Chapter 31
CHAPTER 31
I am fighting a losing battle against my intrusive thoughts.
They have been stalking me all week, appearing whenever I want them the least.
Every groan from the wooden floorboards takes me back to that night, when the creaking of Taylor’s bed couldn’t drown out my moans.
All it takes is an errant sigh to pull me back into his arms, where his breath still tickles my ears.
I picture the shape of his sweat-soaked body, the shades of brown in his heavy-lidded eyes. Not a minute goes by without some kind of reminder of what Taylor and I did.
I’m on edge, off-kilter, and, unfortunately, almost ceaselessly aroused.
But the worst part is that Taylor appears perfectly fine.
He’s sitting as straight as he always does, his face blank as he responds to the Havens’ endless stream of emails. I haven’t caught him looking in my direction once. And I’m pretty sure I would notice, considering how often I glance his way.
When he clears his throat, I nearly fall out of my seat. I spin around so fast that he lets out a surprised little laugh.
At least my voice sounds normal when I ask, “Did you need something?”
He presses his lips together, flattening his grin. “Could you send me the return flights you booked? Victor’s asking for them.”
I deflate like a popped balloon. I’m not sure what I was expecting. For Taylor to turn around and confess I’m the only thing on his mind? Yes, actually. That’s exactly what I was hoping for.
“On it,” I mutter. Why should the Havens look through their own email inboxes when they pay perfectly good assistants to do it for them, right?
I click on the reservation I forwarded my bosses two days ago, scrolling through the hotel bookings to get to the return flight.
But there is no return flight.
My face starts to heat as I refresh the email, then refresh it again. I booked an extra four nights at the Bellview. I made lunch and dinner reservations at all their favorite spots. I planned a trip to a spa and the car service to and from their destinations…but I did not book a return flight home.
Because I got distracted reading Taylor’s script.
And then going into Taylor’s room.
Taylor, Taylor, Taylor…his name was the one constant last night. It echoed in my every thought.
It hits me: a revelation so cliché it actually makes me feel a bit sick. I failed to do my job because I was too busy thinking about a boy. The boy I’ve spent the last nine months competing with. Well, if luck goes his way, I’ll soon be out of the running.
A ringing sound fills my ears as I frantically flip between tabs, searching for flights out of New York for tomorrow night. There aren’t any. At least, not any that depart after the Havens’ three o’clock meeting with seats still available in first class.
My eyes begin to burn. There’s a strange tightening in my throat and I fear I’m moments from passing out…or worse, crying.
“Ayla?”
There’s concern in Taylor’s voice. I don’t know how he’s noticed something is amiss. I’m facing away from him, doing a remarkably good job not making a single sound. But, somehow, he’s spotted it—some tightening in my shoulders that means I’m seconds away from breaking down.
Three weeks ago, I would have done whatever I could to pull myself together and prevent him from seeing my moment of weakness. But I no longer have it in me.
“I messed up,” I whisper, my voice emerging as broken as I feel. “I really messed up.”
Taylor’s by my side in an instant, one of his hands going under my chin to turn my head. “Hey,” he murmurs. “Talk to me.”
I sniffle, stifling a sob. “I didn’t book it. I didn’t book the return flight.”
Taylor watches me intently, eyes trailing over my pinched face. To his credit, he doesn’t react when I admit my mistake. He nods again, pretending like I haven’t just broken the Havens’ cardinal rule. Don’t ever, under any circumstance, fail to do your job.
“Everything’s already booked?” he asks, looking unsurprised when I confirm the worst.
“I’m going to have to tell them.” The thought is so awful it’s beginning to make me feel physically ill. “I’ve never fucked up this bad before. Taylor, it’s over for me. Not just the Italy trip—I could lose everything over this.”
He doesn’t try to disagree with me. We both know how the Havens operate. Perfection is a bare minimum requirement. If they aren’t able to fly home tomorrow night, I may as well not come to work on Monday.
