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Did I forget it at his place, just like my panties?
No. It must’ve been that meeting room.
I remember putting it down on the table, but I have zero recollection of picking it up.
Fuck it.
I jump to my feet. “I’m going to go to him.”
Ava wrinkles her nose. “You might want to make yourself look like a human first.”
“Right.” I drop our bowls into the sink. “I’m sorry you came all this way just to watch me leave.”
She grins. “Don’t worry about me. It might be fun to help you get ready.”
I rush into my closet and look for something to wear that screams “grand romantic gesture.”
It doesn’t take me long to pick out the perfect thing.
It’s my Halloween costume of many years in a row.
Donning the black vinyl, I return to the living room.
“What do you know?” Ava says, scanning me from head to toe. “Yet another rich guy into BDSM.”
I roll my eyes. “I’m supposed to be Trinity from The Matrix, and you know it.”
She grins. “Let me help you with makeup.”
“How about you do it on the way?”
She agrees, and I get her to order us an Uber.
While we wait for the car, I check my work email, just in case.
As I suspected, there are countless messages from Vlad, proving without a shadow of doubt that he didn’t ghost me.
You’re not answering your phone, one says. Can we talk?
Next one: I understand why you’re upset. Can you call me?
I scroll down to the fifteenth email.
Just found your work phone. Did you lose your personal one as well?
Before I read any more, Ava’s phone informs us that the driver is outside. We run out and jump into the car, where Ava makes me look borderline goth—a makeup style that works nicely with my dark hair and pale skin tone.
“Go get him,” she says when the car stops next to my work building. “You look amazeballs.”
“Thanks.” I jump out and put on my Matrix-inspired sunshades before rushing into the building.
Exiting the elevator on the Binary Birch floor, I bump right into a bunch of people with coffees in their hands. They’re exiting the other elevator.
Ugh. They’re from the dev team, and thanks to Murphy’s law, Britney is among them.
I suppress the urge to go for her throat. Murder is wrong, and downright dumb when you’re surrounded by so many witnesses.
Clearly unaware of the danger she’s in, Britney looks me over with an eye roll. “Is it time to test the nipple clamps already?”
