Something was off.

The pounding in my head was familiar and expected. So was the bed. Except I wasn’t supposed to be in this bed. Why was I here instead of at a hotel?

Oh. Right. Because I’d done some stupid shit and coming back here had been my only option. Well, the lesser of all the evils offered. No way in hell would I stay with my mom, or with my friends.

So, I’d come home. As my brain sluggishly woke, I realized that I still didn’t know why I was in my bed. I’d slept on the couch before because I hadn’t wanted to be in here.

Before I could try to sort things out any further, my body let me know that I’d been out for a long time. It was probably a miracle I hadn’t pissed the bed. Passing out drunk often didn’t guarantee the ability to wake up for the call of nature.

I groaned as I climbed out of bed, my joints stiff and aching. Everything of mine ached, actually. I limped into my bathroom, my hands keeping me from stumbling into something I couldn’t see in the dim light. I could have turned on the lights, but I had a feeling that might make me throw up, and cleaning up puke was not what I needed right now.

I breathed a sigh of relief as I emptied my bladder. Tempted as I was to go straight for my liquor cabinet, I was already in the bathroom, so a shower was probably a good idea. After everything that’d happened, I needed to at least put forth an effort, or all my years of hard work were going to burn right in front of me.

I drank a glass of water as I waited a few seconds for the water to heat up. Maybe after I’d had some of the expensive scotch I’d gotten from someone, I’d call Chester and find out if he’d gotten any feedback from the PR firm. Paige hadn’t liked me much, which made me wonder if she was going to request a change. I hoped she didn’t, and it wasn’t only because I thought she was hot.

She hadn’t been impressed by me. In fact, I’d gotten the impression that she really didn’t care what I thought about her beyond her ability to do her job. She’d held her own with me, both yesterday when we first met and then earlier today…

Shit.

She’d come back over.

I leaned out of the shower to check the clock on the bathroom wall. Six o’clock. Was that morning or evening? The last thing I remembered was talking to Paige. It had been afternoon. Maybe. But I didn’t feel like I’d slept for only a few hours.

My alcohol-soaked brain struggled to put the pieces together, but it took until I was toweling off before I was able to process that it had to be six in the morning. I’d slept for more than twelve hours. My stomach growled, as if it had needed the acknowledgment of time to be allowed to announce how long it had been since I’d eaten.

I wrapped my towel around my waist and started toward the kitchen. Breakfast first. Then I’d call Chester and have him send Paige a nice fruit basket or something in case I said something rude yesterday. I didn’t think so, but it never hurt to be cautious.

I was halfway down the hall when something new caught my attention. I smelled food. Specifically, bacon and coffee. Someone was here, but considering they were cooking, I felt safe in assuming they weren’t here to hurt me. My stomach rumbled again, and I walked faster. I’d never seen Chester cook, so I doubted I’d find him waiting for me, which meant it was most likely my mother. At the moment, I was prepared to happily trade a lecture for some breakfast.

The person standing at the stove, however, wasn’t my mother. I’d only met her twice, but I had no problem recognizing Paige, even from the back.

“Did you stay the whole night?”

She jumped, then turned, the startled expression on her face shifting to something else for a moment before disappearing behind a mask of indifference. If I hadn’t known better, I would’ve said she was checking me out…because I was wearing only a towel. Shit.

“Sorry,” I apologized. “I forgot I wasn’t wearing–”

“You’ve been asleep for more than a day,” she interrupted, the look on her face telling me that she wasn’t going to acknowledge my lack of clothes. “It’s Thursday evening.”

I shook my head. “That’s not possible. I would’ve had to get up.”

She turned back to the stove. “You did,” she said. “Sort of.”

“What does that mean?”

She hesitated, and I had a feeling I wasn’t going to like what she had to say.

“What do you remember from yesterday?”

I ran a hand through my hair, sending droplets of water raining down on my shoulders. “Um, not a lot. My friends came over…no, wait, that was Tuesday. Yesterday. Right, Wednesday. I remember you being here. We talked. It’s all really fuzzy.”

“That’s all?”

