by Ava Harrison
“You’re an ass.”
“You really are screwed.”
“Lynn,” I warn.
“Fine. I won’t say anything else.”
“Can we change the topic now? What are you ordering? I’m buying today,” I offer.
“What? No, you don’t have to do that.”
“I’ve been working at a hotel for eight days already. That’s eight days that I’ve gotten free lunch. I think I can afford to buy yours today.”
Lynn grins. “Well, I’m not complaining. So, eight days already, huh? How’s it going with dumpster man being the boss?” she belts out.
I cringe. Does she really have to be so loud? And here?
“Shh.” I shake my head back and forth, and her eyes widen. “You’re so loud. Plus, this really isn’t a conversation to have here.” I know I mentioned it first, but in hindsight, that was dumb of me. “A lot of employees eat here when they want to leave the hotel.” I look around, but no one I recognize is here.
“He’s a miserable bastard,” I whisper. “That guy changes his moods more often than I change my underwear. Way more.”
“Have you talked about what happened?”
I scrunch my nose. “We did. Briefly.” Remembering our first encounter has me going rigid. “But it didn’t go well.”
“Oh, yeah,” she says. “Why’s that?”
The waitress chooses this exact moment to return with our food. Neither of us eats as Lynn just looks at me impatiently, waiting for my answer, her fork tapping on her plate as she waits.
“He’s married.”
With that, she drops her fork on the plate and the sound echoes around me like a freight train. My face warms, and I want to hide from her scrutiny.
“What the actual fuck! Are you serious?”
“I wish I wasn’t.” I push my hands through my hair, pulling at the roots. “It’s all too much.”
“What did you do?”
“What the hell could I do? I yelled. He yelled back. In the end, I conceded because as scary as he is when he’s angry, Karen Michelle is even worse.”
“Wow. I don’t envy you, girl.”
“Thanks,” I say dryly. “Anyway, you can’t breathe a word of this, Lynn.”
“Promise.” She chews on her lip. “Have you asked anyone about him? Does he cheat on his wife often?”
“I thought about it, but the last thing I need is for Mr. Lancaster to figure out that I’m asking around about him. He’ll be even madder than before. Plus, I don’t need anything fishy getting around to his wife. She works here too from what I’ve gathered.”
“Oh shit. It’s too much. Just remember, you won’t be here forever. You’re enjoying it, right? Other than the crazy boss drama?”
I consider the question. As much as me and my “crazy” boss don’t get along, I do like the actual work.
“Yeah, I do like it here.”
“You still want to get into marketing after this? Or do you like the hotel business now?”
I smile. “I still think marketing is the right job for me, but I’m liking the hotel business now. Who knows, maybe I can get a good recommendation and all my time here and having to endure hell will be worth it.”
“Way to remain positive. You sound more mature already.”
I stick my tongue out at her just to prove I’m still the sister she’s always loved.
I fill the silence by lifting my fork. After taking a few bites, Lynn groans in delight.
“If I worked across the street, I’d be here every day. No wonder you haven’t quit yet. This food is amazing. Better than any sex a Lancaster could perform.”
“Har, har, har. Really funny, but yeah. It’s amazing, isn’t it? I don’t come here often, though. The food at the hotel is ridiculous. Oh, there’s Jared.” I wave through the glass window as he walks down the block.
“He’s cute,” Lynn says.
“He is. And he’s a good guy. The two of us get along pretty well.”
“And? Anything else?” She leans forward onto the table and smiles.
“What? You mean anything between us?”
“Well, yeah. He’s cute. You’re cute. Come on, man.”
I laugh. “Definitely not. He knows he’s cute. And he’s not my type.”
“Oh, yeah? Who’s your type, exactly?”
I shrug. “Now, that’s something I don’t know. But it’s not Jared, that’s for sure.”
We’re almost finished with our lunch when I see Grant walking down the street toward us. My heart starts pounding in my chest. Please don’t come here. Unfortunately, he does. He pulls the door open, and when he steps inside, he spots me. He narrows his eyes, and I meet his stare. Neither of us says hello. He walks in the opposite direction to a table on the other side of the restaurant. He’s with two other men that I figure are part of the new hotel. I saw in the calendar earlier that he had a meeting to attend, but I didn’t recognize the names, and he obviously decided to change the location because I would have never come here if he’d noted this restaurant.
“Oh, good,” I say. “Mr. Lancaster is only starting his meeting now, and my lunch hour is almost up. Which means I get at least an hour of peace. I work better without him there watching what I do.”
“Hang on a second. That guy who just walked in . . . He’s your boss? He’s the guy you kissed? He’s Lancaster?”
