And he, in turn, lapped it up. He was confident, telling stories that painted him as a powerful and indispensable figure at the foundation. But I could feel the undercurrent. Every compliment he gave felt like he was testing my boundaries. Every time he refilled my wine glass, it felt like he was trying to lower my defenses. Men are so predictable, I thought, watching him over the rim of my glass.
After dinner, he insisted on taking me home. “It’s late,” he’d said, his hand already on the small of my back. “A gentleman has to see a lady home safely.”
My internal alarm bells were screaming, but my new strategy demanded I play along. “That’s very gallant of you,” I murmured.
The moment we reached the stoop of my building, out of the main street’s light, the game changed.
“I had a really great time tonight, Beth,” he said, stepping into my space, backing me against the front door.
“I did too,” I said, keeping my voice light, even as my heart started to hammer against my ribs.
“I think we have a real connection,” he continued, his hand coming up to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. His fingers lingered on my neck. “A chemistry that goes beyond just… professional.”
He leaned in to kiss me. I turned my head at the last second, so his lips landed on my cheek. “Garrett,” I said, trying to keep a playful tone. “We shouldn’t. Work, you know.”
His smile didn’t falter, but his eyes turned hard. “No one’s here. And your boyfriend is a thousand miles away.” He was much stronger than me, his body pressing me firmly against the door. His other hand found my hip, his thumb rubbing possessively. The flirtation was gone, replaced by a raw, demanding pressure. “I’ve been very patient, Beth. I got you the gala position. I think I deserve a little… gratitude.”
Fear, cold and sharp, cut through my strategic calm. This was escalating too fast. I had miscalculated. My hands came up to press against his chest. “Garrett, stop.”
“Come on,” he whispered, his mouth moving towards my neck. “Don’t pretend you don’t want this.”
Just as a genuine panic began to set in, the door against my back creaked open.
“Everything vibing out here, cosmic sister?”
Ziggy stood there in a silk dragon-print robe, holding a bag of what smelled suspiciously like organic kale. His gaze flickered from Garrett’s hand on my hip to my wide, panicked eyes.
Garrett sprang back from me as if he’d been electrocuted, instantly composing himself. “Just seeing my colleague home,” he said smoothly to Ziggy.
Ziggy’s friendly, spaced-out smile didn’t change, but his eyes were suddenly sharp behind his round glasses. “Lookslike you saw her all the way to the door. Excellent work. Her aura was looking a little… compressed. I’ll take it from here.”
The message, however bizarrely phrased, was crystal clear. Garrett’s charm evaporated, replaced by a flash of pure fury before he masked it. He turned back to me, his voice a low, apologetic murmur. “Beth, I am so sorry. I completely misread the signals. The wine… you were just being so charming all night… I got carried away. It won’t happen again, I promise.”
It was a brilliant recovery. He was blaming the alcohol, blaming my own flirtatious behavior, making me question if I had led him on.
Before I could respond, he was already backing down the steps. “I’ll email you the gala briefing tomorrow!” he called, before turning and disappearing into the night.
I stood there, shaking, as Ziggy calmly assessed me. “That dude’s chi is all kinds of jacked up,” he said, shaking his head. “You want some chamomile tea? I just brewed a fresh pot.”
I managed a shaky laugh. “Thanks, Ziggy. I think I’ll be okay.”
Back in my apartment, I leaned against the door, my heart still racing. He hadn’t been playing a game; he’d been hunting. But his quick apology, his plausible excuses… he was good. He’d left me feeling confused, doubting my own perception. Did I come on too strong? Did I send the wrong signals? It was exactly this kind of thinking that made me realize I couldn’t report him. Who would believe me? The charming development officer, or the “wild child” with a history, who had been seen flirting with him all night?
I had, however, gotten one thing. He had promised me the gala position. A small, hollow victory.
Later, in bed, I saw two missed calls from Sean. Guilt washed over me, cold and heavy. I’d spent the evening playinga dangerous, flirtatious game with another man, even if it was a strategy. The purity of what I felt with Sean felt tainted by the grime of what I’d just had to do to survive Garrett. I couldn’t tell him. Not about the dinner, not about what happened at the door. If he asked, I’d just say the meeting went fine. It was an ugly part, I wanted to keep far away from him.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
SEAN
I droppedinto the leather booth, my body finally registering just how exhausted I was after a full day of presentations. The Philadelphia conference was going well, better than well, but all I could think about was how much I’d rather be in a tiny Brooklyn apartment with a certain redhead.
“Earth to McCrae,” Danny said, sliding a whisky across the polished wood table. “You’ve got that look again.”
“What look?” I asked, though I knew exactly what he meant.
“That ‘I’m physically in Philadelphia but mentally undressing a Scottish socialite’ look.” He clinked his glass against mine with a smirk. “It’s been your default facial expression since we left New York.”
