21| Royal flush

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The next few days are both better and worse. With my first day officially under my belt, I know what to expect now when I step into that office - I know what to do to be productive. It feels less like walking a minefield and more like navigating a maze. It's worse because each morning, in those first few seconds of waking up, I think of him.

Ever since that night at the bar, it's been radio silent from Jess and the others on six. Not intentionally, I suppose, but because there is never an opportune moment to run into each other. The floors rarely mix aside from a brief elevator ride, and Jess gets in far later than I do, while Milo gets in much earlier, so even then, I don't see them. On the plus side, I've been so busy trying to fit in on seven that I rarely have a moment to mope.

Mulan takes a running leap and lands on my bed. Her face finds my armpit, burying itself into the folds of the covers as I gently rub her head. Maybe it's my imagination, but a part of me is sure she misses Milo.

I know I do.

I give her a head rub on his behalf and turn on my back, staring at the cracked, cobwebbed ceilings before reminding myself it has to be this way. I couldn't see it at first, couldn't figure out what was stopping me from giving up my job for a lifetime with him, but I get it now. If I give up this promotion, I'll always wonder what could have been, if maybe I'd have eventually found my feet. I'll always wonder, rightly or wrongly, whether my love for Milo held me back.

I allow myself a few more minutes before jumping in the shower. Hand on the tiles, I close my eyes and let the steam seep into my skin, trying not to think about him. And yet somehow, it's impossible. He breaks through my walls, sweeping through my thoughts in that vampire coat and wearing that ridiculously smoldering gaze. Either not having Milo has made me want him more, or I have the mental age of a pubescent boy, because my thoughts are all X-rated.

Ignoring the growing heat in my thighs, I focus on the simple routine of lathering in soap. It's a fruity scent - strawberry and kiwi - one I'm certain would drive Milo crazy, but I'm not going to think about that. I move onto my hair, squirting a dollop of shampoo into my palm before massaging it into my scalp. Maybe I'm touch-starved, but god, does it feel good.

When I've finished, I spend the next hour getting ready. Today we've got the open house viewing, which means it's my first real chance to make a good impression, so I'm going all out. I raid my closet for something to wear, settling on a sharp red dress that matches my slick of red lipstick. Maybe it's petty, but ever since Lucas assaulted me with his mouth, I'm hellbent on drowning in red.

Stripper red.

By the time I've finished, I'm as preened and glossy as the others in seven, ready to seize the day. Though something tells me, even with my go-getter attitude, things are unlikely to go according to plan. Still, there's no point in thinking so negatively. With a quick kiss to Mulan, I flounce out of my apartment, grab my morning coffee, and make my way to the subway.

The commute to work is unpleasant. An argument between a couple breaks out when the woman accidentally spills her coffee on him. He calls her a bitch, to which I step in and call out his language, so he calls me a dumb bitch too. By the time I get to the office, I'm hot, annoyed, and a speck of lipstick on the edge of my dress is driving me insane. It's not even eight.

I stumble toward the office, heels getting soaked in the sludge of melted slow, and pause when I get to the steps. As though whoever is in charge wants to make my life worse, Milo strolls up in that same vampire coat from my daydream.

We pause on the step and stare at each other. I'm in earlier than normal and hadn't considered the prospect of running into Milo, so now I'm like a robot that's on the verge of malfunctioning. From the expression he's wearing - confusion mixed with a hint of pleasure and a dash of disbelief - he hadn't expected me either. Why would he? We're not supposed to exist at this time, at least not together. Meeting like this has all but destroyed the equilibrium.

"After you," he says, stepping back.

Like an idiot, I rush up the rest of the steps. In my haste, my heel hits a patch of black ice and sends me stumbling forward. I'll admit, there's a moment where my heart sinks down to my toes as my complicated life flashes before my eyes. But as the concrete rushes closer, Milo's hands dart out, grabbing my hips before I faceplant.