“Speak softly!” I hiss. I look around, but nobody is listening.
“Sorry, sorry. But seriously, that’s the guy?” Lynn asks.
“Yes,” I groan.
“He’s freaking gorgeous, and I hate to break it to you, but he really hates you. What’s that all about?”
“Thanks, Lynn. Ever considered becoming a therapist? You have such a way with words.” I shift uncomfortably in my seat.
“Do you like him?”
“What? No!” I move back in my seat and cross my arms over my chest.
“Oh my God, Bridge. You know you can’t go there again. Right?”
I can feel my face warming. Damn my pale face! “No. Obviously. God, you’re making me blush for no reason. I don’t like him. I actually hate him. I thought we covered that. He’s emotionally unstable, and I definitely don’t like him.”
“Then why are you blushing?”
“Because I blush easily, you know that. It means nothing.”
“No matter what, you sure have some good eye candy there for you.”
I peek at where Grant is sitting and try not to get caught staring. He sits tall and assured, owning the room with his very presence. The meeting must be going well because he appears to be more relaxed than I’ve seen him since that night. As I watch his mouth move, I’m reminded of the kiss. I sigh, musing at how he’s easily one of the most handsome men I’ve ever seen in my life. At that thought, his eyes meet mine. Neither of us turns away, and for one brief moment, the hostility seems to waver. In its place appears to be regret and . . . longing? He turns away, leaving me disappointed once again. There’s nothing there but hatred, and I’d do best to remember that.
“Earth to Bridget. You can stop staring at the boss now. It’s getting weird.”
I turn my eyes to my sister and roll them for good measure. “Tell me everything about you and Carson.”
Hopefully hearing about my sister and her perfect boyfriend will put all thoughts of Grant and that damn kiss out of my mind.
That fucking bitch.
I pace my office. After my lunch meeting yesterday, I met with both my lawyer and the private investigator I’d hired to look into Chelsea. I never went back to the office. Instead, I surprised Isabella by picking her up and taking her to the Museum Of Natural History. Seeing her eyes widen with wonder at the giant whale exhibit made me forget all the shit I’ve been dealing with at work, but today I can’t avoid it. The goal I’ve been dreading just came. One phone call, followed by copies of Chelsea’s emails has me fuming. This shit keeps getting worse and worse. I need her gone already. Not trying to take ove
r and ruin shit. I thought we’d reached an accord. Found a way to coexist. But boy, was I wrong. And like the idiot I’ve been for the last few years, I’ve once again grown complacent. She did her thing. I did mine. It worked. Until I finally fucking looked at her emails and call logs. It had never stopped. I just stopped looking close enough.
Not only is she messing with my life, but she’s still dragging my brother into this clusterfuck. The fact she had Bridget hired to spy on my brother is ridiculous. I’ve never even heard Bridget speak of Spencer. Chelsea has gone too far.
We are done. We might not get along—fuck, I might hate her—but in business, we always saw eye to eye—until recently. But this . . .
This I can’t forgive.
I can’t pretend this never happened.
She directly went against my orders. Without a second thought, I throw open my door and march down the hall and to the elevator, once on Chelsea’s floor I barrel into her office. She lifts her head as I enter and plasters on her sadistic smile.
“What’s your angle, Chelsea?”
“You’ll have to be more specific.”
“Don’t play coy with me. I know you’re up to no good with Bridget’s recruiter.”
“You’re on a first name basis now, are you? Is she officially your side-piece?”
I slam my fist down on the desk, causing Chelsea to flinch. Good. “Don’t you ever talk about her like that again. Do you understand?”
“You are sleeping with her.”
“I’m not.” I seethe.
She narrows her eyes and begins a steady tapping of her long nails on the desk. “If you’re not sleeping with her, why the hell do you care what I say about her? She’s a temp. A very young temp.”
“I don’t need you to tell me any of this. She’s my employee. That’s all there is to it. She isn’t part of your game, and you won’t pull her into it. Are we clear?”
“Crystal.”
Without another word, I turn on my heel and stalk out of my wicked wife’s lair. She’s vile, and being in the same room with her is enough to choke the air right out of a person.
Between Chelsea driving me insane and Bridget in my space all the time, I don’t know how I’ve made it through the last few days of hell. Every day I grow angrier.
I can’t help but want Bridget. We’ve barely spoken, but just being in the same airspace as her makes me crazy. The visceral reaction I have to her is a workplace hazard. It’s like a particular part of my body doesn’t realize I can’t touch her. But every time she saunters into the room and looks at me with her big blue eyes and full lips, I want to push her against the wall and finish what we started in the alley. Maybe it’s just been too goddamn long since I got laid. Or even touched someone. It’s been at least four years, but I know it’s not that.
