Chapter 2 The Morning After

June's POV

I opened my eyes, and the pounding headache of a vicious hangover immediately settled in behind my eyelids.

As my vision cleared, I froze. A heavy, muscular arm was draped possessively across my waist. I looked at the stranger sleeping peacefully beside me, and pure panic seized my throat. What had I done? I was the responsible girl. I didn't do one-night stands.

Carefully, I pinched his wrist and lifted his arm, attempting to slide out from beneath the silk sheets.

Before my feet could even hit the floor, a sharp, electronic blare pierced the quiet room. Six o'clock. I winced, wondering why a man who clearly owned a multi-million dollar luxury penthouse needed to wake up at the crack of dawn.

The annoying alarm kept ringing until the stranger stirred. He blinked against the morning light, his dark hair messy, looking entirely too attractive for someone who had just opened his eyes. He sat up, the sheet slipping down to reveal the hard, sculpted lines of his chest, and slapped the top of his phone to kill the noise.

His dark eyes tracked me across the room. I was currently caught mid-motion, desperately trying to step into my underwear without falling over. My face burned so hot it could have fried an egg.

"Going somewhere?" His voice was deep, laced with an early morning gravel that sent an unexpected, illicit shiver straight down my spine.

"Um, yes. Good morning," I squeaked, abandoning all grace as I scrambled around the floor to grab Ella's discarded micro-skirt. "I have to get home. My brother is probably losing his mind, and I have a million things to do."

He chuckled, leaning back against his plush pillows, entirely unbothered by my frantic energy. "No coffee first? I make a mean espresso."

"I'm really not a coffee person. Or a morning person. Or a... one-night stand person," I muttered. I shoved the dress over my head and scanned the room for my keys, refusing to look him in the eye. I was a complete, unpolished disaster. "This was great. Really. You were great. But I need to run."

"So, there will be no next time?" An amused smirk played on his lips. "You usually vanish on people before the sun is fully up?"

"Let's just keep it as a beautiful, anonymous memory," I pleaded, finally spotting my heels and shoving them into my purse. "Goodbye, stranger."

Before he could answer, I bolted out of his bedroom and down his private elevator. The moment I hit the pavement outside, my stomach dropped as I pulled out my phone and saw three missed calls from Ryan. Panic flared, but I quickly typed out a text: 'Hey Ry! I crashed at Ella's place. Her mom managed to pull some major strings and snagged me a last minute emergency interview at Harrington Group today! We're doing heavy portfolio prep right now. Wish me luck!'

A minute later, his reply came through: 'Good. Don't waste this second chance. Call me when it's over.'

I let out a breath of pure relief and hailed the first cab I could find. Four hours later, I was standing in the towering, glass and steel lobby of Harrington Architecture & Development Group. Ella's family connections had worked an absolute miracle. After missing my scheduled interview the day before, her mother had managed to slide my portfolio into a last minute slot for their highly competitive Graduate Development Program. I had spent the last three hours scrubbing the smell of tequila off my skin, covering my dark circles with heavy concealer, and squeezing into a borrowed navy pantsuit that felt entirely too tight across my hips.

"June Brooks?" a receptionist called out, gesturing toward a massive set of frosted double doors. "The panel is ready for you. Third floor, conference room B."

I swallowed the lump of anxiety in my throat, smoothed down my jacket, and stepped inside. The room was breathtaking, all sleek mahogany tables and floor to ceiling windows overlooking the city skyline. Three people sat at the long evaluation table. A middle-aged woman with a stern bun, an older gentleman in a tweed jacket, and... My heart stopped dead in my chest. Every drop of blood drained from my face.

Sitting right in the center, looking immaculate in a tailored charcoal suit and a crisp white shirt, was the stranger from last night.

His dark eyes locked onto mine, widening for a fraction of a second in absolute shock before his features instantly smoothed into a professional, unreadable mask.

"Welcome, Miss Brooks," the stern woman said, completely oblivious to the silent cardiac arrest I was experiencing. "I am Director Vance, this is Mr. Sterling, and this is Ethan Harrington, our Executive Director of Project Acquisition."

Ethan Harrington. The name echoed in my brain like a bomb. He wasn't just a wealthy stranger from a club. He was a Harrington.

"Good... good morning," I stammered, my voice cracking slightly as I sank into the lone chair facing the panel.