I freeze as the heat from his fingers burns through my dress. In my stillness, Milo leans forward, chest to my back, and lowers his head to my ear. "You're fine; I've got you."

Straightening up, I take another second to relish in the feel of his hands on my waist before I push through the glass revolving doors. He's quick on my trail, his large strides easily matching mine as we pull up to the elevator. I'd hoped that maybe I'd get there first and ride alone, but no such luck.

It's a race to push the button as usual, but as my palm slams the button, his hand slaps over mine, sending a jolt through my stomach. I wait a moment, expecting his hand to retreat quickly, but it doesn't. Instead, he slides his fingers through mine and squeezes them tight.

It takes a second for the doors to open. When they do, I pull back my hand and hurry inside before turning to face the doors. Milo steps in and then stands beside me as we stare ahead. I'm trying not to look at him - I'm trying not to look at anything, in fact - but his eyes catch mine in the door's reflection, and it's game over.

"Nice dress."

"Thanks," I say, "I picked it myself."

The corner of his lip curls. "Big day?"

It feels like we're trapped in a moment from the past, before all the drama with his ex at the cabin. Before we fell too hard for one another. Before things imploded. "There's an open house viewing today." I pull at my dress, brushing my thumb across the slight smudge of lipstick in a bid to ease my nerves. "Figured I'd use it as my opportunity to impress Laurelle."

He reaches over me to press the button, making me jump. Our eyes meet, and he gives me this look that leaves my skin hot before straightening up again. "I'm sure you will."

I nod and let a second pass, but I can't take the silence. In the silence is when I think thoughts I shouldn't, so I wrack my brain for something to say. "It wasn't what it looked like," I say because I've been thinking about that night repeatedly. "What you saw with Lucas and me, I mean. I categorically did not want him to kiss me, and I'm sorry you had to witness such an unholy, blasphemous act."

The corner of his mouth twitches. "I know."

I frown and look over. I'm used to having to argue my case until I'm blue in the face, but Milo just believes me. It feels too easy. "You know? What do you mean you know?"

"I mean, I know," he says without looking over. "You have better taste now."

My heart rate ramps up as I look at him. Better taste, indeed. "Well, I was surprised to see you there," I say to change the subject. Milo, who isn't exactly known for being sociable, is suddenly out with the sixes on the same night I'm out with the sevens. Now, I'm not suggesting he orchestrated these turns of events, but it's coincidental, to say the least. "Already searching for your next conquest?" I don't know why I say it, but I want to take the words back.

He turns to me now. Steps closer. Behind him, the elevator doors slide open for six, but he reaches behind him and presses the button to force them to close again. Still looking at me, he says, "Why do you care?"

"I don't," I say. I'm back against the elevator wall, nowhere to run. "Just passing the time until I can get out of this elevator."

His eyebrow arches. His voice is liquid gold when he speaks. "I can think of better ways."

I tilt my head a fraction of an inch and look at him through my lashes. "You know, it's nice that we can be so professional given everything." I'm using my corporate voice, the one that bends my clients to my will, and from the way Milo watches me, he's eating it up.

His hand comes up to the side of my face, where he wraps it around my hair. I feel my breath hitch as he leans in closer, his mouth a mere inch from mine. I'm so lost in his eyes that the promises I'd made to put this promotion first go out the window. I take his face, standing on my tiptoes to get a better angle, but just as my lips brush his, he pulls back.

"I'm not going to kiss you, Kennedy."

I frown as he unravels his hair from my hands. Despite the fact he's turning me down, he hasn't peeled his body from mine. "Why not?" I feel hot, flushed, with a heat between my thighs that hadn't been there before this elevator. And it's all Milo's fault.

"Because," he says as the doors slide open, "I'm done playing games. You either want this, or you don't, and the next time I kiss you, there'll be no turning back." He takes a step back, out of the elevator, and gives me that look. "When you're ready, let me know." The doors close, my heart jerks, and the elevator shoots me to floor seven as I fight to gain control of my breathing.

A/N

What time is it where you live? ❤️


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