Shit. “Did I do something? If I offended you, I’m sorry–”

“No,” she said sharply. “We talked. I put you into the closest bed I could find.”

“That’s a guest room,” I interrupted with a frown. “Did I move into my room at some point?”

“Yes. Sometime late last night, you…” Her voice trailed off and even with her back to me, I could see that the tips of her ears were red, but I didn’t think it was because of me and the towel this time. “I put the bed linens in the washer, along with your clothes. Once I cleaned you up and put you in your bed, I called a cleaning company. They’ll come do a deep clean on the mattress whenever you want.”

Heat rushed to my face. “I’m sorry about that. I should’ve known better than to finish vodka on an empty stomach. I can usually hold my liquor better.”

She turned around but refused to look at me as she held out a plate. “Yeah, well, no one can hold that much liquid that long.”

I took the plate, set it on the table, and then froze as I realized what she’d said could have meant something completely different than my original thought. I closed my eyes. “Please tell me that I didn’t piss the bed.” She didn’t say anything, and that just made it worse. “Please tell me that I didn’t piss the bed like some kid and you had to clean up after me.”

“Don’t worry.” Her voice was dry. “I’m billing you for everything.”

I hung my head and wished this was a dream. “And here I thought I’d already hit rock bottom.”

I felt a hand on my arm, and I jerked my head up, my eyes meeting hers. There was a hint of humor in those blue-green irises. “Don’t worry. Your confidentiality agreement with my company completely guarantees my silence.”

“Yeah, that doesn’t really make me feel any better.”

She took a step back, the humor falling away. “Let’s get some coffee and food in you, then we can talk.”

I didn’t like the sound of that. The talking. The other stuff actually sounded pretty good.

After I’d gone back to my room to put on pants – and a shirt – I returned to the kitchen and took a seat at the waiting plate. I took a few bites of bacon, and then asked, “Did I do anything else I need to apologize for?”

She didn’t answer, which made me think there was something she didn’t want to tell me, and considering what she’d already told me, I couldn’t imagine what would possibly be–

Her hair was like silk against the back of my hand, her skin almost as soft. My thumb found the hollow behind her ear as my fingers curled around her neck and pulled her toward me. This was a bad idea, but I had to know what she tasted like, what her lips felt like. My mouth came down on hers, and it was like nothing I’d felt before. Heat and electricity, all of it narrowed down to a single point of contact. And then she had her hands in my hair, her body pressing against mine. Fuck, those curves…

My hand tightened around my coffee mug. I wanted to believe that I was remembering a dream, but my body told me it’d really happened. It remembered better than my head what it had felt like to have her in my arms.

“Paige, I am so sorry. I was out of–”

“The drinking needs to stop,” she said briskly, acting as if she hadn’t heard what I’d been trying to say. “Not just cut back, but actually stop. No more alcohol until I say it’s okay.”

That got my attention. Not because of the drinking, but because she thought she could actually give me an order. Aside from my mother, no one told me what to do. It actually made me smile.

I stood up and picked up my now-empty plate. “What if I don’t want to stop?” I turned toward her, actually curious to hear her answer.

Her eyes narrowed as she closed the distance between us. Even though I was dressed, she kept her eyes on mine. She was as close as she’d been before, when I’d kissed her, but I had a feeling that if I tried that now, she’d probably slap me. Or bite me.

That last thought shouldn’t have sent blood rushing straight to my cock.

“I was hired to do a job, Mr. Union.” She put her hands on her hips. “This is how the job gets done. This is how I save your image.”

Her eyes were sparking, showing me that I hadn’t imagined her fire. I wanted to reach out and touch her, see how she’d respond. She was strong, stubborn, independent…all of the things that should have turned me off as a Dom. Even with vanilla sex, I needed the control, the challenge.

Paige was definitely a challenge.

“If you’re not willing to do what I ask, then maybe we need to find someone else to take my place.”

Hell no. This was just getting interesting.

“Maybe I just need the right incentive,” I suggested. I gave her a slow, thorough look, letting myself see all the things my subconscious had registered before.

Damn.

“What do you say, Paige? I do what you ask, and I get rewarded?”