffee on the counter with a thud. “Okay, who the hell was that?”
“That’s Rick,” I murmur, dazed. “Remember, I told you about him after my first day. He just showed up here.”
She fixes me with an annoyed look. “And you opened the door? I thought I taught you better than that!”
“I saw it was him and thought I could just shut it down.”
She stares at me. “Lyra, the fact that he showed up at our apartment is straight-up harassment. You should have called the cops.”
“Yeah, probably.”
Becca’s already unwrapping pastries, pacing slightly.
“You need to tell your boss.”
“What?” I ask, staring at her in surprise.
“He needs to know Rick showed up here.”
“No, I’m not dragging him into this.”
Becca stares at me like I’ve lost my mind. “Lyra, that guy worked for him. That makes this his business whether you like it or not.”
“But it’s over,” I insist. “He’s gone. And telling Damien won’t undo the fact that Rick now knows where I live.”
“That’s exactly why you need to tell him.” She points at the door like Rick’s still standing there. “Guys like that don’t just go away. They linger. They escalate. And God knows they have the audacity.”
I exhale, rubbing a hand over my face. I feel nauseous. I can still hear his voice in my ears. “I don’t want Damien to think I can’t handle this.”
Becca softens a little, but not much. “Lyra. This isn’t about pride. It’s about protection. And I know you think you’re being strong by not calling him, but you need to make sure safe.”
I sit down slowly, letting her words settle into the pit of my stomach. The part of me that wants to act like this is no big deal is shrinking by the second. Because it is a big deal. The fact that Rick found me at all means a boundary has been obliterated.
“I’ll think about it,” I promise, because it’s all I can offer her.