It’s Just Business

Still thankful that the coat check room attendant doesn’t ask any questions nearly forty minutes later, I unlock my apartment door. Stepping inside, I let out a sigh of relief although I’m still unsettled from the shitstorm that happened.

I’ll admit I freaked out. I’ve never been one for casual sex, and as much as I wish I could just shut out all thoughts of him, Evan’s still on my mind. Judging me. Hating me. And belittling me for his own amusement. There are also thoughts of screaming at him all the vile shit he deserves… but still. I wish I didn’t care about him at all.

Realization that what he said was right—Dylan didn’t hire me, but was all too willing to fuck me—hit hard once my orgasm faded. And what had seemed like a sexy risk of being caught doing something naughty where we shouldn’t had suddenly been an ugly reality when I saw the shrewd judgment in Bronson’s eyes and the amused smirks on his cohorts’ faces. The charity and the funds they raised were definitely not the talk of their nightcap. I was. And not in a flattering light.

He’s probably telling Evan what a bullet he dodged with me right now. As far as he’s concerned, I’ve been confirmed as the social climber, gold digger, and disposable arm candy they likely thought I was.

And word will surely spread. Evan will make certain of that. The finance world is smaller than a dime.

It feels like the entire night was not only a waste, but the active destruction of everything I’ve worked for.

“Hey, babe,” Maggie says as I slip off my heels and jacket, still not quite able to process everything right. As I bend over, my thighs clench and I feel him… again. I have to hide my expression before turning back around to face her.

She sits upright and cross-legged on the couch, looking quite comfy in her sleepy time shorts and cutoff T-shirt that make her look like a homebody single guy’s wet dream. Her tablet is on her lap, where I see she’s been doing some binge watching.

“How did it go?” She’s smiling, looking hopeful that all my problems were solved in the last few hours since I walked out the door.

Unfortunately, it’s quite the opposite.

‘It was… a mess,’ I finally reply when I can sum it up in one word, letting out a shaky breath as my emotions threaten to fully bubble up. Her face falls, concern appearing in her eyes. I hold up a finger. “Let me get comfy first. Unzip me?” I undid it on my own when my only desperate thought was of sex with Dylan. Now, I don’t have the strength to pull the contortionist act it takes.

Maggie unzips me, and I head to my bedroom, changing into some flannel matching pants and button-down pajamas before going back out to find her brewing tea. “Figure if you’re going to spill it, I should offer it,” she explains as I settle onto the couch. “Sugar?”

“Please,” I reply as my mind wanders back to the events of the night.

I find myself staring at my hands as those unsettling feelings resurface. I can’t stop thinking about the way Dylan held my hand as he led me to the conference room. It felt like it was supposed to happen. Like it wasn’t at all a forbidden romp that could end my career. Like whatever was happening between me and Dylan wasn’t exactly what Evan had assumed.

But it was.

I can feel the regret slowly consume me as I sit there on the sofa.

It’s all my fault. I was the one who practically begged him to take me somewhere, anywhere. I was the one who shushed the voice in my head saying this was exactly what I shouldn’t do. I was the one who answered all too quickly when Dylan told me to ‘say it.’

“So, did you get to meet people?” Maggie asks me, shaking me out of my reverie, but before I can answer, my phone buzzes. Nervously, I pick it up, half-expecting it to be Evan gloating or an automated message that says, ‘don’t call us, we’ll call you’ or some professional version of that from one of the people I did talk to tonight.

But it’s not. It’s Dylan.

I would have taken you home.

Heat flows over my body as I stare at my phone, ignoring Maggie’s gaze that’s boring into me. I hit Reply, but then my thumbs pause. I don’t know how to respond.

He gave me everything I wanted and needed, pleasure and satisfaction. But I’ve never traded sex to get ahead, and it definitely feels like that’s what I did tonight. I’m disappointed in myself and unsure what Dylan thinks of me and about what we did.

I wish I could go back to the moment Dylan walked up to me after Evan spewed his toxicity into my mind. I wish I would’ve told him what Evan said and let him reassure me that it was completely off-base. We could’ve finished the night with a little more networking, a polite drive home, and a hint of acknowledgement of the sexual tension between us.

That would’ve been infinitely better than this.

Fuck, my head is a mess, and I shove my phone away before snatching it right back up. I glance up for just one second, and Maggie’s wide eyes are matched with an arched brow as she stares at me from our tiny kitchenette.

Finally, I simply text back, Thank you for tonight, and shove my phone under the couch cushion so I don’t say more. Maggie’s eyes seemingly haven’t left me, and I realize she’s still waiting for me to answer. “I did meet people. I got some interviews, and some good leads… I hope.” I sound bitter even to my own ears.

I sink back into the sofa and pull my knees into my chest. My phone buzzes again, but I make no move to grab it.

“You hope?” Maggie asks with her tone prying. She stalks into the room, no doubt wondering what the hell is going on before handing me my tea. I accept the warm mug with both hands, needing every bit of comfort. Without asking, she’s put milk in it, just how I like it at night.

‘I fucked up,’ I admit, letting the overwhelming feeling take over. I can’t believe I actually slept with him… and that I got caught doing it. And that it was that good. What a foolish thing to do. I can’t help thinking how dumb it is, how I have probably just ruined my career.

Maggie gives me a worried look, her eyebrow lifting yet again. I’m going to give this poor girl premature wrinkles on her forehead. ‘What do you mean?’

Before I can answer, my phone buzzes again, and this time, Maggie points toward its cushion hideout, silently telling me to deal with that. I pull it out, reading the message.

