Chapter 179 What're you thinking of?
June
It takes me an hour and thirty minutes to walk to Hermes's VIP room, not because it's far, but because I'm standing still close to the door.
I pray he’s asleep. My chest tightens at the thought of facing him awake—I still don’t know how to answer the questions I know he’s going to ask.
He remembers the one-night stand. That changes everything. But… did he love that version of me, or some other version? My stomach twists.
I sigh, glaring at the bodyguards who immediately fix me with their serious looks as I stand in front of the door.
"Can’t I just go check on him?" I snap, crossing my arms, irritated.
The bigger one doesn’t speak. He just steps aside, giving me passage.
Rolling my eyes, I step inside.
He’s sleeping. A wave of relief rushes through me. I move closer, laying gently on the bed beside his, watching his chest rise and fall in slow, steady breaths.
My heart aches. I remember his face when Ted told him he wanted a private conversation with me. The thought of it twists me inside—I just want to hug him and whisper, "You’re doing great."
I sit up and walk to the edge of his bed. My gaze falls on his sketchbooks, neatly stacked. My fingers hover over them, and I carefully lift the top one.
Flipping it open, my breath hitches. Every page is him—drawing me. Every expression, every angle, every fleeting gesture I’d made, captured perfectly. Even through memory loss, even through all of this… he loved every version of me he had ever seen.
A tear glints on the page. My fingers tremble as I quickly wipe it away, placing the book back exactly as it was.
He mustn’t know I saw this.
I turn to leave, heart still pounding, when a hand brushes mine.
I freeze. My back presses gently against him.
His hand is warm, firm, and tentative.
I don’t move. I don’t breathe.
For a moment, nothing exists except the brush of his fingers on my wrist and the rush of my own pulse in my ears.
And then… I hear him murmur, almost a whisper:
"June…"
My heart stops.
Hermes murmurs, "I’m sorry for your wrist earlier."
My lips tremble. I sniffle, wrapping my arms around myself. Ted’s words echo in my head—stay in character, don’t give him anything yet.
"It’s fine. I understand," I snap sharply, not turning back.
"Really… I’m really sorry." He sits up, his hand still holding mine, warm and firm.
I slowly turn to face him. His hair, longer now, falls dreamily across his face, softening his features. He looks impossibly handsome. His lips… they’re dangerously close.
"Are you listening, June?" His sultry voice drags me back from my daze.
"What? Yes…" I snap, wrenching my hand free and swallowing hard, trying to steady myself.
"I said I was sorry for mistreating you back then and—"
"It’s fine… really, we already went through that…" I cut in quickly, desperate to leave before my body betrays me and ruins everything.
He smiles, faint but knowing, and stands. His hands hover near my hair, and for a terrifying moment, I feel that old magnetic pull between us.
"Then why did you—Forget," he mutters, casually brushing a stray thread from my hair.
He blows it to the floor and takes a step back, moving slightly away—but the air between us sizzles with unspoken tension.
My heart hammers in my chest. Every nerve in my body is screaming, begging me to give in. But I swallow hard. One more play, I tell myself. One more.
I watch him walk toward the door and ask, "Where are you going?"
He shrugs, his voice casual, "The restroom."
I glance around, stepping closer. "Do you need some help? I can—"
He laughs softly, low and teasing, "Help me? Remember? I don’t want Ted acting all cocky."
I sigh, walking in front of him, determined. "I am still your secretary and aide, Hermes. I’m supposed to help you when you need help."
His brows narrow, gaze sharp on me. "He said you wanted to quit."
I shake my head, forcing calm. "I don’t have enough money to quit this job. Ted… he was being a bit dramatic."
Hermes raises his hands, mock surrender in his posture, yet his eyes never leave me. "Well… c’mon in. I did warn you."
A shiver runs down my spine. That half-smile, the way he’s watching me—it’s dangerous. Every instinct in me tells me to step back, but I can’t. I step closer, letting the tension thrum between us.
I remind myself: stay in character. One more play. Don’t let him see anything beyond the act.
I push open the restroom, ushering him in. I start setting everything up.
Just as I’m about to turn and leave, my eyes catch movement from the corner of the room.
Hermes is pulling off his hospital pajamas shirt. And… my heart stops.
His back—broad and powerful—shifts as he moves. Muscles ripple with every motion. His arms, toned and strong, flex, and I can’t tear my eyes away. My chest tightens, my pulse skyrockets, and my legs feel like they’ve forgotten how to function.
I had come in here to set things up, to leave quickly, to follow Ted’s plan… but now I’m rooted to the spot. My hands tremble slightly, my tongue goes dry, and every instinct screams at me to run. Yet, I can’t move. I’m caught, frozen, watching him, mesmerized by the man in front of me.
My stomach twists, my legs feel like jelly, and I can’t tear my eyes away.
"Well?" he asks, turning fully, hands on his hips. "Do you want to stay? You’ve definitely seen everything before, so it wouldn’t be weird."
A wicked little smirk tugs at the corner of his lips, and my stomach clenches so tight I can barely think. My mind is spinning, my inner voice screaming at me to leave, but my body… my body wants to stay. Wants more.
I force my gaze down, berating myself. Get out, June. Don’t do this. Remember the plan. My cheeks burn, my pulse drumming in my ears.
"No. I was going to take the towels. It’s…" My voice falters as my eyes scan the room. They land on the top cabinet, just slightly out of reach.
I stretch up on my toes, trying to grab them, when suddenly—like a flash—his hands are there. Effortlessly, he takes the towel from above me.
I drop my hands slowly, frozen. My face is inches from his torso. His scent—warm, musky, intoxicating—floods my senses. My chest tightens, my body reacts against my will.
My pussy dampens in an instant, clenching and aching badly. I feel my nipples harden.
I bite my lips, forcing my gaze up—and my heart practically stops. His eyes… they’re locked on my lips.
"What’re you thinking about?" His deep, low voice rolls through me, smooth and commanding. His hands are still above mine, strong and steady, holding the towel—but really, it’s like he’s holding me captive.
I swallow, my throat suddenly dry. Think, June. Remember the plan. Don’t give in.
But my body… it doesn’t want to listen.