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Chapter 19
“How in the hell do you look so good, when I feel like death?” I ask as Sloane appears perfectly put together in her expensive designer suit, not a hair out of place. “We drank the same amount. It’s not fair.”
Sloane flashes me a brilliant smile, her teeth impossibly white. “Years of practice, my friend. And a little help from drug of choice.” She gestures to the steaming travel mug in her hand.
I groan and rub my temples. “I think I’ve had enough coffee for one day.” I look down at my borrowed shirt from Jack. “Coffee mishap this morning. Now I’m wearing Jack’s shirt.”
Sloane raises an eyebrow. “Jack’s shirt, huh? Booty call last night?”
I shake my head. “I ran into him this morning. Literally.”
Sloane chuckles, her perfectly manicured nails tapping against her coffee mug. “Sure . . .”
I roll my eyes, wincing as the movement sends a sharp pain through my skull. “Anyway,” I continue. “Show me the new necklaces you told me about so I can get home and crawl back into bed. I’m questioning this trip to the office now.”
Sloane’s eyes light up, her hangover seemingly nonexistent as she practically bounces on her heels. “Oh, you’re going to love them! Come on, they’re in my office.”
I follow her down the hallway, my feet dragging slightly. The fluorescent lights are doing nothing for my headache.
As we enter her office, Sloane heads straight for her desk, pulling out a small, velvet-covered box. She opens it with a flourish, revealing a stunning array of delicate gold necklaces, each adorned with a unique pendant.
“Voila! What do you think?” she asks, her voice brimming with excitement.
I move closer, squinting slightly to focus on the intricate details. Despite my hangover-induced haze, I take the time to admire the craftsmanship. “They’re beautiful, Sloane. Really stunning work.”
She beams at me, clearly proud of her latest creations. “I knew you’d love them. Tyler saw them yesterday and said they may be too basic, but he’s a man, so what does he know.”
Grrr, Tyler. I realize my groan was audible.
Sloane’s eyes narrow, her smile fading slightly. “What’s that about? You having issues with Tyler?”
I wave my hand dismissively, trying to backtrack. “No, no. It’s just . . . my head. The hangover, you know.”
Sloane doesn’t look convinced. She sets down the jewelry box and crosses her arms, fixing me with a penetrating stare. “Come on, spill. I know he can be a pain in the ass sometimes. He follows every rule to a tee, and can be super uptight. But he’s harmless. You just have to know how to work with the man. Not against him. Is he riding your ass?”
I sigh, knowing I can’t escape Sloane’s interrogation. “It’s nothing, really. He’s just . . . Are you sure he’s harmless? I get a weird feeling sometimes.”
Sloane’s perfectly arched eyebrow rises even higher. “Weird feeling? What do you mean?”
I hesitate, not sure how to put my vague suspicions into words. “I don’t know exactly. It’s just . . . sometimes I catch him watching me when he thinks I’m not looking. And he’s shown up at my house twice now completely out of the blue.”
Sloane’s expression shifts from curiosity to concern. “At your house? That’s . . . unusual.”
I nod, relieved that Sloane seems to be taking me seriously. “Exactly.”
“Has he done anything?”
I shake my head. “No. Not really. He’s asked me on a date, I guess. But in a weird way. It’s hard to explain. I’m trying to brush him off and not make it weird between us. But it’s weird between us.” I shrug. “I don’t want to make anything of it because nothing really has happened. But—”
Just then, we hear footsteps approaching. Sloane quickly picks up the jewelry box again, resuming our facade of casual conversation. As the door opens, I turn to see who it is, my heart racing.
It’s Tyler, his eyes immediately locking onto mine.
“Hey ladies,” Tyler says, his voice smooth as silk. “Hope I’m not interrupting anything important.”
I force a smile, trying to keep my voice steady. “Not at all. Just girl talk.”
Tyler’s eyes linger on me for a moment too long before he turns to Sloane. “I need those quarterly expenses on my desk by five, Sloane. I know you’ve been busy with the latest designs, but Jasmine has asked me to hunt these down.”
Sloane nods, her face a mask of professionalism. “Of course. I’ll have them to you by four.”
My stomach churns. I glance at Sloane, who I can tell is studying every move Tyler makes. She’s always been such a good judge of character. If Tyler is a creep, she’ll pick up on it.
“I brought in some Christmas cookies,” he adds. “They’re in the break room if you guys want any.”
A creep who bakes?
I force a smile. “Thanks, Tyler. That’s . . . thoughtful of you.”
Tyler’s eyes flick back to me, a hint of something I can’t quite place lurking behind them. “I made your favorite. Snickerdoodles.”
How does he know my favorite cookie? I’ve never mentioned it at work. I try to recall if I’ve ever mentioned my favorite cookie to anyone aside from my deceased parents. Then I remember that I said it in passing on one of my lives as I was showing off a line of Nightmare Before Christmas inspired pendants. It wasn’t even one of my more popular posts.
But does Tyler really watch every single one of my videos? Does he take notes? How would he remember such a small detail?
“Oh,” I manage, trying to keep my voice light. “That’s . . . nice.”
Sloane steps in smoothly, her tone cheerful but with an edge I recognize. “We’ll definitely grab some later. Thanks, Tyler.”
He lingers for a moment, his gaze uncomfortably intense. “Great. I hope you enjoy them.” With a final nod, he turns and leaves, closing the door behind him.
