I let my head fall back against the arm of the couch and stare at the ceiling, guilt roiling at the pit of my gut. I should quit working at Bliss. That’s the right thing to do, after I’ve been a secret operative for Global. It’ll hurt like hell, leaving Roman, but how can I face him after this? The low-key job I’ve done here hasn’t been a bad one, but it hasn’t been stellar, either. And Roman deserves stellar.

He deserves more than stellar. He deserves someone’s whole heart and soul, and he has mine.

He has mine.

I sit bolt upright. Why am I doing all these mental gymnastics? I know how I feel about him. I know how I feel about the resort. Despite what I’ve done, I feel loyal. And in a week’s time, I can stop doing Connor’s bidding and just do my job instead. Connor would have no reason to out me if I fulfilled his contract, I think blearily. Who am I to him? Nobody.

I brush over the trackpad of my computer with purpose. Fuck Connor. I could do a good job now and be true to my heart, even if that sounds ridiculous. And if Roman asks me about it, I’ll come clean. No harm, no foul.

Besides...I don’t want to lose him. My heart wrenches at the possibility. I don’t have to lose him if I make up for lost time. What’s a few weeks of posting good-not-great pictures in the grand scheme of things? It’s nothing. I can more than make up for it if I stay for the summer.

And if I stay forever...

This’ll be a distant memory.

I flip through the photos to the last ones I downloaded. There—that’s the one. It’s just the waterfall, but with a few clicks I have a standout image. The water cascades sensually into the pool, the moonlight glistens...it’s golden. Connor won’t notice that I’m posting better images until it’s too late. There are two days until the party. This photo will go live now, with a sunny image in the morning, a hint of an attractive person, building to a crescendo with the party.

I load the photo into Instagram, then into the scheduling program. The rest of the social media sites will get the image over the next hour. Send. Done.

That feels better.

I swipe my hand over my eyes. Pride and fear and certainty roll together in my chest. I’m doing the right thing. I know it. I know it...

Sunlight stabs into my eyelids, and the moment I notice it is the moment I know I’m late for work. Shit. Shit. And my phone is ringing, somewhere near my...ass?