12. Hurt

Rosalie

Nicholas looks up in surprise when I walk in, a frown marring his handsome face as his gaze roams over my attire. I look down at myself, taking in the jeans and t-shirt I’m wearing, embarrassment rendering me speechless for a moment. I can count the times I’ve been around him in casual clothing on one hand. I never compromise on my professionalism, and neither does he.

He crosses his arms and leans back in his seat, his eyes on mine. There’s something captivating about Nicholas Sinclair. He has this habit of making women feel like they have his full attention, and I’m not immune to it either, despite my best attempts to resist him.

"Rosalie, good evening."

"Good evening, sir." I hope my tone doesn't expose my lack of confidence and the fact I'd been crying on my way here. "I had no idea anyone was here tonight," I add.

"Yeah, I couldn't sleep so I decided to come here and get some work done."

"Oh, yeah me too." There's a short awkward silence, "I'll be in my office." I tell him