A One Night Affair (Kissing the Boss Book 2)

by Fionn Jameson

  Julian’s fingers drummed restlessly on the steering wheel.

  I opened my mouth to say something, but the only thing that came out was a dry hack, so I coughed and tried again.

  “That was—” I swallowed. “Unexpected.”

  Julian snorted, shaking his head in disbelief. “I’m still in shock. I think everyone is.”

  “I think I’m going to find someone else to read.” I let out a hacking cough that left my throat burnt. “I’m glad you found us before she killed me. Or I killed her. I was about to knock her out with a bottle I found next to the toilet.”

  “Ah,” he said. “You mean the empty bottle of bleach?”

  I grimaced and touched my neck. “Then I’m glad someone found us. How did you find us?”

  He cleared his throat. “Nobu and I decided to stop acting like hormonal jerks and went back to the living room to try to find you and Heather. Next thing we know, someone comes running up from the basement, saying that Heather’s killing a girl in the bathroom. And, well, you know the rest.” He snuck a glance at me. “I was under the impression you were her fan. How the hell did you become her number one enemy? She’s usually quite gracious when it comes to adulation.”

  I shook my head and then froze in mid-motion as pain sliced up my neck to my head. “You know as much as I do, honestly. I found her puking in the bathroom. I just thought she had too much to drink, so I was trying to clean her up. That’s when she threw herself at me.” I shuddered, still remembering the feral glint in her fanatically bright eyes. “She said something about me not having someone. Who was she talking about?”

  “What?” asked Julian, just as surprised as I was. “She was warning you off someone?”

  I almost nodded and then decided otherwise. “Maybe she was referring to Mr. Miyano. Although why she thinks I’m competition is beyond me.”

  Julian made a small sound in the back of his throat. It could have meant anything, and carefully, I moved my head enough to look at him without bending over in pain. “What?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe she’s just a bad drunk. Although, if she’s the kind of person who tries to kill people around her if she’s had a little too much, that does make me worry for Nobu’s safety.” He flashed a quick smile. “I guess not everyone can be like our shochu-swilling lady.”

  “That makes me sound like an alcoholic,” I muttered.

  I sighed and chanced leaning my head against the window. Slowly, adrenaline drained from my body, leaving me weak and ill at heart. “This is going to be incredibly uncomfortable tomorrow morning when Nobuki asks me why his girlfriend tried to kill me.”

  Julian snorted. “If he tries to blame you, I will drag him outside and beat the shit out of him.”

  “Please don’t,” I said, although there was no way of knowing just how much Julian planned to stand by his words. “It was a stupid incident. She was drunk and didn’t know what she was doing. I should’ve gone back upstairs and tried to find someone else to help me with her instead of trying to do it myself.”

  “You think this is your fault?”

  “It’s no one’s fault,” I said, listening to the low thrum of the motor and the whooshing sounds of passing cars. “Just a very unfortunate series of circumstances.”

  He sucked in a breath. “Heather’s lucky you’re so kind. Most other people would’ve had her booked for attempted murder.”

  Kindness had nothing to do with it. Even though Heather Jimenez would’ve killed me, giving half the chance, I wasn’t filled with anger.

  “Her eyes,” I said.

  “Hmm?”

  I massaged my neck carefully, trying to speak without getting hoarse. “The look in her eyes. She wasn’t angry. She seemed sad. And lonely. Even though she was trying to kill me, I felt sorry for her. Crazy, right?”

  “Not as crazy as you refusing to press charges,” he said. “Now, hush. Don’t talk. Close your eyes. I’ll wake you when we get to the hotel.”

  The corners of my mouth twitched. “You’re a good guy, Julian.”

  “That’s what they say.”

  As directed, I closed my eyes and let the car’s steady vibration lull me just below the surface of sleep. I didn’t emerge until Julian shook me awake.

  It seemed like only minutes had passed and I winced as I straightened up in my seat. “We’re here already?”

