[Elijah]
There was no way in hell that the girl who stormed out of that club last night would react this calmly today.
Absolutely none.
Her "okay" had hit me like a bucket of ice water—jarring, shocking, deceptively refreshing. And for a moment—just for a heartbeat—I believed it. I let myself believe that she had forgiven me. That we were fine now. That we could go back to the version of reality where she would keep her promise, and don't make me feel like the villain of her story.
But then she opened her mouth again. And reality, cruel as ever, smacked me back.
“I’ll come back to work… as your secretary,” she said smoothly. Then came the dagger. “But I have a condition.”
Damn it. Not again.
The words that nearly escaped my mouth weren’t exactly professional.
What condition? You’re
