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“Thanks,” I manage, returning her smile, though it feels like my cheeks might crack from the effort.
Why is everything so painful this morning? And why the hell are my cheeks sore?
I giggle quietly, the absurdity of it all catching up with me.
God, how much did we drink last night?
As we approach James’s office, I catch Nathan’s eye, and he shoots me a look that says “what the hell are you laughing at?” But as soon as we step into James’s office, the laughter dies in my throat. He’s sitting behind a massive desk, and the air in the room feels like it’s dropped ten degrees.
James looks up from his screen, his eyes narrowing as he takes us in. The silence stretches on, thick and uncomfortable, and I can’t help but fidget. I smooth my hands over my pants, trying to ignore the way his gaze feels like it’s cutting right through me.
Finally he breaks the silence. “Do you think it’s appropriate to turn up to work intoxicated and disheveled?”
“No, sir,” we answer in unison, and the ridiculousness of it hits me again. I bite back a giggle, but it’s no use. Once the laughter starts, there’s no stopping it. Nathan and I are soon bent over, tears streaming down our faces.
James waits, his expression unreadable, as we try—and fail—to pull ourselves together. It feels like an eternity before our laughter finally dies down, leaving us both wiping at our eyes, trying to compose ourselves.
“Consider this your first warning,” he says coolly. “I’ll be notifying HR to issue your official written warnings today. Nathan, you’re excused. I need a word with Ms. Rossi.”
A small, satisfied smile lifts the corner of my mouth when I hear him say, “Ms.” One point to me.
Nathan gives me a sympathetic look, mouthingGood luckbefore hightailing it out of there, leaving me alone with Mr. Grumpy Pants.
The atmosphere in the room shifts the moment the door closes. James settles back in his chair, his thumb tracing his lower lip as he studies me in a way that makes my skin tingle. There’s a new intensity in his eyes.
“This is going to be easier than I thought,” he says, his tone almost mocking. “You’ve already earned yourself a warning, and it’s only your second day. Two more strikes, and you’re out. I have to say, I expected more of a challenge. Frankly, I’m disappointed.”
“Admittedly, this isn’t a great first impression,” I start, raising my hands in a gesture of surrender. His eyebrows arch in response. “Okay, second impression,” I amend, rolling my eyes.
Damn it, how could I have forgotten about taking his money?
“Don’t roll your eyes at me,” he snaps.
“Why, what are you going to do about it?” I retort before I can stop myself. Liquid courage must still be clouding my judgment, because the next words out of my mouth are nothing short of reckless. “Flip me over your knee and spank me?”
His eyes darken, and a slow, dangerous smile spreads across his face. “Careful, my sweet slut, you’re treading on dangerous territory.”
Hearing that name in this setting does things to me—wicked things I don’t want to admit. My body reacts to his words, my breath hitching as my nipples tighten to hard peaks. I hate how easily he can affect me.
James rises from his chair, his movements slow and deliberate as he rounds the desk. He stops in front of me, his hand lifting to cup my cheek, his thumb brushing lightly over my skin.
“Cora,” he murmurs, his voice softer now. “I’m assuming you’re still drunk and therefore not entirely in control of what you’re saying. So, let me make the situation clear for you. You have exactly one week to put together a strategy to improve company culture. If you don’t deliver, you’ll receive your second warning. Am I clear?”
His thumb continues to brush over my cheek, the gentleness of the gesture contrasting sharply with the threat he’s just laid down. The proximity of him, the warmth of his hand, makes it hard to think straight.
I nod, the motion stiff and jerky.
“Good.” His eyes hold mine for a moment longer, searching, before he steps back, the sudden absence of his touch leaving me cold. “Go home and come back tomorrow when you’ve sobered up.”
I pull away, hating how much I miss his touch the moment it’s gone. Without another word, I turn on my heel and head for the door, my shaky legs betraying me as I try to make a dignified exit. I can feel his eyes burning into my back, but I don’t dare turn around.
As soon as I’m out of his office, I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. My head is still swimming from both the booze and his touch, and it takes everything in me to walk steadily to my desk. I gather my purse, avoiding eye contact with anyone, and make a beeline for the exit.
Christ, we’re idiots.
I can’t believe Nathan and I thought we could pull off a day at work while still drunk. I groan inwardly at our stupidity, vowing to make better decisions from now on—especially where Mr. Sexy Grumpy Pants is concerned.
Stepping into the thick morning air, I fight back the rising bile. I need to get home and sleep this off, but more than that, I need to figure out how the hell I’m going to survive this job.