Chapter 10
Aria
Igroan before I even open my eyes.
My head is pounding, my mouth is as dry as the desert, and I can feel my stomach starting its protest of last night’s activities. I sling one arm over my eyes and slowly turn away from the light source before freezing.
This is not my hotel room.
I slowly feel around with my other arm, letting out a relieved breath when I confirm there is no one else in the bed with me. I lower my arm and slowly open my eyes, wincing as the sun attempts to give me an icepick lobotomy.
Finally, I get my eyes to cooperate and I lean up on my elbows, taking in the room around me.
I am in what appears to be a cozy guest bedroom.
The walls are a warm beige accented with white and a faded, light blue.
There’s not a lot of furniture, but a soft-looking armchair on the other side of the nightstand and a chest of drawers opposite the bed give the room a finished, functional, but comfortable feeling.
Comfortable, but completely unfamiliar.
Before I can work myself into a panic, there’s a knock on the bedroom door and I hear Lucy’s voice on the other side.
“Aria?” Her voice is soft and concerned. “Are you awake?”
“Yeah,” I call back, wincing at the dry, hoarse tone of my voice. “Come in.”
She opens the door slowly and walks inside with a little wooden tray.
I brace myself for the scent of breakfast foods, but as she walks closer, I spy a breakfast sandwich contained within plastic packaging, a little cup of yogurt with a spoon, a glass of orange juice, a few bottles of water, and a variety of painkillers.
I bring my eyes back up to hers, seeing a sheepish look dawn on her features.
“I, ah, didn’t know what kind you preferred,” she laughs self-deprecatingly and walks further in to set the tray on the nightstand where I also see my phone sitting innocently, charging away.
“Thank you,” I say genuinely. “But, why…how did I end up here?” If anything, her cheeks darken further as she angles the armchair towards the bed and sits forward. I feel my own blush rise as the position highlights the cleavage peeking out the top of her light pink tank top.
“What do you remember from last night?” she asks, cutting through my inappropriate thoughts. I lay back flat on the bed and close my eyes, the world spinning as I try to remember the night before.
***
I was dining on some pizza in my hotel room when I got the phone call. I recognized my boss’s number, so I answered it, despite it being after hours and the weekend.
“Hello, Aria speaking,” I greeted, curious as to why he was calling me.
“Ms. Cunningham,” my supervising attorney, Liam Edwards, returned, his tone serious. “I am calling regarding some serious allegations we have received regarding your relationship with Mr. Beaumont.”
“What sort of allegations?” I asked cautiously. “Our relationship was disclosed to HR and he has never been my direct supervisor.”
“Yes, we are aware,” came his stiff reply. “However, evidence has come to light that you used your relationship with Mr. Beaumont to collect sensitive client information for your own personal gain.”
“What?” I shot straight to my feet and started pacing, “I have only ever accessed client information within the context of collecting information to support them and their attorneys for the purpose of strengthening their cases. I never accessed any information for my own gain, much less anything that would be deemed sensitive!” I finished vehemently.
“Ms…Aria,” Mr. Edwards’ voice seemed weary. “You know your work has always been impeccable and you have been an indispensable asset for me personally.” He paused. “I spent today behind closed doors with the other partners at the firm and unfortunately the evidence is simply too great—”
“What evidence?” I interrupted, fed up with being accused of something I didn’t do.
“There is evidence that Mr. Beaumont’s laptop was used to access files pertaining to the case we took involving MacBride Enterprises.”
MacBride Enterprises. Where my sister works.
“Mr. Edwards,” I began, “I recused myself from that case and was assured that it would not cause any issues in the long run.”
“That was before Jacob’s laptop was used to access the files—”
“So he accessed the files!”
“—while he was logged as physically in the office. You were out sick and his claim is that you were the only one who would’ve had access to his laptop at all.
Look, Aria, I believe you. You’re not the type to lie about something like this.
However, the fact is that his laptop’s GPS placed it at his home while he was at the office and you were the only one who had access. ”
“Wait,” I said, thinking and pacing, “What day was this?”
“This was about a month and a half ago, on the 17th.”
“Okay, yes,” I said slowly, “I was out sick that day, but I was not in the house. Jac – Mr. Beaumont and I terminated our relationship approximately two weeks before that occurred. I have proof that I have been staying at the Orchard Suites since before that date.” I let out a slight breath of relief and sat back down, feeling my heart racing.
“Ms. Cunningham,” he replied, the apologetic tone to his voice raising my hackles again.
“Mr. Beaumont provided evidence that you were in his house at the time the files were accessed via his video doorbell. He was not, evidenced by the office access logs. And, unfortunately, the recent end of your relationship provides you a motive for wanting to besmirch his reputation. I’m sorry, Aria.
Even if this is something that he fabricated…
to be frank, he covered his ass with the evidence.
There is nothing we can do but terminate you immediately. ”
“No…” The word had barely any breath behind it, but Mr. Edwards sighed when he heard it anyway.
“Again, I’m sorry, Aria. Like I said, I have been talking with the other partners all day trying to come to another solution.
Ethics training, etc.” he added wryly and I breathed a small laugh with him.
“But, they were out for blood and claimed it was a deliberate and malicious breach. I couldn’t convince them otherwise. I’m sorry.”
“Thank you,” I said, the shock, anger, and disbelief giving way to a frozen, numbing calm. “The fact that you fought for me means more than anything. Thank you, sir.”
“I am no longer your supervisor,” he snorted. “I think you can call me Liam.”
“Thank you, then, Liam.”
“You are brilliant and worth the fight, Aria. Don’t ever forget that.”
