My legs are trembling as I approach his office. I'm a nervous wreck, and the moment I feel my foot snag on the rug, I scream as I stumble three steps forward before collapsing on my face.
I lay there wishing the ground would rip open and engulf me completely. To say I am overcome with embarrassment is an understatement and for the second time within an hour, Aydem Buraks expensive oxford dress shoes stand before me.
He extends his hand, indicating that I should accept it, and I do. I make a conscious effort to ignore the warmth of his hand as it devours mine. And while he assists me in rising to my feet, I am unable to look him in the eyes as I express my gratitude.
"Thank you," I mumble in a whispering tone.
I take my hand away from his, running it down the front of my black pencil skirt, and inspect my shoes to ensure that the heel hasn't snapped. It was merely a little fall, but where I am concerned. Anything is possible.