Maisey Yates - The Greek's Nine-Month Redemption

She smoothed her hand over her hair.

“Too little too late, agape,” he said.

She froze, her hand still poised over her undoubtedly wrecked ponytail. “Excellent,” she said, her voice so brittle she thought it might break.

“I am leaving in the morning.”

“All right,” she said, the words hollow, echoing in her head.

“I will not see you. I will not make any decisions about staffing changes until the next time we meet.”

“I’m relieved to hear that.”

“I’ll be back in town on the twentieth. Make sure you keep your calendar clear.”

With that, she could see she was dismissed. With no more fanfare than if they had simply finished a meeting.

And he was still naked. It was absurd. But she wasn’t going to highlight the absurdity. Not when she simply wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible so she could have a complete and total meltdown.

“Then I’ll see you on the twentieth.”

She collected her purse, drawing the strap over her shoulder and clinging tightly to it. To keep herself from... Slapping him? Kissing him again? She wasn’t certain.

“Excellent. Should I call you a cab?”

“No,” she said, checking her watch. “It’s... It’s only three o’clock. I have to go back to work.”

She had to go back to work like this. With the impression of his hands still on her skin, her cheeks burning from the brush of his whiskers against them.

“So it is.”

“Goodbye,” she said.

He tilted his head. “Goodbye, Elle.”

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