72.
"So, about work and… us," I prompt on the drive to my place.
Edward glances over at me. "There's an us?"
"You know what I mean. Remember the fraternization policy you threw in my face?"
Instant frown. "I didn't want you to fraternize with Jared."
I smile. Jealous bastard.
"I figured. But maybe we keep this quiet? I would hate to get my hand slapped—or worse—by HR."
"Quiet. Sure. I don't really talk to anyone."
I smirk. "True."
"Don't worry about it. If you want me to be your secret sex slave, I'll take what I can get."
73.
Edward drops me off at my condo, walks me upstairs, gives me a lingering kiss.
"I'd invite you inside but I have to get ready. I don't trust myself not to jump your bones."
He smirks. "Got a last-minute meeting, anyway."
I tug on the lapels of his bluest suit, the one he let me pick out.
His closet was a dream. He let me go through it, recalling different memories I have of him wearing each suit.
He listened with amused eyes and said, "Guess you were honest. You've never hated me."
I shut him up with a kiss.
74.
I text Rose: Guess what?
You banged Dior.
How'd you know?
Sixth sense.
For knowing when someone's had sex?
I'm slightly psychic. How was it?
Don't you already know? Since you're psychic?
Touché.
She doesn't say anything else, but I'm buzzing, needing to gush over this fucking man.
He's so. damn. good. I'm screwed.
Why?
Fraternization policy. Can't technically date. Even if we could, do I want people to think I'm banging the boss's son with an ulterior motive?
So? Don't tell anyone, and don't fuck him in the office. Problem solved.
Great advice.
Live a little. It's Dior, girl.