Page 28 of Shamed
After saying goodbye to Brimley and the other animals, I give the guys a quick wave and go to my car. It’s only when I’ve slid into the driver’s seat and see the folder on the passenger side that I remember Dad had asked me to stop by the building Dylan works at and drop it off to him.
“Shit.” I sigh, dropping my head back. That’s the last thing I want to do.
At least it’s late enough that Dylan should be gone and I can just leave it on his desk.
Pursing my lips, I pull out of my parking spot and drive to his building.
After walking in through the front, I send a small wave to some familiar faces still lingering in the building, then ride the elevator up and approach the door at the end of the short hall where Dylan’s office is located.
Hesitant. Wary.
I’m always thankful we don’t work in the same building.
It’s not just because I feel uncomfortable being alone with a man, but something abouthimspecifically raises the hair on my neck and puts me on edge.
The few encounters I’ve had with him sincethat nighthave always brought on an inexplicable slimy sensation that crawls over my body. I assumed it was a normal reaction that I’d have toward all men, only it hasn’t been the case with others.
Maybe it’s just that his arrogant attitude has increased while working with my father, especially since the amount of work he’s taken over in the company has risen substantially. He’s my dad’s righthand man—a dream Dad wanted for me once upon a time.
Dylan should be gone for the day, but just in case, I press my ear against his office door, listening for any noise on the other side.
I jump out of my skin with a squeak when two hands land on my shoulders. “Guess who.”
Dread immediately rises in my gut at hearingthose words, and I spin around, backing up against the wall. When I see Dylan staring down at me, a rush of air bursts from my lungs, and I press a shaky hand to my chest. “You startled me.”
Raising his palms, his lips curl. “Sorry.”
The apology is as fake as his smile. He doesn’t give a shit what happened to me all those years ago, or that he almost triggered a full-on meltdown right here in the office.
“What can I do for you?” Dylan reaches for the handle and pushes the door open, walking into the large office with confidence like he owns the place.
Exhaling, I try to calm my thumping heart. Thankfully, the bright blue color of his polo shirt makes him look less intimidating, and slowly, I walk in after him.
“I didn’t realize you’d still be here this late,” I comment, ignoring his question.
“I was in and out all day, and I technically finished earlier. I just stopped in to grab some things.”
That would explain why he’s dressed so casually. Apart from his slicked back hair, he looks like he’s going golfing.
It’s just my luck to come at this very moment instead of any other time he was gone.
Dylan walks behind his desk on the far side of the room, and I watch as he scoops up a hoodie from his chair and pulls it over his head. Aredhoodie.
An image of the red-hooded person leading me away from the party flashes in my mind, and suddenly, the reason why I’m here scatters.
The image plays on repeat, and something about the memory pokes at the back of my mind. I couldn’t see his face because the hood was up.
“Well?”
Dylan’s question brings me back, and I blink a few times, his face, and the hoodie, coming back into focus. But the thought and the flashes of memory don’t leave my head; instead theypound at the walls of my mind like something trying to break free.
“I, umm . . .” My eyes drop to the red once more, my stomach clenching.
Jacob wasn’t wearing a hoodie, though. I remember tearing his T-shirt when I reached for it while falling.
Didn’t I?
Yes. He must have taken it off.
