Shit. Shit, shit, shit!

I stare down at the brace in my hand then up at myself in the mirror. I look like I have a pair of grocery bags under my eyes and my hair is wet and limp. Why did I think this was a good idea? Because I needed a goddamn shower, that’s why!

It’s now Sunday afternoon. After we got back from the hospital with my prescription, I headed to my room, intent on sleeping the next couple of days away. I only woke up on Saturday to order room service before falling asleep while a movie played on the TV.

And now, a day and a half later, I needed a shower like my life depended on it.

So here I am, a towel wrapped around me, pain shooting through my shoulder at every movement because I don’t have the brace on, and I have nobody around to help me.

I search the room, spinning around in a slow circle as if something in here may help me solve my problem. Toilet paper holder; towels; sink; fancy hotel soap… toilet brush. I can safely say none of those things will help me.

Blowing out a deep breath, I shoot off a text to her to say we’ll meet when she’s back in town as I head back toward the bedroom, wrinkling my nose up at the dirty sheets.

Sitting down on the edge of the unmade bed, I try to reason that El is right. The only way I’m going to get this thing back on is by calling Mr. Taylor and asking him to help me.

Am I really going to do this?

I’ve known him for a week and in that span of time I’ve pissed him off, made him angry, cursed in front of him because of stupid heels, had him look at me like I’m an alien when he heard about the toilet incident, and now this—I showed him my boobs!

He’s seen them once so another time won’t hurt, right?

I pick my cell back up, scrolling down to his name and clicking on it, bringing it to my ear with a wince.

I can’t believe I’m doing this.

It rings and rings as I watch the small clock on the bedside table, noting I have an hour before I can take my next lot of pain killers.

After the fifth attempt I stand up, wondering what I’m meant to do now.

He owns the hotel! They’ll know where he is. Why didn’t I think of that before?

I grab some pajama shorts, wiggling them on with my good arm, sweat starting to mar my brow. It’s too much, so as soon as they’re on, I blow my hair out of my face and pull my towel tighter. I know if I try to get a top on right now I’ll just be hurting myself even more.

Pulling the door open to my room, I look left and right, seeing no one. I step out, walking as fast as I can without hurting myself more as I head to the elevators. Jamming my finger on the button, I will it to move faster as I check around the hallway like there may be someone waiting to jump out on me at any second.

The doors whoosh open and I practically jump inside, slamming my hand down on the ground floor button and watching the floor numbers on the panel as I go down. It’s only now I realize I’m still holding my brace in my hand as if the next person I come across will be able to put it on for me.

I step out into the main foyer when it stops, noting how it’s empty apart from the doorman who does a double take when he sees me, and the woman sitting behind the reception desk.

“I… erm…” Get your words out, Vi. “Hi!” The loudness of my voice jars not only the woman watching me with wide eyes, but myself too. Leaning against the desk, I try my hardest to look normal. Normal being a relative word. “I was wondering if you knew where Mr. Taylor is.”

“Mr. Taylor?” she asks, her face a mask of surprise.

“Yeah, I’m his PA and there’s a matter of… utter importance he must attend to immediately.” I laugh, but it’s not humorous, more like it comes from someone who lives in crazy town. “As you can see,” I say, waving my arm at myself. “I came straight down here.”

“I… he’s attending a meeting in the main room.”

“Awesome!” I spin around. “Thanks!”

“You may not want to go…” Her voice trails off as I pull open the doors, my lips lifting into a smile but dying down when I see what’s in this room.

There has to be at least thirty people, all dressed in cocktail dresses and suits, and then there’s me—in a towel, my hair wet, a brace in my hand. Fuckadoodledoo.

No one has noticed me yet so I start to turn around, but before I even make it one step, the door bangs shut with a loud crack. Everyone’s talking and laughter dies off, silence surrounding me as I feel all of their stares on my back.

I close my eyes, knowing I’m going to have to turn around.

It’s fine. It’s fine. I can do this, it’s not like I’m naked under this towel… well, not completely.

Turning around slowly, I swallow, lifting my hand holding the brace while trying to wave. “Hi.”

My gaze travels over everyone, searching for Mr. Taylor and spotting him leaning against the bar, his eyes wide and his lips spread into a grim line. Uh-oh.

“I…” I take a step forward, keeping my eyes connected to his. “I have an urgent matter you need to look at.” Walking toward him, I look at the people who are still watching me. “It’s okay, I have clothes on underneath this.” I stop in front of Mr. Taylor whispering, “Shorts at least.”

“Vi,” he growls, taking ahold of my good arm, the heat from his fingers seeping into my bones and making me wish he was touching me elsewhere. “What are you doing?”

I move a little closer as the murmurs start up, not wanting anyone to know why I came in here.

“I tried to call you.” I look up at him, my eyes caught in the web he’s weaving as he stares at me, his pupils getting larger the longer he does. “I needed… help.”

The word help pulls him from whatever thoughts he was caught up in.

He lets go of my arm and pulls his cell out of his pocket. “It was on silent.” Placing his drink down on the bar, he steps toward me, his chest hitting mine.

I bite my bottom lip at the contact before blurting out, “I had a shower.”

“I can see that.” He chuckles, holding his hand out. “Come on, let’s get you back upstairs and put the brace on you.”

I don’t think twice about placing my hand in his, relishing in the feel of it against my palm. It’s both soft but rough at the same time, a complete contradiction. His large one engulfs mine and I close my eyes briefly as he leads me through the throng of people.

He opens up the door, letting go of my hand for a beat as I walk ahead of him. He grasps it again as he leads me across the foyer.

The woman behind the desk looks up when he leads us over to her. “Marla, could you let them know I had to attend to an emergency situation and I won’t make it back tonight.”

