Page 1 of Illicit Education
Chapter One
Rylan
With my head tilted toward the sky, I gazed up at the sleek skyscraper, anticipation swirling in my gut like a vengeful trip to Taco Bell.
Okay, so maybe it wasn’tallanticipation.
That espresso I bought from my favorite coffee vendor on the way from the 14th Street station to Reed Tower was a bad idea. It did a number on my already nervous stomach and now I was forced to pay the price.
Plus, I’d already had two cups of coffee at home. And no breakfast, because, well, nerves.
Of all the reasons to be late for the first day of my internship, crapping my pants would definitely take the cake.
With sweat beading up at my temples, I rushed toward the entrance of Reed Tower.
A gorgeous man in a bespoke gray suit stood between me and the door. I skidded to a stop behind him, then cleared my throat when he remained in place, blocking the only way inside the building.
He opened the door and stepped aside to allow me to enter first. “Good morning.”
Startled by the greeting, I paused on the threshold. “Good morning.” I looked up into deep blue eyes, intense and dark.
He frowned as he held my gaze, then gave a quick nod toward the interior of the building, a subtle nudge to keep me moving rather than standing in the middle of the doorway. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“Oh, um…”What an odd thing to say.I began to step inside, trying to be polite by maintaining eye contact. “It’s my first day here, and I don’t really know the building. Could you tell me where the–”
“Excuse me for a moment, Mr. Rombauer.” The man looked at me pointedly and tapped the earbud in his ear, raising his eyebrows as if I was a complete moron as he stepped past me and strode into the lobby. “Sorry about that,” he grumbled to whomever was on the other end of the call, then disappeared into a sea of people.
“Oh my God,” I whispered as mortification heated my cheeks. If he wasn’tspeakingto me, he shouldn't have beenlookingat me.
My stomach sent another rolling pain of warning through my bowels and my brief embarrassment was pushed aside.
“Miss?”
I looked around, spotting a security guard standing behind a kiosk to my left.
“Do you have an appointment?” he asked.
“Oh! Yes!” I hurried over to him and showed my ID, then signed my name on the list. “Bathroom?”
He nodded, then motioned to the back corner. “Cafe has one.”
“Thank you.”
I beelined for the coffee shop in the back corner of the large lobby. There was a line of people waiting to order, but thankfully, no line for the single bathroom. I tugged on the handle, cursing under my breath when I found it locked. Tapping the toe of my black high heels against the tile impatiently, I crossed my arms as I prayed toanyGod willing to listen. My guts twisted and churned, sending lightning bolts of pain to my butthole like little messages of warning.
Mayday! Mayday!
It was going to happen soon. No question about that.
The question was this: would I beinsidethe bathroom and safely on the toilet when the explosion happened, or would I be standing here, in the middle of this coffee shop for all eyes to see?
I’d have to move across the country and start over completely.
My mouth watered as a fresh wave of cramping rushed over me. Panicking, I reached up and knocked. Just three quick raps. I didn’t want to be rude, but the person inside needed to be alerted that there was a five-alarm fire about to happen on the other side of the door. To be fair, the person inside the bathroom may not have heard me jiggle the handle and,maybe, if they were alerted to my presence, they’d add a little pep to their step and vacate the area that much faster.
The sound of running water came from inside the bathroom, followed by the telltale roar of a hand dryer, and I began counting down the seconds until the bathroom door opened.
“Hurryup,” I growled under my breath.