Page 122 of Not Safe For Work

I nodded. “Yeah. Thanks.”

“In the meantime, just keep working. I know that’s asking a lot because your concentration is probably shot, but I don’t know what else to tell you.”

“I know. And…” I cringed. “I need to finish that model for the meeting with Horizon Developing this afternoon.”

Marie winced. “Shit.” She chewed her lip, rocking from her heels to the balls of her feet. Then she met my gaze. “Skip the meeting. I’ll make excuses to the partners. It isn’t like they’ll say anything to anyone but you or me, and I’ll vouch for you.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.” She shooed me toward the door. “Go. I’ll come up with something, and we’ll figure this out somehow.”

“Thanks.”

I left, and on my way to the elevator, my stomach lurched. I wasn’t ready to face my crew anyway, so I stepped into the men’s room to compose myself. The sick feeling subsided pretty quickly—enough that I knew I wasn’t going to actually puke—but the panicked, heart-pounding, gut-twisting “oh fuck” feeling wasn’t going anywhere.

My bosses knew, and soon, my colleagues would know, and that thought filled me with almost as much panic and dread as the prospect of looking Rick in the eye tonight. I wasn’t ready to talk about this with him. I sure as fuck wasn’t ready to talk about it with them.

And damn it. Of all the restrooms in this building, I’d picked this one. The one where we’d stolen another kiss on company property when I’d been working myself into the ground.

I leaned against the icy wall and stared up at the ceiling. This was really happening, wasn’t it? The jig was up, the truth was out, and I was fucked.

Now I had two choices—I could keep Rick happy, or I could find another job.

Forty-five. In a profession that was rapidly being replaced by computers. With three kids in college and two looking at grad school.

Correction—I had one choice.

Which technically meant no choice.

Which meant that either Rick was literally fucked, or I was figuratively fucked, and holy shit, ultimatums like this didn’t bode well for anyone getting turned on enough to fuck.

I slid down the wall until I was crouched, the vague ache in my knees reminding me of the times I’d done this while Rick knelt in front of me. That memory should’ve been enough to make me grin, or raise goose bumps on my spine at the thought of having all that again at the next possible opportunity.

Did I tell Rick? Or did I keep it to myself? Shit. I couldn’t tell him. Then he might pull his business from the firm, and we’d all be fucked. Or he might think everything I’d done for him so far had been out of a need for job security.

A ball of lead formed in my gut. It hadn’t been for job security before, but suddenly I didn’t know where that ended and my desire began. Now I had to keep Rick happy. I had to give him anything and everything he wanted. I had to make sure this thing worked, kept working, didn’t stop working any time soon.

Fuck. This wasn’t done blowing up in my face, was it?