My boss can barely stand five minutes with me… but I wake up wearing his ring.
We had two goals for this business trip: to land a major client, and to make it through forty eight hours without killing each other. So far? Only the client is a sure thing.
Because we wake up together, hungover and half dressed in my suite. So many questions. Such a freaking mess.
And I only remember snatches of last night. Giddy, colorful glimpses of dark clubs and a chapel and–oh god. Did my grumpy boss really lick tequila out of my belly button? Say it isn’t so!
It can’t be real. Must be some horrible prank.
Because he hates me. Doesn’t he?