Page 38

“Sit down.”

I turn and do as he’s commanded, feeling the first tear spill down my cheek. How did this go so wrong?

My knees press together, my chin dropping, as I hold the two sides of the shirt tightly in my fist right between my breasts.

“This was a mistake.”

I nod, like I agree. I do agree. I need this job for my brother’s sake and… My head snaps up. “Please tell me you won’t fire me over this.”

He grimaces and fear beats in my stomach, rolling like a thousand ominous drums. “I think we should talk on Monday. Get dressed and I’ll drive you home.”

And then he turns and strides from the room, the door closing behind him.

I make this choked cry I can’t seem to hold back because I’m pretty sure I’ve just ruined everything.

My body shakes as I push up off the bed and walk to the bathroom where my bag is tucked in the closet.

I can barely hold back my tears as I shrug off his shirt and pull my sweatshirt from the bag. My hands are trembling sobadly, I don’t even bother with a bra, I just pull the baggy fabric over my torso and then find my leggings, tugging them over the thigh-high stockings.

Picking up Triston’s shirt, I do manage to carefully fold it and lay it on the bed. But not before I give it a sniff, breathing in his rich cologne and the woody scent that is so uniquely his.

It makes me wince, a shudder running through me. I should have never given in like that. I just wanted him so badly…

A sob threatens to break through my throat, but I clamp my lips shut, not letting it out as I pick up his T-shirt and fold that too, laying it on top of the shirt.

“Ready?”

He stands in the doorway in a fitted T-shirt and jeans. I’ve never seen him look so casual and he looks amazing in a totally different way. Like I guy I could have just met in a coffee shop.

It makes my heart ache as I nod once and sling my bag over my shoulder.

He turns and starts down the stairs and I follow, scrambling to keep up with his long strides.

Moving helps me control the panic rising, but as he stops in his kitchen to grab his keys and I stop behind him, my chest grows so tight I can hardly breathe. “Triston.”

He looks back at me, his face completely unreadable. “We’ll talk on Monday, Honeyeh.”

I jerk my chin, attempting agreement but I think I might look like I’m having a seizure. I want to say thank you for the dress, which I left in a heap on the floor, or for the beautiful evening, but it’s all been ruined now.

I swallow down the raw lump in my throat and step into the garage with him, which holds like six cars.

He hits the button on an SUV, the lights of the car flashing and then he opens the passenger door, his hand on my elbow as he helps me inside.

His touch sears my skin, and I want to sink into him, throw myself at his feet, and beg him to touch me again.

I barely keep my control as I step up into the car and settle in the rich leather seat.

I haven’t stopped shaking as he closes the car door and comes around the driver’s seat.

The silence is deafening as he climbs in, opening the garage door and backing out of the garage.

I bite my lip to stay quiet. I want to cry. Plead. I’d twist myself into a pretzel if only he’d touch me again.

God, I’m pathetic.

How can I be responsible for another human being? I close my eyes, fighting back tears. “What else are you doing this weekend?”

I look at him then, my jaw falling open. We’re going to make stupid small talk. “Nothing. Studying.”