A One Night Stand With My Boss

49

Mr. Connor, wake up.” Camila’s voice was soft as she tried to rouse him.

Connor’s eyes snapped open, his gaze fixating on the neatly dressed Camila as confusion washed over him.

His mind crashed. Was it a dream? But it felt so real,

The stubbom physical reaction he still felt added a shade of embarrassment. He bent his knees slightly and slowly turned his back to Camila. Pulling the blanket over his head, he let out a hoarse, parched voice. “Please, step out for a moment.”

“Sure.”

Camila sensed something off about Connor today, though she couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was. She just felt he was acting strangely.

After she gently closed the door, Connor yanked the blanket off and took deep breaths. He chided himself for having such a dream, and felt a lingering sense of unfulfillment.

This had never happened before. Was it because of he slept with her before? Both in his dream and in reality, it was the same person.

After a moment, he texted Camila before getting up. Locking his room, he entered the bathroom, turned on the shower, and let the cold water cascade down as he leaned against the tile wall.

The cold water hit his skin, causing him to shiver. He clenched his eyes shut, the water streaming down his thick brows, tracing the line of his high nose, and flowing over his tightly closed lips, cooling the heat within him gradually.

Camila glanced at her watch. It was already 8:40 AM, and Connor hadn’t emerged yet. She walked to the bedroom and gently tried the door.

It was locked? What was Connor up to?

She knocked softly, and minutes passed with no response.

“Mr. Connor locked the door,” Camila said to David. Content protected by Nôv/el(D)rama.Org.

“Locked?”

David also found it strange. Connor usually was dressed and ready by now, even if he was running late. He frowned and said, “Could he be sick?”

“Maybe, his voice was really raspy this morning. Does he have a cold?”

“It’s nearly 8:50 AM. Something’s off. I’ll go find the key.” David was getting anxious. It was the first time in years that Mr. Connor was

late.

Upon obtaining the key, David opened the bedroom door. Connor was fastening the last button of his shirt.

“Mr. Connor, are you feeling unwell? Should I call Dr. Adams?” David looked concerned.

“No need, I’m fine.” Connor donned his suit jacket and headed out, facing away as he passed Camila.

Camila, unaware of his discomfort, followed him.

Connor passed the dining table, where the food lay untouched, his brow furrowing in displeasure.

In the elevator, Camila couldn’t help but feel that there was a chill emanating from Connor.

“Didn’t I ask you to have breakfast first?”

Camila was puzzled. This morning he had only asked her to step out. When had he mentioned breakfast?

“I must have misheard.”

“I sent you a message.”

Camila checked her phone and indeed found a message from Connor. “Sorry, I often get spam messages. I didn’t notice.”

Connor closed his eyes. “I’ll have Alan send my contact to you.”

“Alright.”

Throughout the ride, Camila could sense that Connor was in a bad mood, not even sparing her a glance. Had she offended him somehow? Could it be something she said or did last night while drunk?

Her memories of the previous night were fragmented. She only remembered bits and pieces. Connor had taken her home. Once at home, she had crashed on her bed, falling asleep without even changing or removing her makeup.

Back at the office, she discreetly called the driver to ask if anything had happened last night.