A woman dressed like that being carried by a broad-shouldered man through a luxury hotel after midnight was not invisible.
The Single Dad hated every second of it.
The CEO did not seem to care.
Halfway through the lobby, she rested her cheek near his neck.
“You smell like rain.”
“You smell like a vineyard.”
She laughed softly.
“I’m firing you.”
“Tomorrow.”
“Maybe.”
He looked down.
Her eyes were closed.
For the first time since knowing her, the Single Dad saw her without armor.
He did not like how much it affected him.
He carried her to his SUV.
She objected to the vehicle.
“This is old.”
“It runs.”
“The leather is cracked.”
“Don’t insult the truck that is currently rescuing you.”
“It’s an SUV.”
“Technicality.”
He settled her into the passenger seat.
Fastened her belt only after telling her what he was doing.
She watched his face.
Again, too close.
Her fingers lifted.
Touched his jaw.
The Single Dad froze.
“What are you doing?”
“You have gray here.”
“Thank you.”
“Not bad.”
“CEO.”
Her fingers moved toward his collar.
He caught her wrist.
Gently.
“No.”
She looked surprised.
“No?”
“You’re drunk.”
“So?”
“So anything you think you want tonight gets reconsidered tomorrow.”
Her expression hardened slightly.
“I’m not confused.”
“I didn’t say you are.”
“You think I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“I think you’ve had four glasses of wine, you can barely stand, and I work for you.”
That landed.
The CEO slowly withdrew her hand.
“You really do hate me.”
“No.”
He closed the passenger door.
Then drove.
The trip to her apartment building took twenty-five minutes.
She talked for seven.
Then silence.
Then, unexpectedly:
“I made you miss your daughter’s concert.”
The Single Dad’s hands tightened on the wheel.
“Yes.”
“I remember.”
He looked ahead.
“Good.”
“I thought you’d say it didn’t matter.”
“It mattered.”
The CEO turned toward his voice.
“I was awful.”
“You were.”
She laughed weakly.
“You really aren’t going to help me feel better.”
“No.”
“Why did you come?”
He did not answer immediately.
Then:
“Because you called.”
“That’s not enough.”
“It was tonight.”
She studied him.
“After everything?”
“Yes.”
“You should’ve left me there.”
“No.”
“Why?”
The Single Dad glanced toward her.
“Because being angry with someone isn’t permission to abandon them when they’re unsafe.”
The CEO became very quiet.
Minutes later, she whispered:
“My mother would’ve liked you.”
He said nothing.
They arrived.
The doorman recognized her immediately.
His eyes widened when he saw how she was being carried.
The Single Dad said before the man could speak:
“She’s sick.”
The CEO murmured:
“Drunk.”
The Single Dad looked down.
“Helpful.”
She smiled against his shoulder.
The elevator ride to the penthouse was worse.
Too quiet.