In the end, he actually tied me up and dumped me in the guest room.
What happened next? Well, I’ll leave that up to your imagination.
After watching all three videos, I was equal parts mortified and relieved. At least there wasn’t any footage of him helping me shower or change clothes—otherwise, I might have just died right there from embarrassment.
“So, you’re saying,” I stammered, my face bright red, swallowing hard as I tried to confirm, “last night was just one big misunderstanding? Nothing actually happened, right?”
Elliot’s eyes went cold. He grabbed me by the back of the neck and shoved me out of the bedroom, slamming the door in my face. “Keep dreaming.”
I stared at the slammed door, burning with humiliation and anger.
I went back to the guest room, packed up my stuff, and said goodbye to Marian.
So much for breakfast—my stomach was still empty.
Elliot’s place was a stand-alone villa, all sharp lines and black, white, and gray. The front yard was all stone and concrete, with a few potted white magnolias. The weather was chilly, so the leaves looked even darker and glossier.
I walked out of the yard, following the path. The farther I went, the more familiar everything seemed.
Ten minutes later, I realized I was standing right in front of my apartment building.
So, basically, I lived in the same neighborhood as the big boss.
Which meant that rainy night, I’d totally imagined things—he could’ve just gone straight back home, no trouble at all.
Looking back, I can’t even tell if he set me up or if I just threw myself at him. It’s like he laid out a trap, and I practically begged him to catch me.

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