Chapter 109
Maya's POV:
I had a dream. It was vivid, intense, and entirely about Adam. In the dream, we were tangled together, frantic and desperate. It felt real.
When I woke up, I felt heavy. I hadn't had a dream like that in a long time. Truthfully, if that phone call hadn't interrupted us last night, I might have slept with him. But the interruption brought my sanity back.
I checked the time on my phone. Six o'clock. Adam shouldn't be awake yet.
I went to my dresser and grabbed a fresh outfit and clean underwear. I opened my bedroom door slowly. I peeked into the living room. It was empty. Relieved, I hugged my clothes to my chest and walked toward the bathroom.
I opened the door and screamed.
Adam was standing there. He was completely naked, just about to step into the shower. My scream made him jump, and he instinctively covered himself with his hands.
"Why aren't you wearing clothes?" I yelled, averting my eyes.
"I'm taking a shower, Maya," he shot back, looking startled. "Why would I wear clothes?"
"Why didn't you lock the door?"
"I forgot. You need to shower too?"
I didn't answer. My face felt hot.
"I thought you didn't shower in the mornings," he said.
"Mind your own business. I shower when I want."
He didn't argue. "Give me five minutes."
I ran back to my room and slammed the door. I waited until I heard the water stop and his heavy footsteps move toward the kitchen. Then I went back in.
The bathroom was filled with steam. I walked to the sink and froze. Adam’s boxer briefs were sitting in the basin, soaking in water. I stared at them, and my breath hitched. There was a distinct, cloudy white stain on the dark fabric.
I covered my eyes with one hand and rushed into the shower stall. I washed quickly, trying to scrub the image from my mind. When I finished, I washed my own underwear in the sink, ignoring his, and hung mine on the balcony rack.
By the time I entered the kitchen, it was six-thirty. I started cooking breakfast. I made eggs and toast.
Adam sat at the small table. He ate the food I placed in front of him.
"Last night was a shame," he said casually.
I rolled my eyes and didn't answer. I focused on my own toast, but I could feel my ears turning red.
"It’s good we didn't, though," he added. "I checked. There are no condoms here."
I kept chewing, refusing to look at him.
"I'll stop by the pharmacy on the way back," he said. "Do you want to come?"
I stood up and snatched his plate away. "You talk too much. You obviously aren't hungry."
Adam looked up at me. His gaze was dark and heavy. "Trust me, I'm starving."
The double meaning was obvious. I ignored it. I dumped the plate in the sink and finished my breakfast in silence, letting him stare.
We got ready for work. As I put on my shoes, I looked at the balcony. Adam’s boxers were hanging on the line, drying right next to my lace bra. They were touching.
My eye twitched. I walked over and shoved my hanger to the far end of the rack.
Adam leaned against the doorframe, watching me. He let out a short laugh. "We slept together five years ago. That seems redundant."
I glared at him. "I don't recall sleeping with a Neanderthal."
I walked toward the door, but he didn't move. He blocked my path. He reached out and hooked a finger under my chin, tilting my face up.
"Look at you," he murmured. "Sharp tongue. You've gotten feisty."
I slapped his hand away. "Are we going?"
"We're going." He turned and opened the door, bowing mockingly. "After you."
I rolled my eyes and stepped out.
Before I could take a second step, he grabbed my arm. He yanked me back inside. The door slammed shut with a loud bang. He pressed me against the wood, trapping me with his body.
"Five minutes," he whispered. "Just a kiss."
It wasn't five minutes. His mouth crushed mine, demanding and hungry. When he finally pulled back, ten minutes had passed.
I looked down at his shiny, custom-made leather shoes. I lifted my heel and stomped on his foot as hard as I could.
The afternoon at Garrison Industries was quiet until Sophia arrived.
She swept into the office with bags of pastries and coffee. She went from desk to desk, handing out afternoon tea to everyone. She smiled at Sarah and Mark, the other assistants.
"Here you go," she chirped.
She skipped my desk entirely.
Sarah and Mark looked at me awkwardly.
I didn't care. I kept my eyes on my computer screen, typing steadily. I had work to do.
Sophia watched me, waiting for a reaction. When I didn't get angry or look up, she looked annoyed. She huffed and marched into Julian's office. She didn't stay long.
That evening, I had to accompany Julian to a business cocktail party. I went home briefly to change into a formal suit.
I met Julian at the hotel entrance. We walked in together.
I walked beside him, scanning the room. I leaned in close to whisper briefings.
"At two o'clock is Mr. Thornton. He runs a logistics empire. He's doing well this year. He’s a single malt fanatic—specifically Macallan 25."
Julian nodded.
"To the left, the man with glasses is Mr. Palmer," I continued. "He keeps a low profile. He loves golf."
I saw Chloe across the room. She was Mr. Palmer's secretary, so I wasn't surprised to see her. We exchanged a quick look, acknowledging each other, but we kept our distance. We were working.
I stayed by Julian’s side as he greeted important figures. We navigated the room smoothly.
A waiter approached with a tray of drinks. "Sir, Miss? A refresher?"
Julian looked at his empty glass. He placed it on the tray and took a fresh glass of red wine.
I took one too. I am allergic to alcohol, but explaining that to every client is tedious. I waited for a moment when no one was looking and poured the wine into a large potted plant nearby.
I handed the empty glass to a passing server and took Julian’s half-finished glass from him so he could shake hands.
Mr. Palmer left early. Chloe sent me a text and followed him out.
The party began to wind down. Julian suddenly stumbled. He swayed on his feet, his face flushed and sweaty.
I grabbed his arm to steady him. "Mr. Garrison? Are you okay?"
He pressed his fingers against his temples. "I feel terrible."
"How?" I asked, looking at his dilated pupils. "Do we need a hospital?"
"No," he mumbled, his voice thick. "I think I just drank too much. Or something else. Just... don't take me home."
"Okay," I said. "I'll get a room here."
I went to the front desk and booked a room on one of the upper floors.