Page 50 of Level With Me
All I could do was apologize. “I’m sorry. I behaved like a total shit.”
“In front of new clients.” She still didn’t look at me, just scribbled something on her notepad.
“Yes, that.” I stood up and began pacing the room. I fucked up, it was true. But I wasn’t going to eat shit all morning, either. It hadn’t been a normal situation.
“But Lila, nothing about this job has been like our normal work so far, has it? This family—,” The door was ajar, so I lowered my voice. “This family has its own issues, and had no real qualms about showing them on Saturday. Eli needed a buddy. Plus, you know you can count on your hand the number of times I’ve gone overboard like that, right? Hell, it’s not even a full hand.”
Lila looked directly at me for the first time. I wasn’t going to bring up the last time it had happened. That had been fifteen years ago. But she remembered.
She lowered her pen, seeming to soften just a little. “You’re right. It’s not exactly a pattern. But that’s what makes this worrying in its own right. I don’t know what’s going on with you, Blake, but I’m a little worried, okay? First you insisted we take this job out here—you convinced me it was the best thing to do for our business. Then, when I’m finally onside, you asked me if I ever thought of quitting. And that’s after whatever the hell went down with you and the flipping CEO when you were out fishing!”
I was standing by the window now. It was a gorgeous view from here. The same one I’d woken up to on Sunday morning.
“Then—”
“Then I get drunk with the CFO.”And God knows what else.I turned to look at her. “This has been a messed-up start, I know that. And I apologize. But I’m not going to back out on you, okay?”
I wasn’t sure if I was talking about the project, our business, the fake marriage, or both. My head started throbbing again.
“I’m going to get a coffee before my meeting with Cassandra,” I said.
I suddenly couldn’t get far enough away. I still had twenty minutes before the meeting.
“Brynn was getting us some—”
“I need some air,” I said, my voice hard.
For the hundredth time since Sunday, I wracked my brain trying to remember something—anything—about Saturday night. When I’d woken up in the hotel room, I’d still been half-drunk, though it was quickly transforming into a monstrous hangover. At first I’d thought it was Eli who’d gotten me the room. Then I’d seen the envelope. I’d opened it with shaking hands, already knowing what it was. I didn’t know in what state I’d find it, though. Torn up? Scrawled on with a note that I was an asshole or a pig?
But Cassandra had signed it—every page. I hadn’t been fired.
Of course, that wouldn’t make much business sense—the contract was essentially a gift to the Rolling Hills with how I’d laid it all out. She’d be screwing herself if she turned it down.
But I was also naked in a hotel room, with my clothes draped neatly over the bathtub.
Every time I thought about what might have happened—all the options—I felt sick. Had I made a fool of myself? Did I hit on her? Had Isleptwith her?
The only thing I’d landed on was I couldn’t let it just sit there, nebulous and unknown. And I wasn’t going to wait around for Cassandra to tell me.
I was going to ask her, point blank.
Then I’d deal with the consequences.
At five to nine, I was back upstairs, this time in front of the doors to the executive offices, my briefcase in one hand and two Americanos in a holder in the other, my pockets stuffed with creamers and sugar as I had no idea what she took in her coffee.
Cassandra’s door was ajar when I reached it. Her face was tipped down, and for a moment I didn’t say anything, just watched the way she tucked a wave of her hair behind her ear as she read whatever document was in front of her.
“Morning,” I said.
When she looked up, I nearly swayed on my feet. She was wearing reading glasses, which were perched halfway down her nose like a sexy librarian.
Good God, she was gorgeous. My idiot brain went right there, sending an electric message straight down to my dick, which twitched as if it had some business doing that.
Did it remember something I didn’t?
“Good morning,” she said to me. She looked slightly stiff, nervous maybe. But not like she wanted to kill me. Point one Harrington.
“Come in.” She said nothing as I stepped inside and settled down in one of the seats across from her desk. My mind flew in all directions as I took in her lips, pink and pressed together. Had I known those? Her hands, laced together—had those been on me?