As soon as his footsteps fade, Sloane whirls to face me. She leans in, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Your gut is telling you something’s off.”
I nod, grateful she understands. “I hope he catches on that I’m not interested, and this doesn’t have to get awkward. I really don’t want to make this into something bigger if I don’t have to.”Please check at N/ôvel(D)rama.Org.
I really love my job and the last thing I want is to jeopardize it. I know that Tyler has Jasmine’s ear, and while I hope I’d be taken seriously if I came forward, I’d rather not find out.
Sloane nods thoughtfully, her brow furrowed. “I get it. You don’t want to rock the boat.”
“I’m a contractor. Not an employee,” I point out.
“I get it. But listen, if Tyler keeps this up, you need to say something formally. I can help you if you’re not comfortable going to Jasmine yet.”
“Deal.”
“Okay, subject change,” Sloane says, her tone lightening. “So last night got me thinking. Your bombshell of a secret really sunk in once I was sober.”
My stomach clenches at Sloane’s words. The events of last night come flooding back, and I suddenly remember the drunken confession I’d made. “Oh god,” I groan, covering my face with my hands. “I can’t believe I told you about that.”
Sloane’s eyes sparkle with excitement. “Are you kidding? I’m glad you did! Which also means that we have plans Friday night. We’re going to Naughty and Nice. No arguments.”
“The nightclub? Isn’t that like a sex club? I heard it was members only or something?”
Sloane waves her hand dismissively. “Oh please, I have connections. But Fridays is open to all anyway. They’re having a holiday party and it’s going to be packed. And it’s not just a sex club—it’s more of an upscale, exclusive venue for adults to explore their . . . interests. Perfect for people like us.”
“Like us, huh?”
Sloane grins. “Exactly. People who are curious, open-minded, and ready to explore. Come on, it’ll be fun. And who knows? Maybe you’ll find someone who can help you indulge.”
My thoughts instantly turn to WinterWatcher and how he and I indulged in our own way last night. A blush creeps up my neck, and I hope Sloane can’t see. I’m not ready to tell her about him yet.
“It’s just a party,” Sloane insists. “You don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with. We’ll go, have a few drinks, maybe dance a little. If you hate it, we’ll leave. No pressure.”
I bite my lip, considering Sloane’s offer. Part of me is terrified at the thought of going to such a place, but another part—a part I’ve been trying to ignore for years—is thrillingly curious.
“I . . . I don’t know, Sloane. It sounds intense.”
“Come on, live a little! When was the last time you did something truly exciting?”
I think about my recent online encounters with WinterWatcher, but of course, I can’t tell Sloane about that. “Fine,” I sigh, unable to resist her enthusiasm. “But if I say I want to leave, we leave. No questions asked.”
Sloane claps her hands together, beaming. “Deal!” Her eyes narrow, and I recognize the mischievous look immediately. “You know . . . you could always invite fireman Jack to meet you. Maybe he can show you his naughty and his nice.”
My cheeks flush at the mention of Jack. “Sloane! No way. I barely know him. Besides, I don’t think he’s the type for that kind of scene.”
Sloane shrugs, a sly smile playing on her lips. “You never know. Sometimes the quiet ones are the wildest behind closed doors.”
I roll my eyes, trying to ignore the guilt that runs through me at the thought of Jack just minutes after thinking of WinterWatcher. My thoughts have become a two-timing whore.
“Speaking of Jack,” Sloane says, her eyes glinting with curiosity, “you never did tell me how exactly you ended up in his shirt this morning. Spill the details, honey.”
I sigh, knowing Sloane won’t let this go. “It’s really not that exciting. I was rushing to get coffee before work, not paying attention, and crashed right into him. Spilled my entire latte down my front.”
I continue the story, glossing over the fact that my insides were torn to shreds because after my encounter with WinterWatcher, something was off between the two of us. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but something was off. And it wasn’t just the guilt I felt inside.
Sloane’s lips curl into a knowing smirk. “You like him a lot, don’t you? But you feel guilty because of your secret online profile.”
She has no idea how right she is.
My face heats, caught off guard by Sloane’s perceptiveness. “I . . . it’s complicated,” I stammer, not sure how to explain the tangled web of emotions I’m dealing with.
Sloane’s expression softens. “Hey, I get it. You’re exploring different sides of yourself. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
I nod, grateful for her understanding. “I don’t want to hurt anyone, you know? Jack seems like a really good guy.”
“And you’re a really good girl. You deserve to find happiness after everything you’ve been through,” Sloane prompts with a tone that reminds me of my mother’s. Comforting. Warm. Like a loving hug.
I smile weakly at Sloane’s words, touched by her support but still feeling conflicted. “Thanks, Sloane. I just . . . I don’t know what I want right now.” I rub my temples. “And this hangover isn’t exactly helping. I need to get home and lick my wounds.”
“All right, all right,” Sloane says, her tone softening. “Go home and rest. But don’t think you’re getting out of Friday night. I’ll text you the details later.”
I nod, grateful for the reprieve. “Thanks. I’ll see you then.”
As I make my way out of the office, my phone buzzes in my pocket. My heart skips a beat when I see it’s a notification. A message from WinterWatcher.
“Hey there. Can’t stop thinking about last night. I keep logging on in hopes to find another one of your videos. I’m craving . . . to watch.”