Chapter 6: Business Trips and Hotel Confessions

Back at my desk, my cubicle felt like a safe zone—neutral ground with the dying succulent I kept forgetting to water, and a photo of my niece in her Elsa Halloween costume.

My best friend messaged, asking how my first day went. Her texts always brought a burst of color into my day, a lifeline to normalcy.

I typed furiously:

[Olivia, why didn’t you tell me the boss here is Alex Harper?!]

She replied instantly:

[Who? Isn’t he still living abroad?]

[I had no idea, this job was recommended by Jake.]

[No wonder it was all so hush-hush.]

[Could it be that he still has feelings for you?]

[You’re not going to quit, are you?]

Her questions stacked up like pancakes, each more dramatic than the last.

Me: [No way, I’m not stupid. The pay’s good, so I’ll stick around for now.]

A good paycheck trumped everything—at least until my savings looked less pathetic.

No way was I turning my back on good money.

Besides, I was stubborn; he wasn’t going to scare me out of a job. Not until I found something better.

My new mantra: focus on the work, not the ex.

The office door opened. I sat up straighter, minimizing the chat window.

Alex finished his call, then said:

"There’s an issue with a project in Silver Hollow. Book a ticket and come with me."

His tone left no room for argument. Silver Hollow was hours away, but I nodded, already searching for flights.

We arrived. The air in Silver Hollow was sharp, the streets lined with faded murals and an old diner with neon letters half burned out. It felt like stepping back in time.

We went straight to work—no time for jet lag, just meetings, emails, and the constant buzz of Alex’s phone.

By the time we finished, it was almost eleven. Downtown was quiet, stores shuttered, my stomach rumbling with exhaustion.

Alex had plans with friends, so he sent me back to the hotel first.

He called later, his voice a little slurred:

"Maddie, come pick me up, okay?"

Since he was my boss, I couldn’t say no. Grumbling, I changed into jeans and a sweatshirt and headed out. The late-night air was crisp, sidewalks empty but for the occasional stray cat.

When I arrived, there was a girl next to Alex—poised, elegant, like she belonged in a magazine. Her laughter tinkled like wind chimes. I felt suddenly self-conscious in my college hoodie.

The two of them looked perfect together.

On the way back, Alex leaned on my shoulder, saying he felt sick. His weight was warm, heavy. I stiffened but didn’t push him away.

The scene from the lounge replayed in my mind.

I tried to sound casual: "Who was that girl?"

"No idea, I think she’s my dad’s friend’s daughter."

I replied blandly. “Cool.” But my chest tightened.

Back at the hotel, the place smelled faintly of his cologne and hotel soap. He showered, I poured him water.

He shook his head, then suddenly hooked an arm around my waist, pulling me close. It was all muscle memory. My heart leaped.

He held me tight, arms strong, grip desperate. I almost spilled the water.

His head pressed into my shoulder, breath warm on my neck. The intimacy was dizzying.

"Maddie, I miss you so much."

"How much?" My voice shook.

"I really, really miss you. I think of you when I’m working, eating, sleeping. Every single day."

He hugged me tighter, body heat radiating through our clothes.

My heart pounded so loud I thought he could hear it. I closed my eyes, fighting tears.

I couldn’t help it—I kissed him. His lips were soft, tasting of whiskey and longing. The kiss was electric, years of unsaid words pouring out all at once.

And regretted it immediately. Reality crashed back. I pulled away, breathless.

But then I heard him whisper:

"Does it count?"

I frowned: "What?"

"You just kissed me, so now you have to take responsibility."

He sounded way too sober for someone pretending to be drunk.

I squinted at him. "You were pretending to be drunk? Let me go."

"No. What if you deny it tomorrow?"

He grinned, eyes bright with mischief. I tried to get away, but he pulled me back, and I landed in his arms again.

One hand on my waist, the other cradling my head.

His touch was gentle, almost reverent. Our bodies pressed close, breath mingling.

His kiss landed, soft at first, then deeper, bolder—tasting of whiskey and want. I melted.

Then the hunger came, years of bottled-up passion pouring out. The room filled with heat, the world faded away.

I couldn’t resist. I closed my eyes, let go. The kissing got out of hand. His hands rediscovered old maps, my mind shut off. He carried me to the bedroom, our clothes mostly gone, cold air on my skin, legs tightening around his waist.

He pressed even closer, eyes dark with desire. His touch set my skin on fire.

I had to admit, his kissing had gotten a lot better—so good I could barely keep up.

At the end, Alex gazed at me, voice rough:

"Maddie, I’m not letting you go again this time."

As I slipped out of the room, my heart still pounding, I wondered if I was running away from him—or from myself.