  The bright lights of the lobby outside my door made me blink frantically and Julian undid my seat belt.

  “Stay there. I’ll help you out,” he said. “Don’t move.”

  Alarmed, I shook my head, and then regretted it as a line of fire exploded around my throat. “I’m okay. It’s just a few bruises.”

  His brow furrowed as he made to turn off the ignition. “I’m not comfortable letting you off here like this.”

  “I’ll be fine. I’m sorry, Julian, and I don’t want to seem ungrateful, but I want to be alone right now. Please, don’t be offended.”

  He was clearly concerned, but his hand fell away from his keys. “Just so you know, I’m not okay with this.”

  “Don’t worry about me.” I waved goodbye before slamming the door shut behind me.

  I wobbled precariously into the lobby, very self-conscious about my injuries.

  No one gave me a second glance, but it was still hard to walk to the elevators without covering my neck, which would have only drawn attention.

  Luckily, no one else was waiting for an elevator and I got on one a few moments later. With no one to judge me, I leaned heavily against a side and watched the floor numbers go up.

  By the time I managed to stumble into my hotel room, I was dead tired. After a glance at the mirror that showed off the lurid bruises around my neck, I slipped into bed and was asleep in seconds.

  Chapter 13

  My phone alarm woke me and I floundered in the midst of a dream that faded away as soon as I levered myself up.

  Six in the morning.

  I had to be down at the trade floor by eight.

  Two more hours.

  Surely I could sleep for another fifteen minutes.

  I buried myself in the sheets, and closed my eyes again.

  When my eyes opened again, I found myself staring at the wide swath of sunlight streaming in through the half-open curtains.

  I cursed and sprang up, forgetting that Heather Jimenez had wrung my neck like a chicken last night.

  I staggered around the room, sharp stabbing pains around my neck and shoulders making it hard to concentrate as I attempted to locate my phone.

  What time was it?

  A quick glance at the bedside clock read a little past ten, and I stumbled toward the bathroom.

  I stopped half in the bathroom, half in the hallway, and then turned around as something white caught my attention.

  Going down on my haunches, I retrieved the small piece of notepaper stuffed under my door.

  Please rest today. Julian and I will manage the booth.

  I’ll call you later.

  It was the first communication I had received from Nobuki since his girlfriend tried to murder me, and I pressed a hand to my forehead, wondering what was going through his mind while he was writing the note.

  Maybe frustration. Or being circumspect. I was pretty sure he didn’t like working with Julian, for reasons that eluded me, but on the other hand…

  I stood up and stared at my ghastly reflection in the polished mirror and saw my own mouth fall open.

  Jesus, I looked absolutely horrible.

  Garish bruises of black and blue covered my neck, and I almost thought I could see the individual finger marks where Heather had pressed her hands.

  There was no way I could go down to the trade show, not looking like this.

  Maybe Nobuki was being kind, but maybe he was also being practical. After all, what kind of person would walk willingly into our booth and try to hold a conversation with me looking the way I did?

  My muscles complained as I levered myself into
the tub and filled it up with water as hot as I could stand. There was a bottle of bath salts supplied by the hotel and I dumped the entire contents into the tub, turning it into a frothy mess that nonetheless buoyed my mood.

  I soaked in that tub until the water turned lukewarm and the tips of my fingers and toes wrinkled like a prune, and then I turned on the shower and washed myself carefully, small cries of pain leaving my lips as the washcloth ran over my neck.

  When I stepped out of the tub, I smelled like roses and almost felt normal.

  By the time I finished drying my hair, dressed in a casual pair of black pants and a loose off-white tunic-style shirt, and put on a thin coat of BB cream with a dab of cherry lip balm, the time was eleven ten and I had riffled through my e-reader, unable to find a thing to read.

