𝐄𝐃𝐆𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐅𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐇 | 𝓙𝓪𝓿𝓲𝓮𝓻 𝓟𝓮𝓷𝓪 |

~ 11 ~

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:

My eyes blinked open to the muted light filtering through the curtains of my hotel room in Paris. Despite the luxurious surroundings, sleep had eluded me throughout the night, my mind consumed by a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions.

With a groan, I glanced at the clock beside my bed and let out a curse under my breath. It was already eight in the morning, and I was supposed to meet Peña in the hotel lobby half an hour ago. I leaped out of bed, my heart racing with a mix of anxiety and frustration.

I quickly contacted Sarah and Mark, asking them to handle the paperwork and coordination for the rest of the trip while Peña and I visited the clients.

After hastily getting dressed and running a hand through my tousled hair, I dashed through the corridors of the hotel, my footsteps echoing in the empty halls. As the elevator doors slid open, I made a beeline for where Javier was standing, his expression a mix of impatience and annoyance as he glanced at his watch.

"Sorry, Mr. Peña," I panted, my breath coming in short gasps.

Javier's eyes narrowed, but he said nothing as he turned on his heel and strode towards the door. I fell into step beside him, a gnawing sense of guilt tugging at my conscience. I wanted to apologize for my tardiness, to explain that I hadn't slept a wink all night, but the words stuck in my throat.

Once we were seated in the sleek black car waiting outside, the chauffeur at the wheel started driving, Javier took out a cigar, playing with it between his fingers, but didn't light it. The crisp morning air swirled around us from the open window. I stared out my window, my mind drifting as I lost myself in my own thoughts.

Then, like a bolt of lightning, realization struck. I had forgotten my medication—the pills that my psychologist had prescribed to help manage my anxiety and insomnia. With a muttered curse, I said, "Fuck," under my breath, cursing my forgetfulness.

The sound of my voice seemed to jolt Javier out of his reverie, and he glanced at me, a flicker of concern in his eyes. For a moment, I thought he might ask me what was wrong, but then he looked away, his expression unreadable.

I was starting to feel guilty, thinking that maybe I hurt him more by sleeping with him and then setting boundaries. But he wasn't a relationship guy, he didn't look like one, so I couldn't understand how I could make him angry about what I did.

If he didn't have any feelings for me, what was his problem? That he couldn't play with me as another toy in his collection? I would never understand his way of being. It intrigued me how different he was from other men.

The rest of the journey passed in silence, each lost in our own thoughts as the car wound its way through the streets of Paris. By the time we arrived at our destination—a chic office building in the heart of the city—the tension between us was palpable, a silent barrier that hung heavy in the air.

But as we greeted our clients with warm smiles and engaging conversation, Javier and I slipped effortlessly into our professional characters, our earlier discord masked by a facade of charm and professionalism. We laughed and joked with the clients, our words flowing easily as if the tension of just a few hours ago had never existed.

At one point, as we toured the client's impressive facilities, the client praised Peña's work, remarking on the innovative approach and attention to detail. "Your agency truly is top-notch, Mr. Peña. We're thrilled at the prospect of partnering with you."

Javier nodded graciously, his charm in full force. "Thank you, it's been a pleasure working with you all. And I must commend Madison here," he said, gesturing towards me. "She's been instrumental in our efforts to expand into Europe. Her expertise and dedication have been invaluable."

I felt a flush of warmth at the praise, but I kept my expression neutral, my gaze fixed firmly ahead. I knew I should acknowledge Javier's words, but the words stuck in my throat, and I remained silent.

As the meeting drew to a close, I couldn't help but steal a glance at Javier, who met my gaze with a knowing look. For a moment, our eyes locked, and I felt a flicker of something—regret, perhaps, or maybe something more. But then Javier looked away, his expression inscrutable once more, leaving a bit of pain inside me.

As we left the client's offices and made our way back to the car, I couldn't shake the feeling that our relationship had shifted somehow, that we were teetering on the edge of something unknown. But for now, I pushed aside my doubts and focused on the task at hand, determined to navigate the complexities of our professional partnership with grace and poise.

"Javier... Mr. Peña," I corrected myself. My voice seemed to almost startle him, as he seemed immersed in his thoughts. "Sarah, Mark, and I are going out on the town tonight, if you want to join us. We're invited by Mark."

His gaze fixed on me, analyzing every detail of my face. "You should get some rest. I don't want anyone to be unpunctual again," he replied, and I perfectly knew he meant it for me being late this morning.

I looked away to focus on my phone. "We're meeting at nine o'clock tonight in the lobby," I let him know, receiving no response from him.

And yet, as the car pulled away from the curb and disappeared into the bustling streets of Paris, I couldn't shake the feeling that our journey was far from over—that the road ahead was fraught with twists and turns, and that Javier and I were destined to face them together, whether we liked it or not.