┏━━━✦❘༻༺❘✦━━━┓

┗━━━✦❘༻༺❘✦━━━┛

The night started with the other assistants telling me, "If Demi doesn't drink tonight, then we aren't either!"

And I tried arguing. "Guys—"

"No, no, no!" Lucy yelled, already half tipsy. She's Logan's assistant. And she holds her liquor just like him. Barely. "It's not fair! Not fair, not fair, not fair! He works you too hard!" She grabbed my arm, stumbling. "You drink, we drink! It's a party! We won the game!"

"Here." I looked over at Amelia, holding out a gin and tonic for me. "Or here," she shrugged, holding another glass. "Gin versus rum. Your choice," she grinned.

I grabbed the rum. It makes me tipsy. And tonight, I'm tired of following his stupid rules. My stupid boss and his stupid rules.

In the two years, I've worked for him, he's never let me drink at an after-game party. God knows what it is. He makes me watch the bartender make his drink like a hawk because he's too paranoid but too lazy to come watch or even order it himself.

Tonight, I'm getting at least tipsy. I can't get wasted, but just a little, teeny, tiny bit tipsy. At least that's what I thought. But then I had one glass of rum, and another, and another. And then Vince pulled me down next to him and I couldn't hide the drunk, hazy look that I had on my face. I kept my hands in my lap, watching his glass, just waiting for him to finish the drink so I could take up to his room, throw him on the bed, and lock him in there. He is the devil, I'm telling you.

"Bye, beautiful," Cody slurred, waving at me and then leaving with Caroline.

Now it was just Christian, his assistant Maya, Michael and his assistant Amelia, and Vince and me. "Shall we all call it a night then?" Michael asked. Michael was only slightly tipsy.

Christian was drunk but not wasted. Maya stayed sober for the most part. She's a good assistant and I'm pretty sure she's half in love with Christian.

Then there's Amelia. She's pretty responsible, maybe the most responsible one. And I'm completely sure Michael is in love with her. She's tipsy at the moment. Maya led Christian out and Michael stood up, turning to Amelia. He nudged her knee. "Amelia?"

She hummed, her eyes closed.

He sighed and bent down, grabbing her arm and pulling her up. "Amelia," he sang, shaking her.

She opened her eyes and straightened up. "Sorry."

He watched with a smile before nodding slowly. "No problem. Shall we?"

She grabbed her purse and moved to leave but stumbled and grabbed his arm on instinct. He let her and guided her out, joining Christian and Maya in the elevator.

I blinked a few times, forcing my eyes to stay open. "Vince." I turned to him. He was practically lying on the couch. I looked down, feeling his arm around my waist. I sighed and stood up, pulling my purse across my body, throwing it behind me. He fell over, his head resting on the arm of the couch. "Oh no," I mumbled. I grabbed his shoulders and grunted, forcing him to sit up while struggling to maintain my balance. "Vince," I sang, sitting back down and shaking him lightly, slapping his cheek.

His eyes shot open and he took a look around. "Where am I?" he mumbled, his voice hoarse.

I rolled my eyes, standing up and stumbling. "Let's go. You finished that glass a long time ago."

He whined, grabbing my waist and resting his head on my stomach.

I froze, watching him as my stomach flipped. Again. Then again. I grabbed his shoulders, throwing him off and he fell back on the couch, half-asleep again.

He's just drunk, it's okay. He doesn't know what he's doing.

The last time he got wasted, luckily it was back home in Boston. I dropped him home and he was drinking on his own and then at two in the morning, my phone rang. It was him, of course. Crying. Sobbing. To the point where he couldn't breathe or talk. I still don't know what happened that night. He kept saying someone was hurting him, he kept asking me to save him, and I ended up driving to his apartment, finding him sitting on the floor by his bed, crying, still holding the phone with a bottle of whiskey. He doesn't know he did that and I don't plan to tell him.

It was the first and only time he was vulnerable with me and he was too drunk to know what he was doing. He doesn't need to know.

"Vince," I whined, kicking his leg. "Come on, let's go!"

He groaned but stood up slowly, stumbling. I grabbed his shoulders, steadying him while he grabbed my waist, falling into me. I blinked, staring at him. He looked down at me with a lazy gaze. It did things to me.

Bad things.

I watched as his brows furrowed in confusion while his eyes traveled across my face. "What?" I mumbled, steadying him again.

"They all say you're pretty," he slurred.

"Am I?" I chuckled softly, taking a look around at all the empty glasses. This is going to be one big bill tomorrow morning.

"Hmm," he nodded, leaning in closer, his nose brushing against mine before his lips grazed my cheek as he pulled me into a hug. "You are."