  I thought about ordering room service, thinking about all the looks I would get if I went out in public, but then recalled seeing a display of scarves in the commissary. The colors had been garish and downright ugly, but with that at least no one would look at me like I had been a victim of abuse. I felt like one; speaking wasn’t easy and my body hurt, my neck aching every few minutes to remind me of the disastrous events of the night before.

  Taking the elevator down to the second floor was easy as there was no one else in it, but walking the couple of hundred meters was awkward as I passed several people who kept shooting me alarmed looks. By the time I found a scarf that didn’t make me want to throw up from the bright technicolor prints, I was practically limp with relief.

  I tied the pink and blue plaid patterned scarf into a jaunty knot around my neck and observed myself in the bathroom mirror next to the commissary.

  Now it looked like I was trying to hide a hickey, but I’d rather people thought I was trying to hide love bites as opposed to bruises.

  Not sure where I was going, I walked around aimlessly and then found myself ten minutes later at the convention hall entrance, avoiding the people leaving for lunch.

  I contemplated turning right around and ordering room service, but curiosity urged me forward, as I cut through the crowd like a hot knife through butter. I had to see how Julian and Nobuki were doing. I told myself I was making sure they weren’t at each other’s throats, but honestly, I just wanted to see them. Nobuki, the beautiful night, and Julian the bright day. They were so different and it was a wonder they were friends. Although, judging from their actions this past week, I had to wonder as to the true depths of their so-called friendship.

  I walked through the booths and found ours overflowing with attendees.

  I blinked and rubbed my eyes, convinced I was seeing wrong.

  But, no, the banner at the top definitely said Shokogan Publishing and Julian was there, smiling at a pair of portly blondes as he passed out business cards.

  The majority of the guests, if not all of them, were women, and a small smile tugged at my lips.

  Of course women would be drawn to Nobuki and Julian.

  The smile faded a bit.

  I certainly was no different.

  Julian hadn’t seen me yet and I didn’t see Nobuki, although he could have been behind another crowd of women clustering around a table that held a majority of our older woman-centric novels. I backed away, reluctant to let them see me.

  After all, Nobuki had told me to take the day off. If he found out I disobeyed his orders, I was likely never to hear the end of it.

  I whirled on one heel and melded with a group of other people talking excitedly in what sounded like Spanish.

  A hand wrapped around my elbow and I stopped.

  “I thought I told you to take the day off.”

  Oh crap. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Miyano. I was just wondering how you and Julian were holding up,” I croaked out, my throat tight and painful.

  My boss stood behind me, his hand still around my arm as he turned to look back at Julian who looked like he was having the time of his life. “I’d say he’s doing just fine, wouldn’t you? Then again, he’s always loved attention, that whore.”

  I blinked at his harsh words, even if his tone was marginally lighter. “Um.”

  He turned back to me and walked toward the doors, pulling me behind him like I was a recalcitrant child. “Come on. I want to talk to you somewhere we can be alone. I don’t want a Goody Two-Shoes like him interfering.”

  And even though my shirt got in the way of his hand and bare skin, I still felt his touch acutely, like electricity running through me. “Mr. Miyano, please stop treating me like a little girl.”

  He looked back at me, his eyes registering surprise. “I’m sorry.”

  I looked pointedly at his arm. “Your hand? You don’t need to drag me around. If you want to go somewhere and talk, that’s fine. I’ll follow you.”

  “Very well.” His brows furrowed.

  But he let go of my arm and I banished the feeling of emptiness as the warmth of his hand vanished from my skin. “After you.”

  He walked fast, his strides long and quick, and even though my legs were pretty long, I still had to half jog to keep up with him as we left the convention center. “Where are we going?” I gasped.

  “Somewhere that barbarian can’t find us,” he muttered, his eyes narrowed in the bright glare of the noon sun.

  Somewhere turned out to be a parking lot corner behind the convention center. He stopped under a copse of trees, the sun casting shadows over his lean face.

