RORY
By the time my last meeting ended, I was two spreadsheets away from committing crimes against PowerPoint. My brain was melting. My heels hurt. My iced coffee had died a slow, tragic death hours ago.
Jacob had been surprisingly cool all day strictly business, which meant no awkward Vaughn tension and no emotional landmines. Just marketing, logistics, and a few offhand comments about “tightening the ad spend on the secondary funnel.” Sexy.
It was actually... peaceful?
Which i knew meant it wouldn’t last.
By 7PM, I was in my apartment, the lights low, candles lit, and my rain-scented bath bomb fizzling into a symphony of eucalyptus and lies. I needed the steam. I needed silence. I needed to stop thinking about two very different men with very similar hands.
My brain: You’re safe he
