Chapter 16

Sierra

I AWOKE IN the morning to the sun dappling my face, its warmth kissing my skin just as Jacob had kissed it the night before.

Jacob.

Shit.

With a twinge of anxiety, I rolled over on my side, the mattress pressing into my hip bone, to see Jacob lying there peacefully, like a cat curled up in its favorite spot. The light found the hollows in his cheeks and the gold strands that streaked his brown hair. I thought, not for the first time, that he looked like more than a mere mortal.

It doesn’t matter that he looks like a god, I chided myself. It matters that he’s your damn co-worker. And you’re still on a business trip.

Right. Yeah.

But the sex… oh Jesus, the sex. He — Jacob, that is — had always been good in bed, but last night had felt like something new, not just a rediscovery but a marauding of entirely unexplored territory. How could I feel bad about something that felt so good?

As I was considering what this meant, worrying with that long-term anxiety only women can truly understand, Jacob blinked twice and sleepily opened his eyes.

“Hey,” he said with a smile. “Good morning.” His hand went to my cheek, and caressed it. “You look even more beautiful in the morning, you know that?”

I turned my face to kiss his palm, but didn’t have any time to linger in the bliss.

“Jacob,” I said gently. “I’ve gotta go. I shouldn’t have stayed here last night.”

Now he was awake. “What do you mean? Did I do something—”

“No, no, nothing like that. It’s just that, if Joe or Tom or Amy or Charles sees me leaving your room, well…”

“They’re gonna have questions,” he finished.

“Yeah, to put it mildly.”

“Okay,” he sighed. “You’re right.”

“I know,” I agreed with reluctance. “I usually am.”

He chuckled, and I slid out of the bed.

“Wow.”

I looked over my shoulder at Jacob’s prone body. “What?”

He shook his head. “You.”

If only he knew how much I wanted to stay there with him, for that moment, maybe forever.

Instead, I grinned, then scampered over to the bathroom, where I grabbed a fluffy white robe off a hook and wrapped it around my body.

“Okay, I’m off,” I said as I reentered the bedroom. Jacob looked disappointed. “Sorry. I’ll stay longer next time.”

“There’s gonna be a next time?”

“If you behave… maybe.”

He licked his lips. “I’ll do my best.”

I moved to the side of the bed, and planted a chaste kiss on his forehead, but Jacob had other ideas. His large hand moved to my neck and his mouth moved up to meet mine, locking me into a far more passionate, intense kiss. I sighed happily, but broke it off.

“I gotta go,” I said, begging off further kisses.

“Fiiiine,” he huffed, and flopped back onto the pillows. “See you soon.”

With that, I waved him goodbye and cracked open the door to his room, sticking my head into the hallway to look both ways. Coast was clear. Silently, I swung the door further open, just enough to squeeze through the crack, then shut it behind me, keeping my head on a constant swivel.

I snuck breathlessly back to my room, fording each foot like it was my own personal Rubicon. Soon — as in, two seconds later — I was abandoning all theories of ‘silent and deadly’ and opting to throw open my door, race inside, and shut it as fast as possible.

“You made it,” I told myself as my back pressed the door shut and I gulped air. More from anxiety than, y’know, actual exertion.

However, I soon realized that without the anxiety of getting back unnoticed, or the general post-sex haze, I was faced with some hard realities.

I’d slept with Jacob, that much was for certain. And I wanted to do it again. Everything else… well, everything else was a little more complicated.

In times like these, there was nothing to do but text Flo — she always had the answers. Like, she’d told me to masturbate, and damn had that led to some interesting outcomes. She’d know what to do.

I slept with Jacob. Plz respond ASAP.

The reply came immediately.

OHHH MY GOOOOD.

I snorted and threw my phone onto the bed while I waited for Flo’s inevitable barrage of texts. She didn’t so much send messages as missives — each text promised to be a full essay of thoughts, feelings and opinions. All I could do was wait for them to use up my cellular data, and of course, get ready for the day.

My muscles ached, partly from the quick brush with death, partly from my, er, encounter with Jacob. But there was no time for Epsom salts, so I swallowed an over-the-counter painkiller and hoped for the best.

The clock next to my bed showed, in neon red letters, that it was almost time for the scheduled breakfast. After last night, a large, indulgent meal was certainly in order. Besides, we were working at the house all day in preparation — finally! — for the big pitch, which meant that there would be time for seconds and thirds. If you could taste the croissants Charles’ kitchen workers baked fresh every day, you’d get my excitement.

I threw on a simple outfit — a lacy bralette, slubby T-shirt, and high-waisted boyfriend jeans. And no, the jeans were not a conscious decision as I had packed them long before things happened. Was it really only a few days? It seemed like years. Anyway, a belt and tennis shoes made the look. Well, not ‘look,’ maybe — that implies there was some kind of high-fashion business going on. But, at the risk of getting too specific, I did give off the vibe of like, a cinematic newlywed on moving day with her new fiancé, laughing gaily and moving a single brown box while he lifted an entire couch.

Too much?