  I stopped just short of him and keeled over with my hands on my knees. “What’s the hurry?”

  “I just didn’t want Julian to stop us.” He abruptly reached for me.

  I froze, shocked, as his skilled fingers undid the scarf knot and exposed the sordid evidence underneath.

  His eyelids flickered, but that was about it as far as reaction went. “Does it hurt?”

  Self-consciously, I ran a hand over the bruises. “I soaked in hot water for a bit. I think that helped.”

  He handed the scarf back to me after looking at it with not a small amount of disgust. “Your taste in colors is deplorable, Miss Hasegawa.”

  My hackles rose as I tied it back around my neck. “This was the only one that wasn’t neon green or with little sheep printed on it.”

  Besides, the plaid wasn’t too bad.

  Okay, the blue and pink color combination was pretty bad, but at least it didn’t make my eyes water just looking at it.

  He sighed, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. As usual, he looked polished and very well put together, his shoulder-length hair brushed back over his ears and touching the tops of his shoulders.

  “I’m sorry for last night, Miss Hasegawa,” he said. “If I had known what would happen, I would not have sent you to look for Miss Jimenez.”

  I managed a smile. It felt fake as hell, but somehow the corners of my lips moved up, so that was okay with me. “It’s okay. I mean, did you know she was a bad drunk?”

  His gaze slanted away from me. “That doesn’t exonerate me from the fact that I’m partially responsible for the bruises around your neck.”

  “I’m over it,” I replied, maybe a little more flippantly than I meant. “I’m not dead, and that’s the only thing that matters, right? Besides, I’m sure if she wasn’t so drunk she wouldn’t have tried to kill me.” I frowned as I wondered about that. “Probably.”

  He ran a hand through his thick shock of dark chocolate hair, looking distraught although I was having a hard time believing I had anything to do with it. “Even so, I can promise you that Heather will no longer be bothering you again.”

  My laughter was shrill and strident even to my own ears. “How are you going to stop her?”

  His eyes narrowed. “She won’t.”

  The breath caught in my throat and I found myself nodding because I couldn’t trust myself to say anything.

  He rubbed his cheek with the back of his hand. “When I saw her…when I saw her on top of you, I couldn’t…I was absolutely…” He paused and a corner of his lips quirked up.

&nbs
p; Then he ruffled my hair.

  Like I was five.

  Or he was my older brother.

  Or I was five and he was my older brother. “She scared you pretty damn good, didn’t she?”

  The corners of my eyes started watering and a great shuddering sob escaped my lips.

  I clapped my hands over my mouth, but it was already too late and I was crying like a baby.

  His eyes widened. “Why are you crying? What’s wrong?”

  I couldn’t understand it either. Why was I crying? Was I crying because even though I had all these naughty, scorching fantasies about him, he treated me like his little sister? Was I crying because up until now he had always treated me cold and distant, like a proper boss should be to his employee? Was I crying because he was showing an emotion other than disdain ever since we stepped off the plane?

  The events of the previous night had been terrifying and I still remembered Heather’s wide, bright eyes as she straddled me, her hands flexing around my neck. I had seen my life passing before my eyes in sparks of black and white. I really thought I was going to die.

  Nobuki Miyano, my boss, did something that made it even worse.

  He took stepped forward, put an arm around my shoulder, and pressed my face into his chest.

  And that released the floodgates.

  He was being so damn kind.

  He didn’t insist that I stop crying like a child.

  Even though his girlfriend and I caused a scene last night, he never once blamed me.

  He even promised I would never again see Heather again.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Miyano. I’m so—so—sorry,” I stammered, choking through my tears, moisture soaking into his black dress shirt. “All this time I thought you were an asshole. I thought you were the worst jerk ever.”

  I felt his fingers pat the top of my head, felt his chin rest there.

  He laughed softly and the rumble went all the way down to my toes. “Well, I am a jerk and I guess I can be an asshole, too.”