“We all make mistakes,” he murmurs softly. “We can figure something out.”
I don’t know if he turns me or if I make the decision myself. But I’m sinking into his chest, throwing my arms around his neck as he leans in. The soft fabric of his shirt muffles my cries as he strokes a hand up and down my back.
“I can’t afford to make mistakes,” I blubber. “I’ve wanted to be a writer my entire life. If the Havens blacklist me, it’s all over.”
He chuckles into my hair. “Baby, they won’t blacklist you over this. They’ll be pissed for sure. But I’ve never seen you mess up before. They’ve never seen you mess up before. It’s going to be okay.”
I pull away and he runs a finger beneath my eye, stealing a tear before it can roll down my cheek. He’s being so nice to me, acting like he genuinely cares.
“I don’t know what to do,” I whisper.
Taylor looks between my eyes, still stroking my back. When the tears finally stop falling, he dips his chin in a short nod.
“Give me one second.” And with a brief kiss pressed against my forehead, he leaves the room.
I watch him go, wishing he would have stayed. I felt safe when Taylor was by my side. Like my reality maybe wasn’t so bad after all. He’s taken my hope with him. All that’s left is a pounding in my head, and enough anxiety to make my hands tremble at my sides. I turn back to my computer, pulling up a page for every airline and booking service I can think of. I go through them one by one, steeling myself for the inevitable disappointment when they all say the same thing.
My email pings, dread constricting my throat as I open my inbox. My brows furrow at the subject line. Taylor has sent Adoria and Victor a new itinerary. I have only just clicked the email open when he reenters the room, his phone pressed to his ear.
“Thank you, I really appreciate all of your help. I know the Havens will be thrilled.”
I turn in my seat, one hand snaking over my mouth. He didn’t…he couldn’ t have…
Taylor hangs up and flashes me an earth-shattering grin. “We’re all set.”
I don’t remember standing up or flinging myself into his arms, but somehow our faces are inches apart when I ask, “How?”
“My sister is dating a pilot. He was able to pull some strings.” Taylor shrugs as I turn in a full circle, emitting some kind of warbled scream. “The Havens never have to know.”
“Thank you,” I grab both of his hands, pumping them in a weird kind of handshake. “Thank you. Seriously, Taylor. I don’t know what to say. How can I repay you for this?”
I don’t realize how that sounds until Taylor’s eyes darken. They drop to my lips, and there they stay.
I drift closer, my cheeks beginning to heat for a different reason. “How can I show you how thankful I am?” I ask again, voice quieter this time.
“I owed you a favor, remember?”
I feel like I recall him saying the words, but I can’t place when or why. It’s hard to think straight when he’s looking at me like I’m something to eat.
“I mean it, you saved my job. I’ll do anything.”
At last, Taylor’s eyes drop from my lips. They trail across my shoulders and over my chest. He examines the bare slope of my legs before conducting his examination all over again. When he looks back up at my face, his gaze has grown even darker.
I’m in a lacy tank top and an itty bitty matching skirt. I could lie and say I chose the outfit to escape some of the summer heat. The truth is that I was hoping for a moment like this one. One where Taylor gazed at me like he’d rather see my pretty silk ensemble scattered across his bedroom floor.
My implication is obvious when I sidle up to him, swinging an arm around the back of his neck. “I’ll pay you back however you want,” I say to his lips. “However long you want.”
Taylor’s hand comes up to grip my hip and I almost groan. My offer is entirely selfish. I know it. And I suspect he knows it, too.
And when he leans down, lips skimming over my jaw, I’m sure he’s going to admit he wants me just as bad.
He kisses my cheek, a centimeter from my lips. I start to turn my head, but he holds me still.
“I’m going to have you, Ayla,” he murmurs against the corner of my mouth. “But not as a favor. You’ll be the one thanking me by the time I’m through with you.”
He plants the lightest, most fleeting kiss upon my lips. And then he’s gone.
Leaving me with my heart in my throat, and a dampness growing between my thighs.