Page 20 of The Price of Power

It wasn’t as if I was well-versed in the current post-one-night stand shame protocol. Was I supposed to cry my eyes out for an hour? Rush into the shower and scrub under hot water until my skin turned red? Order a couple of hot fudge sundaes from room service and gorge myself until I passed out?

I had no idea.

But I shouldn’t have worried. As it turned out, I didn’t last more than fifteen minutes coiled up like a pillbug before exhaustion solved the problem, and I passed out.

Fortunately, my responsible side had set the morning alarm on my phone before I’d even landed in New York. Still, when it went off at six thirty, I was tempted to toss it out the window.

But no.

The last thing I needed was to keep acting like an unreliable ass. My brother Theo already had that job covered.

So, even though I really didn’t want to, I peeled myself off the bed and trudged off to the shower.

For a minute, I thought about throwing the dress I’d worn last night straight in the trash. After everything, I wasn’t sure that I’d ever be able to put it on again. Not if I didn’t want the memories to come rushing back.

Memories of Gabriel’s touch. Of his kiss. Of his…

I jumped into the steaming shower, hoping the sting of hot water would wash the rest of those thoughts right down the drain.

Unfortunately, it didn’t work.

When I dried off a few minutes later, my body was clean, but my mind was every bit as filthy as when I’d started. I should have known better than to hope that I’d be able to scour Gabriel away so easily. Thoughts of him stayed with me as I dressed and ate breakfast, making it almost impossible for me to concentrate on preparing for the meeting in just a few hours.

After all, I may have an affinity for numbers, but there wasn’t a financial spreadsheet in the world that could compete with memories of the most erotic night of my life.

But this wasn’t just any meeting, I reminded myself.

Much to my relief, though, Gabriel hadn’t completely screwed the old me into oblivion. When I walked into the address Theo had sent me—an unremarkable office building near the East River—at nine o’clock sharp, I was back to feeling like the professional I usually was.

Maybe even a little bit better than usual.

After all, it wasn’t as if last night had been all bad. I had shocked myself with my display of confidence, and I wondered if I might be able to tap into a little bit of that self-assuredness again.

God knew I would need it, going into this meeting blind, not knowing who would be on the other side of the elevator doors when they opened. After realizing the stunt Theo had pulled, I was half afraid I’d be walking straight into a subpoena or a line of cops.

The directory in the lobby said the office for Angel Enterprises was on the ninth floor, so I took the elevator up. Flickering fluorescent lights buzzed overhead as I walked down the worn beige hallway, but I paid them no attention.

I was too busy giving myself a pep talk, telling myself that no matter how miserable the meeting turned out, it would all be over soon. After all, my flight home was scheduled for just past five in the afternoon, and there wasn’t a force on Earth that could keep me from getting on that plane.

I found the suite number I was looking for at the end of the hall. Pushing open the door, I instantly realized that “office” was a generous term for the dusty, barren room I entered.

Beside a trio of men in extraordinarily fine suits and the long black table behind them, the place was completely empty. There was no receptionist desk. No cubicles or computers or filing cabinets. Nothing.

Hell, the floor wasn’t even carpeted.

Whatever kind of business Angel Enterprises was, it wasn’t above using a few dirty intimidation tactics to gain the advantage in negotiations.

Don’t worry about the environment, I told myself. It’s the deal that’s important, and they wouldn’t have asked you here if they weren’t looking to cut one.

Besides, after everything that happened last night, I really wasn’t in the mood to be manipulated.

“Good morning, gentlemen,” I said, pulling my shoulders back and greeting them with my most professional smile. I was determined not to treat this any differently than any corporate quarterly earnings or profit estimate meeting that I was used to. “If I had known we’d be meeting in one of your lower-level offices, I would have brought bagels and coffee.”

The three men turned around to face me, their expressions somewhat confused.

“You sure you’re in the right place, miss?” one said, his accent straight out of a Coppola film.

Pretty sure.