Page 18 of Not Safe for Work

“Yeah,” I say weakly.

“Should we wrestle for who gets the bed?” he asks, and maybe it’s the long travel day and the stress of sharing a room with Rafe Gallagher, but I nearly burst into laughter at the unexpected quip. He never jokes with me. Is he trying to be… charming?

I cram the urge back into my throat, exhaling an undignified snort that I’ll be revisiting with horror in my head again and again. It will be a cold day in hell before I laugh at one of Rafe Gallagher’s jokes.

“This is my room, so I get the bed,” I say.

“How is this your room any more than it’s mine?”

“Belinda booked the suite for me.”

He gives me a side-eye, and I have to hand it to him—the man’s side-eye is so flawlessly executed that I’ve never felt more side-eyed in my entire life. “Yeah, I’m still not entirely sure why my father agreed to that. This must be costing the company a fortune.”

“Your father,” I say with renewed hope, wondering why this hadn’t already occurred to me. “You can stay with him!”

Rafe’s eyes narrow. “I’m not staying with him.”

The menace in his voice is so… final that I resist the urge to argue.

I blink at him and he blinks at me.

“Then I’m definitely taking the bed.” I cross the suite to grab one of my suitcases. I deliver it to my room and then march back out for the second as Rafe tracks my every movement.

This would have been so much more dramatic with just one.

With my shoulders thrown back, I wheel the rest of my luggage behind me.

“Fine, I’ll take the sofa,” Rafe says. “But you owe me a big, massive, epic favor, Malik. It’s going to be some—”

I slam the door, cutting off whatever he was planning to say next.

Chapter Five

After I call my parents to let them know that I’ve arrived safely, I immediately text Molly.

Me: Belinda screwed up and booked us ONE room. And there is only one bed.

Molly: Us who?

Me: Rafe!

Molly: OMG. Where are you sleeping?

Me: He’s taking the couch.

Molly: Try not to kill him, okay? I can’t bail you out from Chicago.

Me: I promise nothing.

Molly: I’ll come visit when you’re in prison. At least orange is hot on you.

Me: Thanks, you’re a good friend.

Molly: Go have fun! Remember, you’re finding someone gorgeous to have a vacation fling with.

Me: It’s not a vacation.

Molly: You know what I mean.