My eyes cut to Jordan, who now had his head bent toward the blonde, peering at her through narrow eyes as if deep in concentration. He grabbed another drink off the tray, replacing his empty glass. I continued to watch them as I set up an appointment with the journalists and then waited patiently for the awkward-appearing conversation to end. When Jordan placed a hand on the woman’s arm—below the tattoo that matched his—she gestured toward him with her free arm and nodded. He smiled and pulled away.

Their conversation appeared to have been pleasant, if uncomfortable. He stepped away. His stiff smile evaporated the moment his back was turned, and he headed straight for me.

“We’re all done here,” he muttered as he walked past me. Cynthia watched Jordan go, a look of deep regret in her eyes. What the hell was that?

I spun and followed Jordan out the ballroom door, struggling to catch up to him as he took long strides toward the elevator.

“Hold up,” I called.

Without looking at me, he held an arm out to keep the elevator doors open until I stepped inside. He followed after me and pressed the button for the penthouse. As soon as the doors slid shut, he let out a breath and slumped against the back wall, running a hand through his hair and watching the numbers climb as we ascended. I watched him.

“You okay? You look a little shaken up.”

His cheek bulged where he clenched his jaw. He stuffed his hands in his pockets but said nothing to me, like I hadn’t asked him a thing.

Frowning, I turned back to face the door. Clearly, he didn’t want to talk about it. Fine. He could be that way. He was the Beast, after all. And flirty, gorgeous and charming or not, you never knew when a beast would turn on you. I vowed I wouldn’t become collateral damage for whatever eruption was about to take place.

The elevator dinged and then opened. I preceded him to our door, fumbling in my clutch for the card key. He came up beside me and swiped his instead.

I walked past him but hesitated near the door. Maybe I should hang out to make sure he was all right and then go barricade myself in my room. I’d never seen him this out of sorts before, except for maybe my first day working for him—the day all the shit had hit the fan with the sex video.

Jordan strode in past me with purpose and headed straight for the mini-bar. He didn’t even hesitate before opening a bottle of Jack Daniels and pouring it into a glass. Whiskey neat. Oh shit.

“Jordan…” I said as he lifted the glass of amber liquid to his lips. His eyes darted to mine and he paused with the glass at his lips. “You wanna talk about this?”

He hesitated only a minute before slamming the untouched glass down on the nearest table and moving to the living room, where he shoved his hands in his pockets and paced.

“No, not really.”

“Okay. Do you want to practice your talk?”

“No, not really,” he repeated in that same monotone. He stood there staring at the glass as if it held the answers to all of the world’s problems.

“Drinking that probably isn’t going to help. Not really.”

His brow went up. “Yeah, it actually will. And after, I want to chase it down with another one.”

Slowly, I walked toward him as he watched me with brooding eyes. “But you vowed no alcohol. And so did I. And I’d really like a drink right now, too.”

“Christ, we sound like we’re at an AA meeting. I also vowed I wasn’t going to be a serial manwhore, but all these vows are getting me is way too sober and sexually frustrated.”

I felt a rush inside my chest—a surge of happiness, perhaps—to hear about Jordan’s vow. I’d been wondering if he’d followed through on those sexts that he’d received. Or the Snapchat propositions, or any of the other ways in which women did not hesitate to throw themselves at him. It must have taken a lot of willpower and determination on his part to turn them down.

I frowned.

“What?” he said.

“Just curious about your vows of sobriety and chastity. Are you trying to join a monk order or something?”

He clenched his jaw. “Feels like it sometimes.”

He strode over and snatched up the glass of whiskey, then flipped on the fireplace switch and sank onto the couch. Silence hung in the air, but I didn’t want to pester him with another question. I didn’t want to let him off the hook, either.

He held the glass of whiskey between his open knees, swirling it and watching the play of light on the liquid. Slowly, I approached and settled beside him.

He didn’t look up but took a deep breath and started talking. “After the fuck-up with the video, I just had this epiphany, I guess. That and—well, it’s actually kind of weird, and if you ever breathe a word of this to him, I will utterly deny it. But watching everything Adam went through with Mia was a learning experience for me. It changed him. I think it was a good change.” He took another breath and then tilted his head with a shrug. “I didn’t like her at first. She reminded me of…someone.”