Anyhow, I had just enough time for a swipe of tinted lip gloss before I had to race downstairs. It felt like I was always running to and fro, to and fro from this room. Hell, there hadn’t even been time to appreciate the probably very expensive and collector-worthy art on the walls. Though I’d certainly gotten an extensive tour of the showers…

But I digress.

Bounding down the stairs and into the dining room, I saw that most of the company was already seated. I was just feeling the familiar high school anxiety about where to sit begin to descend when Jacob caught my eye. He smiled, winked provocatively, and gestured to the seat next to him. Of course he saved me a chair — we’d been sitting next to each other at the events all weekend. Only now, it felt different. Like, he wasn’t holding my spot because we were expected to play a couple for the Big Boss, but because he wanted to see me, to be near me.

In any case, I appreciated the gesture. I strode parallel to the long dining table, which was bedecked in resplendent pastries and fruit. Across from it stood another table, this one covered in main dishes, served buffet style — eggs, bacon, potatoes. In the corner of the room, I made out what I reckoned to be an omelet station. I wanted to sneer at the wasteful amount of food, but was too hungry to kick up a fuss. Does that make me a bad millennial?

Jacob stood up as I arrived at the seat, and gracefully pulled it out for me.

“What are you doing?” I whispered with a smile.

“Treating you right.”

I rolled my eyes, but happily plopped down in the chair. Sometimes it felt good to be treated like a princess. Felt even better when you were in a modern castle.

We heaped our golden-rimmed plates with delicacies. It was as though we’d both decided, after last night, to give into our hedonistic tendencies, to suck the juice out of life.

“So,” I said, trying to make appropriate small-talk. “How are you feeling about the big pitch?”

“Good, good,” he replied mildly, though I could see a wicked smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

His hand creeped onto my thigh, hidden as it was by a starched tablecloth, as Jacob continued, “But it’d be better if you helped me.”

“Oh yeah? How could I be of assistance?” Two could play at this game.

“I have some ideas…”

His hand moved further up my thigh, closer to my crotch, and I was about to let him do whatever he wanted to me, even in this room full of my coworkers, but we were interrupted by the couple sitting across from us, who wanted to know how I was doing after my accidental swim last night. Guess I should’ve seen that coming. Soon, the entire table wanted to check in on me, and I was fielding questions left and right.

My standard reply became: “I’m okay, thanks to Jacob.”

A few of the women — those who didn’t know we were faking the relationship — sighed happily at this, saying ‘How romantic’ and ‘Now that’s a real man.’ I wondered how they would feel if they knew our whole story. Would it be romantic? Or just really fucking complicated?

Without Jacob’s constant touch, I’m not sure I would’ve been able to politely answer everybody’s inquiries, but with him at my side and on my thigh, I pulled through. By the time they were all finished gushing over us, breakfast was over. I had just enough time to stuff another concha in my mouth before the bell was ringing, indicating that we should all regroup with our individual teams.

I was annoyed that I hadn’t been able to devour as much food as I would’ve liked, but that was nothing in comparison to the fact that I wouldn’t see Jacob all day — he’d be out, probably on site, with his crew, checking out the area before finalizing their bids, et cetera. Boring stuff. Oh well. No point getting huffy over it, no matter how tempting that may be.

As we all broke off, I touched Jacob’s hand, just a glancing hit, and whispered, “See you later, babe.”

He grinned, and replied, “Count on it.”

Then he was walking across the room, bellowing something to Tom, and much to my surprise, I saw that I was being flagged down by Amy.

“Hey girl,” I said happily as I crossed the dining area to greet her. “What’s up? Where are the non-Piller people spending the day?”

“Oh, probably by the pool or something,” she replied quickly. Then she leaned in, with a conspiratorial glint in her eyes, and said, “But I know you’re just trying to distract me from the real issue at hand.”

“Uh, what?” I asked, confused by the insinuation.

She slapped my arm. “You and Jacob, duh!”

I looked around the room — luckily, most of my co-workers had already filtered out and into one of the several drawing rooms we’d all been assigned. No one had heard Amy’s exclamation, thank God.

“Amy,” I replied, trying to play it cool, “there’s nothing going on between us. Obviously.”

“Ha, yeah right.”

As much as I wanted to have serious girl talk about my hookup with Jacob — even Florence’s tome-like messages weren’t as good as quality face-to-face — I couldn’t tell Amy squat. If I did, then I’d have to admit that Jacob and I had been obfuscating our history from Joe and Tom. And then I’d also have to address the fact that the two of us had hooked up on a work trip. And then! Then Joe would call me unprofessional, again, and probably fire me.

So no, as much as I may have wanted to tell Amy, to unload my story… I was keeping my pretty little lips tightly sealed.

“You’re imagining things,” I told her. I felt bad lying, and even worse about making a fellow woman think she was crazy, but unfortunately, it was time to cover my own ass. I’d apologize to Amy at some point, right? Still, guilt crept into my chest and took a seat firmly on my sternum.

She winked at me. “Sure, whatever you say.”

And by the tone of her voice, I could tell that, lie as I might, my story was starting to wear thin. What would happen when it was torn completely asunder?