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Mr. Beast: An Enemies to Lovers Romance by Nicole Elliot (46)

Chapter Twenty-Three

Emilia

 

The mental kicks I was giving myself could permanently bruise me. I mean, I told myself not to do this. Not to get with him anymore, but I did. We had sex on my desk. And it was good. So damn good.

So, good I was screaming. What if a customer had walked in? I was being an idiot. He made me crazy. I have to be professional. I can’t keep doing this…

“Do you want to grab dinner?”

I was fixing myself up, making sure I at least looked like I hadn’t just had sex. I avoided his gaze because those emerald green eyes would make me do anything.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.” I whispered. I felt his eyes on me, finally I turned to look at him.

His hair was disheveled, a messy mop of brown and blonde. His eyes still flashed with arousal, his full pink lips parted. He was so hard to resist.

“You’ll have sex with me, but you won’t have dinner with me?” His brows tightened as he gritted his jaw. Yeah, he wasn’t happy. But I didn’t know how else to look after myself. How else to make sure this didn’t affect my work anymore.

“It isn’t like that.” My voice was quiet but trembled with uncertainty. I had no idea what it was like. I didn’t have any idea of anything at this point.

“Really? Then what the hell is it like, Emilia?” His voice rose in the slightest. He was definitely pissed. My cheeks burned with all the attention being on me. I didn’t know what to say or do because everything got all mixed up. In my head and in my heart.

“I don’t know. I just know that I need to focus on work right now, but you’re…hard to resist.” I felt tears prick at my eyelashes. No. I couldn’t believe I was about to cry. I held back the tears trying to escape, burning the rims of my eyes. And the way he was looking at me, an intensity I couldn’t place.

“Right, it’s my fault then.” With anger, he snatched up his keys and wallet, not giving me another look. “Call me when it has something to do with work.”

I gasped as he left, shutting the door behind him with a slam. I let my tears fall then. From frustration and confusion. And I was so confused. I wanted him. I couldn’t resist him. But I knew I couldn’t be distracted from my work. Hell, I was aroused during a meeting with a client and had to cover it up with a sketchbook. A fucking sketchbook.

I almost lost my head in my meeting with my investor that morning. Getting distracted, thinking of Tristan. Something had to give.

I busied myself with work until I left at sundown. I finally stopped crying, but I was still confused and angry. Sad, too; because I felt like Tristan didn’t want me anymore. I understood. I’d strung him along, and he didn’t need that. Not after what his ex did to him.

 

Once I got home, I called Ivy, knowing she would have something helpful to say.

“Hey, I was just about to call you.” She sounded so happy. I didn’t want to dampen her mood with my shit.

“Really? I was wondering if you want to come over for dinner.” I was never good at hiding my feelings.

“Sure. But what’s wrong?” She asked me.

“Nothing. Honest. I’ll see you soon.”

I hung up before she could pry. I took a quick shower and got dressed in a soft pair of leggings and a large tee shirt. I officially looked like a relationship just ended, even though it wasn’t really a relationship.

The feelings were real though. I burned for him and ached. I had dreamed of him every night since that ball. I was sure I would tonight to. He just drew me in with his charisma, honesty, and good looks of course. He’d been hurt, and he deserved…he deserved something good. I definitely wasn’t giving that to him.

Ivy knocked rapidly, pulling me from my cloud of thoughts.

I opened up and she was complete with two boxes of pan pizza. She could read my mind, it was proven.

“Hey, how was your day?” I feigned my best smile, but she was still eyeing me.

“Great… yours?”

I shrugged.

“I met with the bride and groom, from that wedding. They liked my plans.”

“Oh, that’s good! When is the wedding?”

She got plates and cups out, I helped myself to three slices and some soda.

“Weekend after next. The rehearsal dinner is this weekend. They said I could bring someone, so you want to come?” She shot me a look as she sat with me on the couch.

“Sure, but you have to tell me what’s going on first.”

I sighed, I guessed I should start from the beginning, so I did.

“How could I have missed all of this in a week?!?” She exclaimed.

I just shrugged. I never told her about seeing him again because I thought it would make it too real. But she had been busy this week anyway, so I hadn’t actually seen her.

“But when I saw him today we had sex again, despite what I said. I couldn’t resist him…but he left angry. With good reason. He doesn’t want to get played again. I don’t know what to do.”

“Well it’s obvious you like him. So, you should consider his feelings, you don’t know what you want so don’t go to him again until you do.” She really was the voice of reason.

“I know. I want to be professional, but I want him too. And I don’t want to choose.” She nodded, understanding as she thought more.

“But this wedding won’t last forever? What about after?”

That would be ideal. But I still had to stay focused. On getting a new shop, getting my funding for it. Growing my client base. I still had Sasha. But she couldn’t float me forever. And I had my walk-ins. But I could have even more if I was in a better part of town. There was too much to do that couldn’t involve the natural distraction a relationship would bring.

“I don’t know, I still have to stay focused. My career has been exploding since that gala, I want to capitalize on that.”

“But you like him. He won’t stick around forever.”

I nodded in agreement. He wouldn’t.

“So, you need to figure out how much you really like him. Maybe you’re even…”

“No, don’t say it. Please.”

She held her hands out in defense, dropping the subject.

“Well I’m here for you.”

I nodded, thanking her. I really needed that. Even when she brought it up I couldn’t entertain it. It would be too real and way too hard.

So, we just ate pizza like pigs and watched trash television. It was perfect. My hands itched to text Tristan. To at least apologize. I hadn’t realized how much I was hurting him and confusing myself. But it would just open the floodgates. He even said to only call him when it was about the wedding. It hurt, but it was what I wanted.

Wasn’t it?

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