Isabel shrugs. 揑抦 not a big holiday person.?
That doesn抰 surprise me at all. Although it occurs to me, I know hardly anything about Isabel outside of her professional aspirations. 揗e neither.?
揑s that why you抮e here??
I sigh. Down more bourbon. 揘o. I fucked things up with Scarlett.?
揙h??
揥e had a fight. It was my fault. I just桰 didn抰 expect it to be like this, you know? She梬e梬eren抰 supposed to feel so real.?I drain the rest of my glass before standing and walking over to the bar cart, refilling my glass before I sink down beside her, slouching back against the couch. 換uite the damn day, huh??
Isabel leans back, mirroring my posture. 揧eah.?She pauses. 揟he board抯 vote will be unanimous, you know.?
揤ote about what??
揗aking you CEO.?
揑抳e got the right last name.?
揧ou抳e got a lot more than that, Crew.?Her left hand migrates to my knee. Before I抳e had time to process the touch, she抯 sliding up my thigh with a clear destination in mind.
I抦 frozen. Shocked. For some reason, this wasn抰 an outcome I imagined when she entered this office. And it would be easy to let this unfold. Emotionless and empty, exactly what I used to expect from sex. Scarlett would never need to know. Maybe she wouldn抰 even care after our argument earlier.
But I would know. I would care. My brain is processing what my body already knows: I only want Scarlett. My dick isn抰 even reacting. And I haven抰 had that much to drink.
I stand abruptly, leaving Isabel on the couch with a wounded expression. 揋o.?
揅rew厰
揑 said go, Isabel. I抦 your boss. If you want to keep your job, you抣l never touch me inappropriately again.?
She stands, some defiance mixing with the hurt. 揑 won抰 tell anyone about us. You can trust me.?
揟here is no us, and I don抰 trust you, Isabel. I抦 married.?
Isabel scoffs. 揘ot happily.?
揑。 Don抰。 Want. You. Don抰 test me, Isabel. You won抰 like the consequences.?
Reality and stubbornness fight for space in her expression. 揑抳e had a crush on you since I started here, you know. I should have made a move sooner. Apparently, I was the only person in this city unaware you were engaged to Scarlett Ellsworth. What I get for avoiding gossip, huh? But then everyone said she was cold and detached and only in it for the money. So I thought I still had a shot.?
I sigh, suddenly exhausted. 揑 am happily married, Isabel.?
She gives me a small, sad smile. 揧eah, I figured that out when you jumped away like I抎 set the couch on fire.?
揑 didn抰 know you felt that way. If you want to transfer to another team, I can棓
揘o. No, it won抰 be an issue. I promise.?
I study her for a minute, weighing her sincerity. 揑 don抰 give second chances.?
She swallows and bobs a nod. 揑 know.?
揋ood.?
I watch her leave, then sink down behind my desk. If Asher ever caught wind of what just happened, I wouldn抰 hear the end of it for a while. He抯 the one who insisted Isabel had feelings for me. After her questions about Scarlett, I thought we抎 moved past it. Thought she knew it would never happen. Even if Isabel had expressed interest sooner. I kept sex uncomplicated梐nd sleeping with a member of the board wasn抰 that. And now?I抳e never explicitly promised Scarlett fidelity. But up until the opportunity to cheat was dropped in my lap條iterally梔oing so didn抰 occur to me.
My phone vibrates with a text from my brother.
Oliver: I know you抳e seen the news. We抮e back in NY. Meet you at the office at 8.
I stumble as I stand, either from the whiskey or the exhaustion catching up to me. But my steps are steady as I leave my exit and head toward the elevators. There抯 no sign of Isabel, nor anyone else.
I know driving is a bad idea, so I flag a cab once I reach the street and give the driver the address for my family抯 estate just outside of the city. The trip takes twenty minutes. I start to feel the buzz of alcohol about ten minutes in. But it doesn抰 deter me.
After paying the driver and punching in the code, I walk through the front door. Automatically, my feet veer to the right, toward my father抯 study. There抯 already a light on, but I抦 more focused on collapsing onto the couch than squinting at my surroundings.
揑 hope you didn抰 drive here,?my father comments, rising from behind his mahogany desk and walking over to the fireplace. He pours himself a glass of scotch and takes a seat in one of the chairs that flank the stone fa鏰de.
揑s it true??I ask the ceiling.
My father sighs. Ice clinks as he swirls his glass. 揑t抯 not quite as bad as the press is saying. But yes, there were some questions being asked. It was being handled.?
揇ammit, Dad. Why didn抰 you tell me??