My Very Bad Day And All That Happened After

I could hear Nana’s voice in my head:

“Sweetie, if you spent two seconds thinking about what you're about to do before doing it, you might save yourself a whole bunch of trouble.”

I cursed myself inwardly. My heart raced.

Get out, get out, get out!

Now!

But my feet stayed on the spot.

This was Jordan Styles.

Mr. Perfect.

He lived in a world of his own, totally unreachable.

Whenever I saw him in the hallway, he was always in his tailored suits, straight-faced, and having a controlled posture.

Rumors had it that he never granted interviews because he didn’t like media attention.

Those of us who worked on the penthouse floor knew his privacy was a huge deal.

So, I couldn't just leave him.

Before I could rethink my decision, I heard myself ask cautiously,

“Mr. Styles, do you need any help? Should I call...”

“No!” he rasped.

“Stop the elevator.”

I did, but stayed close to the buttons.

Even a perfect man couldn't be trusted like this.

I took a defensive posture, my fists ready to do some damage.

I swear, if he tries to grab me, I would kick his butt, and answer questions later.

He caught my reaction and simply turned away.

Well, I tried.

“Uh… I’ll just go,” I said, my finger already going for the button.

His head snapped up.

“NO!” This time, the word tore from him.

I jumped, my heart pounding.

His eyes met mine, briefly but long enough for me to see the raw humiliation there.

And a warning.

“Don’t leave,” he said in a quieter voice. “And don’t look.”

“You think I want to look?” I gasped, the heat in my face rising again.

I shook my head, gesturing with my hand.

“I don't even wanna be here. I'll leave and this never happened.”

“Don't!” he warned.

I reached for the button regardless.

“DO. NOT. LEAVE!” he warned again.

My eyebrows shot up, a sharp retort rising to my lips.

Who the hell did he think he was talking to?

Housekeeping?

“Uh,” I said. “You can't make me stay.”

“Forget the uniform. I don't work here anymore, and there's no way in hell I'm spending another second stuck here with you… like this.”

I punched the button to open the doors, saying,

“The best I can do is… call security.”

The doors began to open.

“Help me,” he murmured almost inaudibly, but I heard him clearly.

The way he said it…

I sighed.

“How am I supposed to do that?”

“Don't let anyone see me like this,” he answered.

I frowned.

“Shouldn't you have remained in your suite if you wanted privacy?”

He clenched his fists until his knuckles turned white.

“Damn it,” he cursed under breath.

His face contorted, his breaths becoming slower and heavier.

“O-okay, okay,” I said, pushing the buttons that closed the doors again.

I better not regret this.

I searched my brain for possible solutions.

An idea came fast.

“I think I can help you, but you can't lose your shit and pounce on me, okay?” I said.

“Not that I'll let you,” I added before he could even answer.

“I know self defense. And I got a pretty mean kick. Don't make me show you. I'm not playing.”

He only nodded.

“Cool.”

I pushed the button for the twelfth floor.

I faced forward, but stayed alert.

“There should be a couple of vacant suites on the twelfth floor,” I informed him.

He dipped his chin once.

The silence was awkward.

My heart pounded like Jerry's, when Tom had him cornered, in the cartoon show from my childhood.

When the doors finally opened, I let out a slow breath.

Sticking my head out first, I looked up and down the hallway.

Thankfully, it was empty.

I turned to him.

“We're clear," I said. "If we can avoid the cameras, you should be fine.”

He straightened.

I pulled out my handkerchief from my pocket and drew closer to him.

“I'm gonna put this over your head, okay?”

He jerked his head away, frowning.

I rolled my eyes.

“Oh please,” I scoffed. “It's clean. It's either this or you may as well smile for the cameras. I believe you already know how good they are.”

His eyes pinned me, cold and accusing, before he lowered his head enough for me to lay it on.

Afterward, I offered my shoulder.

His muscles tensed.

“Mr. Styles,” I said calmly.

“I can help you get into one of these suites, but I can't stop anyone from showing up and finding you here. We got a clear hallway. But we need to move now.”

I paused before adding,

“If it helps, think of me as a male friend. Or… a crutch.”

“Mm-hm,” I said, nodding. “Definitely a crutch.”

This time, when his eyes met mine, they didn't look away as other times.

A little bit of warmth had crept in, softening his gaze.

“We good?” I asked.

He shifted and leaned on me, his weight almost crushing me.

I staggered.

“Okay,” I said.

“Easy there, Captain Muscles.”

His body felt warm through his shirt.

A whiff of his cologne hit me.

“Ready?”

“Mm,” he hummed.

We kept our heads down. I half-dragged him out of the elevator.

“Just so you know,” I muttered while straining beneath his crushing weight as we went.

“This is the second worst day of my life. And I bet I'm the only employee in the world who has to keep working after getting fired for being a slut and a thief.”

“What?” he croaked.

“Uh-huh,” I went on. “The judge and jury are sleeping with each other. One's a coward, the other, a Jezebel. So, you can imagine my fate.”

When we reached the suite I had chosen, I opened it. We stumbled in and I heeled the door shut.

“Sit,” I said, breathing heavily.

He sank onto the bed.

I walked to the fridge.

“I'll get you some water first.”

I grabbed a bottle of water, opened it and passed it to him.

He emptied everything into his mouth, crushing the bottle as he gulped.

Some water spilled on his shirt.

The sight made me feel sorry for him.

“You should lie down for a while.”

He laid down with back toward me before I finished speaking.

“Great," I muttered, staring at his broad back. "Now what?”

“I'm gonna take off your tie and shoes, okay?” I said after a while, “You may feel better without them.”

He didn't answer.

I took off his shoes first.

He had slender long feet, covered in socks that looked brand new.

Then, I went for his tie.

The last thing I wanted was for my touch to trigger him.

His eyelids slowly closed.

I began.

Very carefully.

“You're doing great," I said.

"Deep breaths. One at a time.”

Whatever it took to keep him calm, right?

My fingers brushed the side of his neck lightly, unintentionally.

He drew in a slow breath and his eyes fluttered open.

I froze, noticing for the first time how blue his eyes were.

He reached out, smiling lustily as he brushed my cheek.

“You're… beautiful.”

Uh-oh.