“You don’t have to—”

“Of course,” she replies, cutting me off.

“Thanks.”

He goes to pull me away, but I stop him, clearing my throat before asking her, “Do you think someone could come and change my sheets? I slept in them all day yesterday and…” I wrinkle my nose, trying to tell her silently they’re disgusting.

“I’m sorry, Miss Scott, there’s no one on housekeeping until six in the morning.”

“Oh… I… okay, tomorrow will do.”

I give her a sad smile before Mr. Taylor pulls me away, the elevator opening up for him when he gets there.

“You can sleep in my guest room,” he says, his thumb rubbing back and forth across my knuckles as he stands beside me like we’ve done this a thousand times before.

“Oh no! It’s more than okay. I mean, just because you’ve seen my boobs doesn’t mean you have to offer me your spare bed. The sheets will be fine for one more night.”

His loud laugh catches me off guard and my head snaps up toward him, causing me to groan from the movement.

“Shit, you okay, Violet?”

“I… no… it hurts like a bitch.” I let my back fall against the side of the elevator, letting go of his hand and bracing myself as waves of pain run through me. “I can’t believe I did this to myself. I swear I’m never drinking tequila again.”

He chuckles softly, his body moving closer to mine. “I’ve said the same thing to myself a few times, too.”

“You have?” The elevator doors open and we walk along the hallway, back to my room. “I don’t see you as the tequila type, Mr. Taylor.”

I wave the card to open the door before walking inside.

“Axel.”

I turn around, staring at him like he’s lost his mind. “Huh?”

“It’s Axel.” He shrugs, his gaze batting down to my chest and back up. “Like you say: I’ve seen your boobs so you may as well be on a first name basis.”

“Hmmm.” I tilt my head to the side, running my gaze from his brogue-covered feet, up his suit pants and over the white shirt covered with a navy jacket. “It suits you, you should keep it.”

“Thanks.” His lips lift into a smirk. “I’ve kept it for thirty years so far, I think I can get another twenty out of it at least.”

I break out into a wide grin, enjoying this side of him. It’s almost as if we’re normal people in a normal world where he isn’t my boss and I don’t injure myself in the most awkward of ways.

Neither of us look away, caught in the same web as earlier, only this time there’s no one else around and I’m more aware of the fact I’m only wearing shorts underneath this towel.

“Give it to me.”

My eyes nearly pop out of my head at his words said from only inches away from my face, his hand trailing over my wrist. Did he just say what I think he said?

“I… what?”

“The brace, Vi. Give it to me.”

“Oh!” I feel the heat trail over my chest and up onto my cheeks at the realization, passing it to him as I say, “I tried to do it myself, but I couldn’t get it—”

“It’s okay, I told you to call if you needed me to put it on.”

“I know.” I swallow as he turns me around in the middle of the seating area of my suite. “I did call.”

He doesn’t comment as he moves behind me, presumably loosening it. His hand grasps my bad arm softly as he trails the brace up to my shoulder before he does the same with the other arm.

“You’ll have to drop the back of the towel for a second,” he whispers in my ear, his breath skirting against the side of my neck.

I drop it a little, keeping it secured against my chest as he tightens it. I’m prepared for the sensation and I’m even relieved when it comes because the pain isn’t as bad.

His hands slowly whisper over my shoulders before trailing down my arms. I feel his head coming down rather than see it before he says, “Your skin is so soft.”

I bite my lip. “Thanks, I erm… I…” I turn my head, watching him out of the corner of my eyes as I blurt out, “I use lotion.”

His gaze meets mine, our lips centimeters apart. The air around us crackles, my body growing hot as his attention is focused solely on me. His gaze flicks down to my lips as he moves a step forward.

Licking my lips, I hold my breath as he dips his head.

He’s going to kiss me and all I can focus on is his perfect ear.

I never knew an ear could be so sexy, but I find myself reaching for it, trailing the pad of my finger around the edge.

Biting my bottom lip, I move my gaze from it and back to his eyes as his hand grasps my waist, squeezing gently as he murmurs, “I shouldn’t want to kiss you.”

“You shouldn’t,” I whisper back.

“I should let you go and walk out of here.”

I nod, agreeing with him but hoping like hell he doesn’t. He’s been a distraction from the moment I laid eyes on him, but I never thought we’d be here now, nearly a week later.

His other hand lifts, his thumb trailing along my bottom lip. “So soft.”

I groan at the sensations, my eyes fluttering closed as I feel him move even closer. Opening my eyes, I twist around, trying to face him, but as I do, my knee comes up and I accidently knee him. In the groin.

“Fucccckk.” He stumbles back, his hands cupping his junk, his eyes squeezed closed.

“Oh my God! I’m so so sorry!” I gasp as he groans again, taking a step back before flopping down on the sofa. “I never—I—shit.”

His hand lifts, holding it up in in the national sign for stop. “Just…”

I take a step toward him before halting, not sure what I should do. Do I go to him? Leave him?

Finally, after ten minutes, he stands up having recovered from my attack before walking toward the door with a slight limp. He stops beside me, looking down at my face not one part of his body touching mine. His gaze tracks across my face and shoulders before landing back on my eyes again.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper for a second time.

He’s silent for a beat, emotion flashing over his eyes before he locks it away.

“I’ll keep my cell on loud if you need me. Take tomorrow off.”

Shaking my head, I say, “It’s okay, I can—”

He steps away, pulling the door open and looking back one last time. “Take the day off, Vi. I’ll see you Tuesday morning.”

The door closes behind him, the click of the lock engaging bringing me back to reality.

Was I about to kiss my boss? Did I just knee said boss in the groin? Do I regret not kissing him?

Yes. To all accounts.