I usually dread logging in to Zoom on Monday mornings, simply because it means it’s the beginning of yet another work week, but today, that trepidation is compounded.
It isn’t that I hate my job. I love the creative aspects of it, and working remotely is a dream. Sure, I’d love if my plate wasn’t always so full, considering my working hours are usually from about five minutes after I wake up in the morning to ten minutes before I go to bed. But most days, I’m thankful for the steady, well-paying job I usually enjoy.
Doesn’t mean I want to fucking be here today, though.
I shift in my desk chair, feeling only a bit of tenderness today. Strangely, I think I’ll miss the feeling when it finally subsides. Because when it’s gone, there won’t be a single physical reminder left of my night with Daniel.
What we did was a mistake, and that’s a fact I’ve reminded myself of at least a hundred times already. It was a whim, a fantasy, and a temptation I shouldn’t have fallen for. But could anyone blame me? Daniel is hot as hell and aggressively confident. I hate him for it, but unfortunately, that’s exactly what I’m attracted to.
The thing is, that type of man is rarely attracted to me. I’m brash and hot-headed. I act before I think and never reject a challenge. Those qualities are not exactly becoming of a lady, or so I’ve been told, but most days, I like who I am. I have no qualms about standing up for myself and speaking out, and I like knowing what I want and going after it with every atom of my being.
So the knowledge that there’s a man out there who can look past all of that and still want me—or even want me because of it—blows my mind a little. And it makes me all the more hung up on him in return.
But this has to stop. Hell, it shouldn’t have started.
With one last deep breath, I click the link to our daily team meeting—a sometimes pointless waste of time that allows our bosses to make sure we’re all alive and on task—and ensure my microphone is set to mute.
Most of my fellow production and acquisitions team members are already there, but Daniel’s little video box hasn’t appeared, leaving me feeling somewhere between disappointed and relieved. While we wait for the meeting to begin, my coworkers chat about the holiday party and their ensuing weekends. Based on what I saw before leaving with Daniel on Thursday, there’s no doubt in my mind the majority of these people were hungover the next morning and stayed home, so the postmortem is happening now.
Daniel joins just as our manager, Jim, recalls his experience at the party to raucous laughter from those who aren’t muted. But all I can do is stare at the little black box that says Daniel Santiago until his video starts.
I wish I could say I found his disheveled hair and wrinkled T-shirt—like he just rolled out of bed—disgusting, but that would be a lie, and it’s too early in the day to start lying to myself.
“Okay, we have to talk about what we all witnessed,” Jim says, and my attention snaps back to him. “Daniel, why didn’t you tell anyone you could dance so well?”
Daniel offers up a relaxed smile and a short laugh. “My family would disown me if I couldn’t dance,” he says, his accent a little thicker this morning. Now I know he’s just woken up.
“And Selene,” Jim squawks.
I scramble to unmute myself to avoid any awkward silence.
“I didn’t know you could move like that either,” he continues.
Smiling, I sit a little straighter, ready to crack a stupid joke about how I’m full of surprises, but Daniel beats me to reply.
“She told us she was a dancer.”
Did I? I don’t remember mentioning it at work. Did I include it as my fun fact when I was first introduced to the company years ago? And if so, was that seriously memorable enough to stick in Daniel’s mind? Because judging from the reactions of my other coworkers, including some of my closest friends, they don’t remember that at all.
“That kind of song requires a partner, and I knew she was my best bet,” Daniel finishes with a corporate smile. “No offense to the rest of you.”
He garners laughter and more envious comments, but all I can do is fake a smile and obsess over the thoughts swirling in my mind.
How much does Daniel know about me?
And has he been thinking of me as much as I’ve been thinking of him?
Can you jump on a Zoom call with Daniel and Sally Marinson + her agent in a few minutes? She wants an update from the creative side as well.
Yeah, no problem, I reply to the Slack message from Jim, even though my heart has surged into my throat.
Great. Daniel will send the link in a sec.
So far, this has been the kind of quiet Monday I prefer. I’ve been working on edits, uninterrupted, for most of the morning. Tomorrow, I’ll be stuck in an all-day meeting in order to figure out the trajectory of one of our serials, stuck talking to people for eight hours as we throw spaghetti against the wall and hope something will stick. Today, however, I didn’t expect to talk to anyone after our morning meeting. My stomach lurches at the thought of being nearly one-on-one with Daniel.
