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Don’t justify your mistakes!
“What if I wasn’t . . . hypothetically . . .”
I suck in a breath, waiting for his answer. I wait and I wait, and I want to ask the question again. I want to know his answer.
I’mdyingto know.
His thumb skirts my bottom lip, pulling it down, over and over, until my mind turns blank.
“Hypothetically... I would fuck you so hard against this wall, the entire floor would hear us.”
I’m drowning, drowning, drowning.
I need to come up for air.
My fingers are practically shaking by the time they reach his face. It’s spectacular. Carved immaculately. My hands are experimenting around his neck when he swallows deeply.
“We can’t . . . Ineed you. . . to keep working for me.”
I nod, knowing he’s right. Despite the butterflies he gives me, despite how every cell in my body is convincing my mind, my heart, to take the plunge and go for it. Go for him.
I know that I can’t and I won’t. I’d never be able to forgive myself.
I’d hate myself.
“Is this your way of telling me I’m a good assistant?” Myhead cocks to the side, and I’m teasing, lightening up the mood. The twitch of his lips sends shivers down my spine.
That’s Dreygon’s way of smiling.
He ignores my comment completely, his hand reaching for my neck. Suddenly he’s serious and I have a feeling he’s about to say something important.
“I don’t know what you have... withhim.” He looks away, pensive. When he looks back, he’s almost pleading. “I’m not worth it... I don’t fuck and stay. You’ll never get the white picket fence and the two-point-five kids with me. So you shouldn’t do this to him.”
My gut twists with guilt at his words—at his reminder of my loyalty to Harvey. But my neck? It’s warm, spreading the heat all around me.
That’s when I notice the pain written all over his eyes.
He’s been hurt too. Deeply.
I imagine at twenty-nine years old, it’s almost predictable.
“I’m serious, Gemma.” His fingers squeeze around my neck, gently. “Don’t forget.”
I move away from the wall, away from him, because it’s too much.
God, what am I thinking? What am I even doing with another man in my hotel room past midnight?
Why did he have to be the one to remind me not to screw over Harvey?
“I’ll send your food to your door when they come,” I whisper, grateful for his decent warning. Not many men would’ve bothered. Many would’ve taken whatever I had to offer and left after they’d broken all that they could.
He nods. “Be at my door at nine a.m. sharp.” And with that, he’s gone. I lock the door behind him, waiting for my food while I sit cross-legged on the bed. When my salad comes, I eat despite having lost my appetite.
Dread fills my insides, and I don’t know why. Maybe it’shope? Damon gave me false hope for something that was never going to happen, something I’d never even allow no matter how much I wanted it deep down.
And now it’s gone.
I knock on Damon’s door at nine o’clock on the dot. We head downstairs, where the event is being held all day in one of the ballrooms. There’s already a buzzing crowd running around everywhere, a technical team, assistants making sure everything is ready for the guest speakers.