Come to dinner next weekend. Just business.

Just business.

As if it could ever be just business now. What we did… I swallow thickly and shove it down. One of the best pieces of advice I was given by a college professor was to meet every offer with a response, never a closed door. And as much as I don’t want to admit it, Dylan opened so many doors for me tonight. If even one of them stays open, I’m still on better footing than I was yesterday.

I read his text again.

It’s too tempting of an offer, and I have to give Dylan credit for one thing. He hasn’t lied to me. He told me exactly why he wanted me to come with him tonight, even when it made him look bad. And when we discussed doing more to exact our revenge on Evan, he was direct and clear about it and what we’d be doing. So if Dylan says something, he means it.

Besides, I’m not sure I can afford to slam any potential doors closed at this point.

Okay. Send details, I’ll meet you there.

As if he was waiting for my answer, he quickly replies, I will. I enjoyed tonight, Raven. I’m glad you were there.

Me too. Goodnight, Dylan.

As I hit Send and the words turn into a bubble marked Read on the screen, I second-guess telling him good night. It feels like something more. Like an offer that will end with my heart shattered.Text © owned by NôvelDrama.Org.

“Raven,” Maggie says, literally snapping me back to our tiny living room with her right hand. Snap, snap. “What do you mean, you fucked up?”

‘I mean, I shouldn’t have gotten involved with Dylan,” I reply, taking a sip of my tea. “I’m playing with fire.’

“Involved?” Maggie asks, lifting an eyebrow. “Explain.”

“I… might have slept with him tonight,” I admit. “Uhm, not slept with, but you get my point.” I’m definitely not telling her the details about exactly where Dylan and I had sex. I’ll let Maggie assume that it happened at his place, or in the car afterward, or whatever her heart desires.

I expect Maggie to be shocked, but instead, she smiles happily. “Good for you,” she exclaims matter-of-factly, lifting her own tea cup to clink mugs with me although I keep mine still. “What’s wrong with that?”

I blink, knowing damn well my best friend is playing down the fact that I am playing with fire.

“You know exactly why.”

“Well, no one else knows,” she says, and I meet her with a side eye.

“They might.”

“And so what if they do?” she says as if it’s a non-issue. “First off, Evan cheated on you. Second, you two went how long since you last had sex? I mean seriously, I think Ami’s been getting more action than you recently, and you know how much of a goody two-shoes she can be.”

None of that can erase the look of those men’s faces at the elevator from my memory. Men in the industry. Men who talk. And if what Evan told me is what he’s telling everyone else…

She must see the doubt on my face because she adds, “It’s no biggie, Raven. You got yours, he got some, you both get back at Evan. Win-win-win, yeah? And the whole industry and everyone in it is basically trading partners like it’s a square dance. It’s the way of the rich.”

I think I nod, but mostly, my brain is whirling like a tornado. Could Maggie be right? Could I have overreacted to being spotted post-sex because Evan’s words were in the back of my mind?

“Maybe,” I say, not sure but feeling a tiny seed of hope that maybe it’s not as bad as I feared. “I just… I’ve never had sex on a first time out with someone before, let alone had sex with someone who could be my boss or help me get hired,” I finally reply, and Maggie waves me off. “No, I’m serious.”

“So am I, that this isn’t serious,” Maggie stresses. “Look, having a fling with Dylan isn’t a problem. You’ve more than earned some free dick, and as long as it stays that way, casual fun between you two, then you’re cool. One time, hit it, quit it, and don’t let what Evan ‘Eh’ Faulkner thinks of you and your potential dictate your future.”

“Eh?” I ask, and Maggie nods, grinning. “Where’d you get that from?”

“From that one night, about eight months or so ago, when you let him stay over?” Maggie says, and I remember. She’d said she was staying over at her parents’ place, but her mother’s stomach flu had canceled plans at the last minute. I hadn’t known, and Maggie had been cool about it, sleeping on the couch and not saying anything negative as I had Evan over. That he stayed at my place at all had been a big deal because he hated even coming to my neighborhood to pick me up for dates, absolutely refused to sleep in my tiny bed, and made rude jokes about Maggie and me ‘slumming it’ together. I definitely remember that we had sex that weekend, because it was the first time we had sex at my place instead of his.

“Wait, you heard us having sex?” I ask, and Maggie nods. “Mags!”

“What? That’s what he sounded like when he was fucking. Eh, eh, eh, eh!” Maggie exclaims, dropping her voice half an octave into an eerie imitation of Evan in the sack. “That was the most cringe-worthy ninety seconds of my life, by the way.”

I tilt my head, knowing what she meant. It had been a pretty quick, and unsatisfying, encounter. Though that wasn’t unusual.

Damn, what did I see in Evan?

He was everything you want to be, I admit to myself. Not personally. I can see that he’s kind of a shit human being now that I have some distance from him and his occasional charm, but professionally, he’s successful and powerful. It might be due to his family, but he still does the actual work and I always found that exciting.

“Now, I’ve got a series drama I want to finish before bed. You mind if I wrap it up?”

After a moment of staring in awe at my sweet friend whom I don’t know whether I deserve, I nod gratefully. I let Maggie go back to her tablet while I finish my cup and go to bed, where I lie in the dark, hoping for sleep.

Tonight has been a roller coaster of emotions. Up, down, twisty corkscrew gravitational pulls that make you feel sick? Yep, all of them… repeatedly.

Which only makes me more scared of what might happen next.