My Very Bad Day And All That Happened After

NALANI’S POV 

“You're fired,” Stan Brunello, the head of my team, said as soon as I walked into his office.

My head spun around to see if there was anyone else in there who he could have been talking to other than me.

But it was just me.

I could feel my brows creasing into a tight frown.

“Did you just say… I'm fired?” I asked. 

He didn’t even look up from his desk. 

“The missing pearls, Nalani,” he said smugly, leaning back into his chair. “We found them in your locker. There's no point denying it.”

I almost laughed.

“You're joking, right? I asked. “How's that even possible?”

Earlier, word spread through the team about a guest missing their pearls worth over forty-five thousand dollars.

I didn't think twice about it. 

Why would I?

I didn't take them.

I went on to clean the suite assigned to me until Stan called me here.

Surely, there was a mistake.

Footsteps sounded softly behind me and with them came a wave of Dixie’s floral scent.

Immediately, my face fell.

This was about her. 

Of course. 

Dixie, Stan's fiancée, had had it for me since the Christmas party three weeks ago. 

And it didn't really matter what actually happened. 

Stan tried to kiss me at the party. I pushed him away. 

Dixie walked in at that exact moment and she has been on a mission to ‘deal with me’ as she swore she would.

So, this…?

This was her revenge. 

She drew closer until she stood next to me. 

The corner of her mouth  curved into a devilish smirk and she blew chewing gum in my face.

“Wouldn't be your first time,” she said. “You just can't help touching stuff that isn't yours, huh?” 

I ignored her.

“Stan,” I said as calmly as I could, considering the anger already rising inside me. 

“You weren't that drunk,” I said. “So, I know you remember what happened. All you have to do is tell her the truth. You know I didn't steal anything.”

Who was I fooling?

He kept a straight face.

“Look,” he said. “No need to drag this matter. Just clean out your locker and report to security before leaving.” 

He spoke with the authority he always seemed to lack.

I couldn't believe my ears. 

This same Stan who couldn't muster the courage to ask me out directly, suddenly had an attitude toward me.

The more I stared at him, the hotter my anger boiled. 

I had two options.

I could fight the accusation and give Dixie a chance to mobilise the rest of the team against me.

I bet she couldn't wait for me to go down that path. 

Or… I could just walk away.

I had planned to work for two more months at the hotel before I'd quit and go for my internship. 

And I was counting on those final paychecks. 

I had only just paid off my student loan. And I had my ailing grandmother, Nana, back at home. 

It was risky to be out of a job now.

Dixie stepped in front of me, interrupting my thoughts. 

“I told you,” she said softly. “You crossed the line with me.”

I raised my gaze to meet hers just as she added,

“Guess it finally caught up with you.”

Her tone was slow and deliberate. 

God, I wanted to land a hot slap across her face just to reset the look she had on it.

Instead, I pressed my lips together in a tight hold, inhaling deeply.

I was so close to an outburst that tears threatened. 

But I held them back. 

Another word from me and they would flow like a busted dam.

It's one thing I hated about myself: I cried whenever I got really angry.

I could be sad and never shed a tear. But anger gets me there pretty fast.

And I wasn't about to give these two the satisfaction of watching me lose my cool.

After the party, Dixie had made sure everyone else hated me.

I had endured side talks and name calling until I stopped looking forward to coming to work.

Crying now would be like signing my defeat in her books.

Never.

To hell with this place.

I shot one final look at Stan and turned.

As I stormed out, my vision narrowed to the exit sign ahead.

The hallway blurred, my mind racing with thoughts of what I should have done, and how  much of a financial setback this would cause me.

Suddenly…

Bam!

I collided with a rock-solid chest, my momentum carrying us both backward.

“Aww,” I groaned, grabbing the side of my head.

Before I recovered, the owner of the chest stretched his hand towards the private elevator and rasped with a deep voice, “Open.”

That was when I looked at his face. 

My eyes grew wide once I recognized him.

Jordan Styles. 

The heir and acting-CEO of Empire Conglomerates. 

He literally owned the hotel. He was my boss’ boss.

I quickly turned away from him, automatically locking away my tears and assuming my housekeeping posture.

“Right away, Mr. Styles,” I said.

I reached for my keycard, then paused. 

Wait…

The private elevator didn’t answer to me. 

It answered to him.

My eyes darted to his face again.

“Sir, you have to…”

His body was bent over slightly and he groaned. 

“Mr. Styles?” I called.

Slowly, his gaze met mine, and a bit of tension hung in the air. 

His jaw was clenched hard. And in spite of the pain he seemed to be enduring, his eyes remained guarded. 

Before I could decide what to do, he slapped his hand on the hand scanner beside the elevator. 

The doors slid open and he stumbled in, turning to glare at me.

And as if I didn’t have enough troubles of my own to deal with, I jumped in, right after him.

As the doors closed behind me, I edged closer, my eyes scanning his face. 

“Sir…”

But he turned his body away from me sharply, shifting into one corner in the small space.

The movement was abrupt.

Too abrupt for someone who clearly needed help.

I've seen all kinds of guests display different characteristics in different states of drunkenness or when they got high. 

His gaze, which drifted past me was unfocused. 

I noticed his skin was reddening. Beads of sweat dotted his forehead, glinting in the soft light.

He yanked at his tie roughly, failing in his attempt to loosen it. 

Yeah. 

Something got him bad.

And whatever it was, he seemed unwilling to give up his control. 

Suddenly, my eyes fell on it. 

I saw what he was trying desperately to hide.

His arousal.

My breath caught in my throat, and my hand flew to my mouth to stop the gasp I felt coming.

My face burned. 

I didn't need anyone to tell me that.

I literally felt the flush.

But, I had to look again.

This wasn’t some sickness. 

It wasn’t alcohol.

Something had been done to him.

Whatever it was, it wasn't just making him weak.

It was stripping him of control. 

And I was trapped in the elevator alone with him.

Like this.

“Oh shoot,” I muttered.