Ethan leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table and clasping his hands together. A small, dangerous smirk played at the corner of his lips. "Let's begin, Miss Brooks. Your portfolio looks impressive, but I see you missed your scheduled appointment yesterday. Care to explain why stability and punctuality seem to be an issue for you? We take corporate dedication very seriously here."

The jerk. He was playing with me. He knew exactly why I had missed it.

"I had a sudden... personal emergency yesterday, Mr. Harrington," I replied. I forced my voice to steady, holding his gaze with all the defiance I could muster. "But I assure you, I am entirely focused on my career. My design philosophy revolves around creating functional, emotional spaces within strict structural boundaries."

"Fascinating," Ethan murmured, his gaze dropping to my lips for a terrifying second. "Let's see if your execution matches your philosophy."

For the next twenty minutes, the interview was a masterclass in absolute torture. Ethan didn't let up. He asked sharp, rapid-fire questions about land feasibility, zoning laws, and spatial layouts. I answered the best I could, my naturally bubbly personality occasionally cutting through the terror, but my brain was screaming the entire time. I slept with a Harrington. I had wild, uninhibited sex with Ethan Harrington.

"Thank you, Miss Brooks," Director Vance finally said, closing her folder. "We will review your performance and notify you of our decision."

I stood up so fast my chair nearly tipped over. I nodded to the panel, completely avoiding Ethan's burning gaze, and practically sprinted out of the building. By the time evening rolled around, I was a nervous wreck, pacing the floor of our small apartment. The comforting scent of garlic and simmering marinara sauce drifted from the kitchen, where Ryan was busy throwing together dinner.

The front door clicked open, and Ella and Ivy walked in, carrying a box of pastries. "Tell us everything!" Ella demanded, throwing her designer bag onto the couch. "How did the emergency interview go?"

"I ruined it. It was a complete disaster," I groaned, throwing my face into a sofa pillow. "I'm never getting that job. Never."

Ryan walked out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on a dishtowel. His strict, protective gaze softened just a fraction as he looked at my slumped posture. "June, stop stressing yourself out. You're a brilliant designer. If they don't see that, it's their loss."

"But Ry, you've been working so hard for me..."

"Hey," Ryan interrupted, his voice firm but filled with love. "I didn't sacrifice my education for you to sit here and cry over one company. We are not in a rush, nor am I complaining. If this one doesn't work out, we find another. Now, sit tight. I'm going to finish making this pasta so you girls can eat."

He headed back into the kitchen, leaving the three of us in the living room. The moment the door swung shut, I grabbed Ella and Ivy by their arms and dragged them into my tiny bedroom, slamming the door behind us.

"What is wrong with you?" Ivy asked, laughing at my manic behavior. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

"Worse," I whispered fiercely, clutching my head. "You remember the hot stranger from the club last night? The one-night stand?"

"Yeah? The one whose name you didn't even get?" Ella smiled, raising an eyebrow.

"I got his name today," I hissed, my eyes wide with panic. "He was sitting on the interview panel. He is Ethan Harrington. The Executive Director of the entire acquisition department!"

Ella's jaw dropped. Ivy gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. "No way!" Ella shrieked. "You are lying!"

"I am not lying! I walked in, and there he was, sitting in a three-piece suit, asking me about architectural blueprints after he spent the night ripping my clothes off!" I fell back onto my bed, groaning in agony. "It was so awkward. He completely grilled me. There is no way in hell they are hiring a girl who ran out of an executive's penthouse at six in the morning. He literally asked me about my punctuality!"

"Oh my god, June," Ivy whispered, a mix of horror and amusement on her face. "That is a literal movie plot. What are the odds? Do you think he'll tell anyone?"

"If he does, I am moving to another country," I muttered into my mattress.

Before Ella could launch into a million questions, the phone in my hand suddenly vibrated. A sharp, rhythmic buzz made all three of us freeze. I looked down at the screen. It was an email notification from the Harrington Group human resources department. My fingers shook as I tapped it open.

Dear Miss Brooks, We are pleased to inform you that you have been selected for the Harrington Graduate Development Program as a Junior Interior Designer. You are scheduled to resume in exactly one month.

I stared at the screen, my heart hammering violently against my ribs. "What does it say? Don't leave us hanging!" Ella demanded, leaning heavily over my shoulder. "I... I got the job," I whispered, blinking rapidly as if the words would disappear from the screen.

Things were actually beginning to look up.