I fell back, almost falling on the table, barely managing to catch myself. "Vince," I sighed, pulling him away. "Let's go, please." He huffed as I grabbed his arm, pulling him with me to the elevator. I pressed the button to our floor and then staggered to our room. "Where are your keys?" I stuttered, tripping over my own feet, struggling to maintain my balance. I'm drunk.

He fished it out of his pocket, handing it to me.

I unlocked the door, closed it behind us, and rushed to the bed, letting him fall face-first. I sighed, catching my breath as I put my purse on the table and kicked my heels off. Now, tucking him in is the real task.

He rolled onto his back, scooting up on the bed on his own, making the job easier.

I emptied his pockets, leaving everything on the nightstand. Then pulled off his shoes. I can't do anything about the clothes, it's supposed to be inappropriate. I sat on the side of the bed, groaning loudly in exhaustion, thinking he was knocked out.

Then he grabbed me. His arm went around my torso as he pulled me back to lay down.

I fell back, mumbling, "Ah," as my head landed on his abs.

His hand came up, following my side. I stared at the ceiling while he trailed a single finger up my shoulder, to my collarbone, up the side of my neck and jaw, stopping at my chin. He grabbed my chin and turned my head in his direction, lifting his head and tucking one arm under it to look at me. I blinked, he blinked, and we just stared at each other for what felt like an eternity.

This felt weird. It felt good but weird. I knew where this was headed and it shocked me that neither of us seemed to want it to stop.

I sat up quickly. "I should go."

He clicked his tongue in frustration and grabbed my wrist, pulling me to sit back down. "I'm not done with you yet," he mumbled. I turned to look at him. He seemed to be in deep thought while he stared at me. Like he was about to make a crucial decision. His eyes fixed on my lips and we both knew what he was about to do. He's about to ruin everything.

And I kind of wanted him to.

The fangirl in me, the girl that admired Vince Hunter, the one who crushed hard on him was having a party right now. But assistant Demi Tiffany Vaughn was having a panic attack. I wanted him in the physical sense of the word. Who didn't? Really, who the hell didn't? But this could get us in trouble. This is a bad idea. "Vince..."

"You're pretty," he nodded.

"Don't," I warned halfheartedly.

He lifted a brow. "Why?" He tipped my chin up. "Who's going to tell on us?"

"You're making a mistake," I told him, my heart racing.

"So?" Drunk Vince equals reckless Vince. And we can't afford to be reckless.

But right now... we just don't care. I'm not fighting him off the way I should be, he's not holding back the way he should be either. We want it. We want it and the other one's here and it's... convenient. My dating and social life disappeared when I started working for Vince and he makes sure he doesn't have a dating life simply because he doesn't want one. It's been too long and he's Vince fucking Hunter.

I'd be dumb to say no. But I'd be even dumber to say yes.

"I should really go," I whispered.

He let go of my chin, letting his hand fall. "Go," he shrugged, nodding towards the door. "Leave then."

I scoffed, staring at him in disbelief. That's all he wants. A good lay. "You're such a dick," I laughed dryly, standing up while looking ahead. I took one step forward before he grabbed my wrist and pulled me down again, pulling hard enough that I turned to face him while kneeling on one knee, trying to hold myself up. "Now what do you—"

He grabbed the back of my neck, pulling my lips to his. I grabbed a fistful of his shirt as he kissed me harder, his lips moving against mine without any hesitation. He gave no fucks, just how he does with everything else. He didn't care that this was breaking the contract, that he could lose an assistant and I could lose my job. And surprisingly, neither did I.

He deepened the kiss and slowly lay down while putting one arm around my waist and pulling me forward to straddle him. He held onto the back of my leg while my legs stayed around him. I'm not pulling away.

I'm not pulling away, damn it. Pull away, Demi Tiffany Vaughn, right now!

No. I didn't pull away. I rested my arms around his neck, pulling him in closer while my fingers threaded through his hair. The hair every girl, me included, has imagined running her fingers through. Multiple times. And I get to do it. Multiple times.

His hand moved up my leg, finding my hips. My stomach felt like it would explode with butterflies when he began to push my hips, guiding them back and forth and I had a reality check. We shouldn't make this mistake because there's only one way out of it if we get caught. And I will lose... everything.

I stopped, pulling away to catch my breath. He took a few breaths before his lips moved to my neck, kissing and biting. "Vince..." I intended for his name to come out as a warning that could snap us both out of this lustful haze. But it came out as a breathless moan that made him smile.

He pulled away, looking at me. He chuckled softly, tucking my hair behind my ear. "That explains it."

I blinked in confusion, still catching my breath. "What?"

"Why I've imagined that moan before," he paused, smirking arrogantly. "Because I knew it would sound like that."

.

.

.

.

.