I got dressed, packed up my stuff and went down to the area where we were gathering to grab a continental breakfast before hitting the road home. I’d opted to ride on one of the employee buses instead of flying—likely because I was feeling masochistic.

Between organizing the dismantling of exhibits and other items of business, I kept my eyes peeled for her. I caught glimpses of her a few times. It was hard to miss that startling pink-and-purple-streaked white hair, even at a distance.

I didn’t have a chance to see her again until we were on the bus. She sat a few rows back from me, across the aisle. I couldn’t take my eyes off her, her own eyes shaded behind impossibly huge, dark sunglasses. I’d bummed some medication off the concierge for my headache, so I wondered if she was still suffering from her hangover. She seemed to be avoiding my gaze, however, with her face pointed down and then a pillow shoved between her and the window, as if she meant to go to sleep during the four-hour ride to Orange County.

I sat in the front next to Jordan and the group of interns had apparently staked out the seats just behind us. I wasn’t happy about that and wished that Emilia had sat there instead. We needed to talk and maybe the bus wasn’t the best place for us to do it, but as time went on, I was getting more and more desperate to resolve the lingering issues between us.

I looked away, suddenly feeling guilty about last night, though not completely sure why. Last night hadn’t just been about needing her near me, needing to have sex with her—or anyone—after a dry spell. It had been more—I’d wanted control over her again. I’d wanted to take over and dominate. That’s where the aggression had come from. I’d needed to know—needed her to know—needed the world to know that she was mine.

Be there for her. Be her friend. Heath’s words struck me then, condemning me further. Had I been there for her last night? Or had she been there for me? I couldn’t completely condemn myself. She’d been a more-than-willing participant. Had she not been the one who’d ripped my shirt off? And then laid herself down, open to me, submissive? She’d wanted me to step in and take over. And I’d been glad to oblige.

The interns behind us were whispering amongst themselves a lot—and giggling. Four hours of that was going to get old really fast. I wished I could get up and sit with Emilia, but there were no available seats around her. I glanced around to make sure she wasn’t sitting near Dick and was happy to see he wasn’t even on this bus.

Emilia was sandwiched in pretty tightly and she appeared to be sleeping already. I kept my eyes fixed on her, hoping that it was just a matter of time—a short time—before we had this sorted out. I’d arrange for her to come back to my place by that evening. I was optimistic, I knew, but after the night we’d had together—and due, in big part, to my stubborn determination—I knew we would be getting back together soon. And I’d finally get to the bottom of what was going on with her.

“So, uh…that was some interesting dancing last night,” Jordan said to me with a significant look.

“Didn’t know I had it in me, did you?”

“Not sure the type of dancing you did back in your suite later on was terribly advisable, however.”

I turned and looked out the window, uncertain whether I was pissed that he knew (which meant that a lot of others probably knew, too), or comforted by the fact that he had my back. Jordan always had my back, but for some reason he had never been thrilled about my relationship with Emilia.

“Dude, I’m not here to nag. Believe me, I’m too dysfunctional myself to offer advice but…it seemed like you just were picking yourself up off the floor after she squashed your nuts the last time.”

“Thanks for the concern. But I’m a grown-up. I can handle my own shit.”

Jordan nodded. “Sure. Sure. I was just thinking about all the other shit going on. The company. The lawsuit.”

I looked back, about to reply, when someone tapped on my shoulder. “Adam,” said one of the interns behind me—the one with way too much blond hair for just one woman’s head. She flicked her voluminous mane over her shoulder and flashed a whole lot of white teeth in a wide smile. “Sorry to interrupt, but April and I have a bet and we need you to settle it for us.”

I glanced at Jordan, who had also turned around to inspect the bank of women who occupied the seats behind us. I remembered Emilia’s words in the elevator the night before, about how the interns talked about me. I also remembered the death glares she had shot them during their little interlude with the sunscreen before paintball. I swear, she looked like she would cut a bitch. I watched them warily. “How may I help?”