I didn’t bother cleaning myself up. Instead, I quickly cleaned up the desk, picked up the bag of trash that now contained my bloody first aid stuff and a used condom, and then made my way next door to my apartment.

Until I was safely inside my place, I didn’t acknowledge the anger that had been simmering inside me from the moment I’d come down from my high. But when I was finally in a place where I didn’t have to worry about Adare coming in and asking questions, I let it all out.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” I tossed the trash bag into the kitchen trash and then leaned against the fridge. “What the fuck was I thinking?!”

I supposed most women would’ve been pissed at Jalen leaving without a word, but I knew I was the one who’d fucked up. It was beyond unprofessional, but I couldn’t say that I’d never done that sort of thing before. Clay had been that sort of thing. Not illegal or immoral, really, but definitely not advisable.

I didn’t do the casual sex thing very often, preferring instead to take care of things myself, but my last two partners had been questionable, I couldn’t deny that. And I’d risked other people in both cases too. Clay had at least gone into things with his eyes open. He’d known that if we’d gotten caught, there’d be negative fallout to his career. Jalen wasn’t the one who’d suffer consequences for what we’d done. If what had happened got out, the business could take a hit. Which meant Adare would take a hit. Not because she’d done something wrong, but because I’d been completely unprofessional.

Never again.

I stripped out of my clothes and tossed them into the hamper before going into the bathroom. While I showered, I made two important decisions.

One, I could never tell Adare what I’d done unless she asked. I wouldn’t flat-out lie to her, but I didn’t see any harm in keeping things quiet. If it became something important, I’d tell her, but otherwise, there wasn’t a point.

Things might be awkward with Jalen – in fact, they almost definitely would be – but it wasn’t like I actually had to work closely with him on the case. I could keep things completely professional until I found Meka. After that, our worlds would stay apart. We’d have no reason to see each other again.

When I climbed out of the shower, I felt physically cleaner, but that was about it. My body ached, and it wasn’t all from the beating I’d taken. I could see marks on my neck and hips that I knew hadn’t come from my assailant. A part of me wanted to put on long sleeves and pants, tear off the bandages that Jalen had put on the cut above my eyebrow, and remove any physical reminders of what happened.

But as I walked out of the bathroom, I knew that clothes and a new band-aid weren’t going to make me forget any time soon. He’d been too big, too rough. Not because I hadn’t wanted it that way. I had. And it had been amazing. If he hadn’t been a client, I would’ve appreciated every ache and twinge that reminded me of how great it had been. Now, I only wanted to forget.

Well, I also wanted food.

I hadn’t eaten much for lunch, and I’d burned far too many calories today not to get something in my system. I didn’t, however, want to cook. I grabbed an individual cup serving of macaroni and cheese, followed the directions and then popped it into the microwave. While it cooked, I got out a bottle of water and told myself that alcohol was the last thing I needed, especially with the blows to the head I’d taken tonight.

I was just finishing my food when someone knocked on the door. I got up, wincing as things pulled and pushed. I should have thought to bring some of that Vicodin home with me. The over-the-counter stuff that I had here would barely take the edge off. If it was Adare on the other side of that door, it’d be worth telling her what happened just to ask her for something stronger.

The moment before I reached for the doorknob, I wondered if it was actually Jalen on the other side. If he’d come back to apologize for walking out, just leaving me there, sitting on the desk with my pants off, body bruised, pussy fucked. Or maybe he’d come back to yell at me. To tell me how unprofessional I’d been. That he’d been serious about firing me.

Except it wasn’t Adare or Jalen standing there, staring at me in my bathrobe.

It was Clay.

“What happened to you?” Anger flashed in his eyes, but it wasn’t like it had been with Jalen. At least on my end of things.

“Long story,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest. “Why are you here?”

He scratched the back of his head. “Um…it’s about your dad.”

Well, shit.

Just when I thought today couldn’t get any more fucked up.