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Could Celine have done something?

Fuck, this is a nightmare.

I need to see Verity. I need to talk to her.

“Rafe, you head home. I’m going to wait.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I won’t be able to sleep till I see her.”

“Suit yourself. Don’t get arrested. I won’t bail you out.”

“Wow. Thanks.”

I sit down in one of the lobby chairs and prepare to wait for however long it will take.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

VERITY

Iam dead tired.

My feet are about to fall off, my throat is dry as hell, and my head is spinning. Don’t even get me started on my heart. That thing beating in my chest has been going haywire ever since Jenna dropped the bomb.

I still haven’t been able to fully process anything because I’ve had to keep my cool at the event. I cannot have a meltdown until I’m safely in my apartment where there is absolutely zero chance of anyone overhearing my groans of depression over the fact that I kissed my boss’s ex-husband.

My throat closes up with the feeling of nausea clogging the pipes.

Oh my God.

I kissed my boss’s ex.

How does shit like this even happen?

“Verity, are you ready?” Jenna taps my shoulder.

The event is winding down at the ripe hour of three in the morning. Event staff and Kelton employees are trickling in to clean up and disassemble while the few remaining attendees finish their last drinks and stumble out to the elevators. Celine and Davina left two hours ago, but Jenna, Anne, and I stayed around until the end.

I have no clue why, because even the man of the hour wasn’t present. True to Cullen’s words, I’d seen him dip off with a pretty model sometime around two.

Cullen.

“Verity?”

“Sorry. Yeah, I’m ready.”

I grip my clutch and follow Jenna and Anne into the elevator. Anne keeps going on and on about how excited she is about the deal with Frankie Jones. It seems the conversation they had with him ended on a positive note, and Celine wants us to circle back on it next week to discuss in our Monday meeting.

I chatted up a few people who had expressed interest, but there are no fish on my hook just yet. I am just throwing my bait into the water until something bites. If I don’t land something soon, I’ll either be stuck with Anne for this Frankie Jones project or helping Jenna for the foreseeable future.

I’m in such a zombielike mode that I almost hallucinate Cullen when I step out of the elevator.

He sits there in all his Calvin Klein model glory, with his suit that hugs his muscular body in all the right ways and hair styled with a sexy wave at the top. He’s even loosened his tie and undone the first two buttons of his shirt—and damn that does something to my ovaries.

His arms are crossed over his chest, and he is nodding off to sleep, by the look of it. The loud echoes of our heels on the marble tiles wake him up, and he startles, searching for the sound.

Our gazes clash, and his lips move, teeth biting his bottom lip as though he is about to call out my name.