The Curvy's Pretend Holidate

ON THE SIXTH DAY OF CHRISTMAS, I REALISED I HAD F*CKED UP

(Aaliyah)

I woke up to a pounding headache and a strange unfamiliar feeling of crisp, heated sheets against my skin, and for a moment, I stared at the ceiling above me, blinking at the beautiful, intricate swooshes as I tried to piece together my surroundings.

This wasn’t my bedroom?

My heart raced as panic clawed its way up my chest, instantly making me sit up in the unbelievably comfortable bed.

Where the hell was I?

The room was too clinical… far too clean and polished to be one of those simple bedrooms in my condo. I was guessing I was in a hotel of sorts?

And boy, what a deluxe hotel it was.

It was just like something out of a luxury magazine… one of those places my father used to take me to whenever I had the privilege of traveling with him.

The bed I was sitting on alone was massive, with a high, elegant headboard that shone faintly in the soft morning light filtering through the partially drawn curtains, and yet there was still so much space left in the huge room.

The duvet I was still covered in was ridiculously soft, like a cloud wrapped around me, and left to me alone, I would just curl up and spend forever tangled up in it,

But the real question was, how did I even get here in the first place?

I glanced around the huge room, taking it all in.

To my left stood a polished nightstand bearing a sleek designer lamp that probably cost more than three months of my salary. The tiling was in white and black marble hues, with a plush woolen carpet that one would just love to curl their toes in lying right at the edge of the bed. The windows, though currently closed, stretched from floor to ceiling, covered with light drapes that allowed for sunlight to seep through and made the room airy, not that we needed that much air in the cold December weather.

There was a huge flatscreen TV seamlessly fixed to the wall opposite the bed, and a sophisticated chandelier right in the middle of the room to provide light and tie the whole ensemble together.

My eyes darted around, noting all the hotel essentials littered around the room that I was definitely sneaking out of there, and then all of a sudden, the events from last night slammed into me like a ton of cargo.

HOLY, f*****g s**t!

Mr. Lancaster.

It was insane that of all the scenes that had played out last night: finding Logan and his boss, his cruel, esteem-shattering words about how our love and our life over the previous ten months had all been a lie—on his part at least—hell, even the fact that I had started drinking again, it was the chat I had had with my boss and the crazy proposition I had presented him with that had me most horrified.

I’d actually propositioned my boss.

Not even for a raise or something actually beneficial… but for something as stupid as a fake holiday date.

Worse still, he’d actually said yes!

Probably because he felt sorry for me or something to that effect.

Oh, God, oh God, oh God…

You know, I blamed the wine.

It had lowered my guard last night, turned me into this easy-going, broken-hearted free girl who was no longer terrified of her arrogant, intimidating, hell-of-a-jerk boss, and was it just me or was it the booze? Because he had actually been… nice.

For what it was worth, Jaime Lancaster had surprised me, because, underneath all his rough edges, he’d been… kind… supportive, even.

I was dying from the mortification of how I had unloaded years of trauma on him like he was my personal therapist, but he had handled me surprisingly well, though I’d give an arm and a leg to know what he thought of me now.

I remembered our conversation last night—right before I had gone overboard and proposed that stupid holidate…

How he had called me smart, beautiful, talented, strong…

How he had assured me that Logan was an i***t to lose me…

He might not have meant any of it—I know that, but it had been perfect—exactly what I needed to remind myself of exactly who I was.

Oh, and he had lifted me, hauling me over his shoulder like I weighed nothing…

I felt heat rising in my cheeks, warming up my entire body.

God, how was I going to keep working with him if I was almost on the verge of developing a crush just because he had been able to carry me?

Was I even going to keep working with him given all the office rules I had broken?

I shook my head to clear the thoughts as I got out of the bed, trying to figure out how I had gotten here in the first place. Mr. Lancaster carrying me was the last thing I remembered. But why had he brought me here when he could have just sent me home?

Oh my goodness!

Had we...

Did we...

My gaze immediately darted down to my clothes, carefully inspecting them for any tell-tale signs that I had hooked up with my boss.

I still had on my frumpy work outfit from the day before. My blouse was rumpled but still buttoned. My work pants were still intact.

Whew, that was so close.

A great relief filled my entire being, but it was instantly crushed by one thought.

Just because my clothes were still on didn’t necessarily mean nothing had happened, did it?

What if something had, and I’d been far too drunk to remember?

Oh my God.

I pressed a trembling hand to my forehead, trying to calm my racing heartbeat.

Jaime Lancaster was a lot of things—arrogant, blunt, infuriating—but the thought of him taking advantage of me, it didn’t quite fit, you know?

Now, I know he might be a bit of a jerk sometimes, but I was willing to bet that he wasn’t that kind of a jerk.

At least, I didn’t think so.

Also, let’s be frank. I wasn’t exactly the type of woman Mr. Lancaster would crawl into bed with. It was the harsh truth, and you all know I was right.

I had to confront him and find out what had really happened, because I had so many questions.

I let out a loud groan at my growing itinerary.

I had so much I already needed to do, like checking into my AA group and connecting with my sponsor before my one-time slip-up dragged me even further down the rabbit hole for one, but most importantly, I had to find my boss and fix this s**t, because I had broken so many rules last night… rules that he hadn’t mentioned probably because of the state I was in.

Now that I was sober, I was going to be queried… probably fired, for bringing personal issues to the office and outside work hours too, when I was supposed to have checked out.

Fuck.

I couldn’t afford to be out of a job right now, since I had renounced my family and was on a path to prove to them that I could get by on my own without their judgment-laden assistance, and working for Mr. Lancaster was one of the few jobs I had found that paid enough for me to live a comfortable life.

Right now, that job was on the line, and I was going to have to do whatever I could to save it, even if it meant falling on my knees and begging.

I just hoped that I’d be able to get him to see reason.