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I glare again.
But he just keeps on smiling. “Tonight,” he whispers, “you and me?—”
“Stop it.”
“I left something in your room,” he says. “Something I want you to wear for me.”
“What?”
He doesn’t answer. “At ten o’clock, you’ll put it on,” he says. “You’ll kneel on the floor by the door and you’ll wait for me.”
I pause. I swallow hard.
I fucking die.
“Oliver, that’s...”
“Yes, it is,” he says. “Is that your phone?”
“What?”
A ringtone pierces my ears. I didn’t even hear it ring the first time.
“Oh—!” I quickly retrieve it from my pocket and answer it. “Hey, Mom. Can you hold for a second?” I firmly cover the microphone without listening for a response. “That’s a scene out of the book,” I say to Oliver.
He nods. “Uh-huh.”
I exhale every molecule of air from my gut.
Oh.
Oh, dear.
Oliver winks. “Ten o’clock.” He takes a step back and pivots toward the desk. “Holly!” he greets. “How you doing? I’m Oliver...”
As he continues his introduction, I stand still, once again wondering how on earth he slips back into work mode so easily after casually rocking my fucking world.
I take a desperate breath. “Oh, boy,” I mutter.
“Paige? Are you there?”
I flinch, nearly forgetting about the call in progress. “Yeah, Mom,” I say into the phone. “I’m here. Are you okay?”
Oliver glances at me over his shoulder with a barely noticeable glint in his wicked eyes, but it still hits me with the force of a truck.
Oh, fuck me.
* * *
Ten o’clock comes slowly.
Oliver was the perfect boss after that. No naughty words. No hidden winks. Completely professional in every way.
Meanwhile, my heart was racing.
And it hasn’t quite stopped yet.
I pace the carpet of my suite, my toes digging in with each heavy step, as I stare at the garment bag hung on the back of my door. There’s a note attached to it, written on Botsford Plaza stationery.