We still haven’t talked since our night together, minus that strange comment of his earlier, but that didn’t involve us actually speaking to each other. Just about each other. And I didn’t say a word, just smiled and hoped my camera angle wasn’t terrible. I’m hoping the same thing right now as Daniel sends me a Slack message with nothing but a Zoom link.
I count to ten before I click it.
When I enter the virtual meeting, he’s the only other person there. I’m tempted to leave it and then claim that my internet went down, but instead, I lift my chin and say, “Hey.”
He inclines his head slightly in response. It looks like he’s gotten dressed since our meeting three hours ago. Which is good, because we’re about to talk to one of our best-selling authors and I can’t have this fucker embarrassing us more than he already does.
“How’s it going?” I ask when it becomes clear that he’s not going to speak.
“Can’t complain,” he says easily. “You?”
My heart races. “I’m fine.”
With a nod, he glances down. Probably jotting something down on the notepad I know he keeps next to his laptop. “Not too sore?”
I freeze. So we are going to talk about it. I just didn’t expect it to be in the first few seconds of a business call while we wait for Sally and her agent to join us. They could pop in at any second and overhear our conversation, and that makes this incredibly dangerous.
I drag my fingers through my hair and regard him coolly. “Why are you asking?”
“Because I can see I left my mark on your neck.”
I slap a hand to my skin and snatch up the mirror I keep on my desk. Sure enough, I have a hickey just under my jaw. “Shit.” How the hell did I not notice this before?
“I was rough with you,” he says casually, still not looking at the screen. “Did I leave any others?”
He absolutely did leave more. My hips are mapped with bruises in the shapes of his fingers, and I still wince a little if I sit down too quickly, but I’m not about to tell him any of it. “You weren’t all that.”
“You weren’t saying that when my cock was buried inside you.”
I don’t mean to gasp like I’m acting in a black-and-white film, but I can’t help the sharp intake of air just as another little box appears on the screen. It’s only then that he looks up. His dark eyes are unreadable, but the corner of his mouth lifts almost imperceptibly.
“Hi, Sally,” he greets, smooth and even, when the new face pops up on our call, as if he wasn’t just torturing me with filthy words. “So good to see you. How are you?”
“I’m doing well, thank you,” she chirps, but then her gaze shifts on the screen and a concerned frown takes over her expression. “Selene, dear, you’re looking a little flustered. Is everything all right?”
Daniel dips his head and mutes his mic, likely snickering at my misfortune, although to anyone else, it probably looks like he’s searching for something on the floor.
I clear my throat, hot from head to toe. “Ah, yeah,” I croak. “Just one of those days, but I’m fine. Great to see you again, Sally.”
Daniel soon takes over the conversation and the warmth in my cheeks subsides, but at least I have an answer to my earlier question.
He absolutely thinks about me. And now that I know I’ve taken up residence in his psyche, I doubt he’ll be leaving mine soon either.
“You danced with Daniel?”
I grimace at Marianne’s question, glancing from face to face on the screen. She’s probably been itching to ask me about it all day, but she’s somehow managed to wait until happy hour. Every Monday, a few of us make drinks in our own homes and sit in front of our computers to sip them together and unwind.
“She did,” Ella confirms. The pink concoction in her martini glass almost sloshes over the rim as she shifts in her matching pink desk chair. “But it was very clear she didn’t want to.”
I nod, relieved that’s how it came off to everyone, but my heart is still pounding at the reminder of the dance that kicked off everything. “He goaded me into it,” I tell them. “The only way to get him to leave me alone was to just do it.”
“You could still see the hate in her eyes,” Nikki adds with a grin, lifting her whiskey in toast. “That’s the only reason we didn’t give her shit for it.”
“Well, damn,” Marianne huffs. “Now I wish I’d come to the party instead of visiting my kids at college.”
Zoe snorts. “Get your priorities straight next time. But Selene didn’t start a brawl with him, so in the grand scheme of things, you didn’t miss much. She didn’t even step on his feet.”
“Not for lack of trying,” I say, a bold lie. “But the bosses were watching, and I didn’t want to get reported to HR. Anyway, Ella, how was your date on Saturday?”
Thankfully, Ella dives right into yet another of her first-date-gone-awry horror stories. She’s a sweetheart, but she’s unlucky in the relationship department. She’ll meet her prince charming one day, though. She’s impossible not to love, and the person who finally sees that will be lucky to have her as a partner. Until then, we’ll all be entertained by her first date tales.
My racing heart finally slows now that the attention has shifted off me and Daniel.
I just have to make sure it never goes back.