***
“I lost my job,” I murmur, coming back to the present. “My boss called me and fired me. And then I went to drink myself into a stupor. Did I call you?” My face scrunches up as I try to connect me getting drunk to ending up in Lucy’s guest room.
“Ha, kind of,” Lucy snorts, then shows me the text I sent her. I groan in embarrassment and turn away from her, hiding my face in the pillow.
“I am so sorry.” My reply comes out muffled. “I am not normally like this.”
“You are fine! You were pretty adorable last night,” she chuckles, and I burrow further into the pillow. “I called you then made the decision to come and pick you up. You did tell me I looked like a princess when I got to the bar, though.”
My heart rate picks up and I can tell that my entire body goes still, even as I beg myself not to react.
“Oh, did I?” I try to brush it off in a casual manner, though I feel anything but.
Princess.
Late at night, when I needed a release, I would reach between my legs and touch myself to thoughts of Lucy.
Kissing her lips, then trailing down her body to taste her pussy.
Hearing her gasps, feeling her hands twist into my hair, pulling me away, pulling me closer.
Then feeling her muscles start to tense up, hearing her beg for release, until I look up at her with a smirk.
“Come for me, Princess.”
“What –” I clear my throat to dispel the hoarseness that wasn’t there before and finally look at her again, “What else did I say to you?”
Lucy looks at me curiously, but slowly responds, “Not a whole lot. You told the bartender…well, how we met, and that I was ‘really pretty’.”
“Well, I presume she had eyes, so she really didn’t need me to tell her that,” I say slowly, noting the fact that she rolls her eyes and refocuses on the breakfast tray.
“Uh huh. Well, anyway, I didn’t know how nauseated you’d feel, so I didn’t want to bring in something that smelled super strong.
Is there anything else you need?” She speaks quickly, standing and running her hands down the shorts she’s wearing; my eye catches the glimpse of a tattoo peeking out the bottom of them. Something floral and delicate…
Her smothered laugh brings my eyes back up to hers. I feel myself flush and I smile sheepishly. She shakes her head and points to the tray again. I try to remember what she asked and she doesn’t hold back her giggles this time.
“Do you need anything else?” she repeats, amusement shining in her honey brown eyes. I hesitate and search her face, but decide to let her take care of me, if she wants to.
“It might sound a little weird, but do you happen to have some extra salt?” I say slowly.
To her credit, she doesn’t say anything, simply leaves to grab the salt shaker.
When she hands it to me, I take a deep breath, then start pouring it into the orange juice.
I focus, carefully keeping my gaze on my task as I use the spoon on the tray to stir it up.
Finally, as I pick up the glass, I chance a look at Lucy, preparing myself for a look of disgust.
But that’s not what I find. Instead, her expression is just as open as it was before. Her curiosity is evident, but there is absolutely no judgment there. I can tell that, even if I don’t explain, her opinion of me won’t change.
I glance away and sip my salty orange juice, feeling tears prick my eyes. Although Jacob was vocally supportive, I saw the looks he gave me when I had a flare or when I did things like this to prevent them. Maybe…
“What? Never seen anyone put salt in their juice?” I try to joke, though I hear the tone fall flat with my nerves.
“Cherry, I run a coffee shop. I have seen stranger things,” she fires back.
“Cherry?” I ask curiously, kind of liking the nickname. She stammers and blushes, trying to retract it, but I interrupt her. “No, I like it. I was just curious to know where that came from.” She clears her throat then levels me with a look.
“I’ll tell you if you tell me why you seemed so nervous about drinking your salty juice in front of me,” she offers.
I take a deep breath and nod. “That’s fair, I suppose,” I say wryly, gathering my thoughts.
But honestly, my brain hasn’t woken up enough to beat around the bush, so I decide to just be direct.
“I have a condition called POTS, which stands for Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome. It’s a dysfunction of my autonomic nervous system.
There’s a lot of symptoms, but the main one is when I change positions my brain sends the wrong signals.
This triggers my heart rate to jump up and stay up, causing me to get dizzy or pass out occasionally.
“One thing that helps is increased sodium, hence the salty juice.” I let out a humorless laugh.
“But, I drank a lot last night, which could trigger a bad flare, so I just wanted to do what I could to mitigate that.” I shrug as I finish, watching Lucy take in all this information; the look of concentration on her face is one of the cutest things I have ever seen.
She starts to say something, then stop herself, so I nod encouragingly at her.
“Okay, so, I would love to know more, but for right now, what do I need to know to help out if your flare does get bad?”
I blink, stunned. That is not what I was expecting, but a deeper warmth spreads through my chest and I know I’m in trouble.
“Uh, right,” I stutter, trying to get ahold of myself.
“Well, I will probably go back to sleep for a while. But, the best things for me are usually extra salt, rest, and hydration.” I pause again, but find the bravery to let myself be vulnerable in front of her.
“I may be a little…out of it. Brain fog is a bitch, so I might be a bit confused or slow to understand and respond.” Before I can help it, I continue, “But, really, I don’t mind going back to my place.
I really appreciate all of this, but I don’t want to be—”
“If the next words out of your mouth are going to be ‘a burden’, let’s not.” Her stern look cuts me off just as much as her words. I take a breath to argue, but she raises an eyebrow and I just nod helplessly.
“Good girl.”
I inhale as heat flashes through my body at the praise. I take another large swig of my orange juice to settle myself.
That was…unexpected.
“But, anyway, thank you for trusting me with that. I really appreciate the fact that you told me and that you’re letting me help, even if I didn’t give you much of a choice.” Her voice cuts sharply through my arousal, and it seems like she didn’t notice the effect her words had on me.
Thank god, that would’ve been embarrassing.