It’s just her.
Kissing Bridget, touching her, unleashed a beast I’d buried deep inside me. Now it can’t be quenched, and since there’s nothing I can do about it, I’m just fucking angry about it. Angry that she’s here to tease me, not that she knows she is. But with every sway of her hips, that’s exactly what she’s doing—teasing me. I’m angry that I’m weak.
Again.
I can’t let my dick lead my life. I know how it worked out for me last time. The only good thing I have to show for it is Isabella. I’d never regret her.
Never.
She’s the sunlight in my dark existence.
She is why I wake up. Why I come to work. Why I tolerate the abuse I subject myself to every day.
If it weren’t for Isabella and The L, life would be different. I’d be bending Bridget over my desk right now and sinking myself into her tight—
A discreet cough pulls me out of my dirty thoughts. Fuck. Speak of the devil. How is she always so flawlessly beautiful? I know she isn’t even trying. Her dirty-blond hair is pulled into a sloppy bun on the top of her head, and a pencil is tucked behind one ear. She looks like a sexy librarian with her pencil skirt and white button-down. A sexy librarian who needs to let loose.
I clear my throat and scrub my brain of the thoughts from moments ago.
“What do you want, Ms. Miller?” I hiss, barely able to maintain the hostility.
“I just wanted . . .” She pauses and bites her lip. The movement draws unwelcome attention to her mouth.
“Just wanted to . . .” I lead. My words come out harshly, but what does she expect when she’s making me look at her goddamn lips? Lips that at this minute I want wrapped around my—
“I have the file you asked for.” She lifts a folder in the air for emphasis.
“And did you get the pricing for all the viable options for the hotel?”
Her mouth drops open. Of course she didn’t. I never asked her to.
“You never said—”
“I don’t care that I never said anything. Learn to anticipate what’s needed of you.”
She mutters something under her breath that I can’t catch.
“What did you say?” I stare her down.
She looks me square in the eye, pulls back her shoulders, and stands a little taller.
There she is.
The spitfire from the other day.
“I said,” she pauses for emphasis, “I’m a temp here. I want to learn. So perhaps you should start teaching.” She cocks her head to the left in defiance.
I stand and make swift work of moving in front of her. “You want to learn? What do you want me to teach you?” We’re so close, I can feel her exhale of breath; I can smell her intoxicating scent. She smells like jasmine, exotic and heady. Like a siren leading me to my ruin. She better leave now, or I can’t be held responsible for what I want to do.
“I, um, you should start by telling me what the expectations of the job entail,” she mumbles, clearly affected by my proximity.
“Your first lesson is not to defy me.” I lean in, needing her to leave, but wanting her to stay. My blood pumps furiously in my chest. I’m within inches of her mouth when she shakes her head once, pulling herself out of whatever trance she went into. She rights herself and then turns from me, walks toward the door, and slams it as she leaves.
Crossing the room, I grab a tumbler and pour myself a Scotch. That was too fucking close. I almost kissed her right here in the middle of my fucking office.
Idiot.
I need to get rid of her. I need her gone.
God fucking damn it.
The phone rings and I stalk back over to my desk. “Lancaster here.”
“Grant.” My lawyer’s voice makes my back go ramrod straight. I’ve been waiting for this call.
“Lawrence. Have you been able to eradicate the thorn in my side?”
“Unfortunately, no, not yet. She screwed you big time. I’m not sure how exactly you got in this position, but I’ll look into some other angles and get back to you.”
I slam the phone into the cradle. The sound vibrates off the walls. That’s not what I want to hear. The uncertainty of my company, my future, the life of my daughter are all hanging in the balance, and right now I’m helpless. I take another swig and place the glass down.
The liquid burns my throat. I shouldn’t be drinking, but the hotel business isn’t like most businesses. Being the boss has its perks. Grabbing the phone, I hit the intercom button.
“Ms. Miller, in my office now.” I don’t really need her, but I have this sick perverse need to torture myself and her. If I have to be miserable with her in my hotel, so should she.
Within a few seconds, she enters my office. Her chest heaves. The fabric of her blouse pulls tightly over her breasts. It’s only been a short time since she was in here last, but I swear her shirt got tighter. How is that possible?
“You rang.” She smiles, but regardless of the false smile, I recognize the disdain in her voice, and it infuriates me. So, being the dick I am, I can’t help but goad her.
“Do you have the answers I need?” I bite out, fully aware there’s no way in goddamn hell she coul
d actually have the answers. “Most assistants interested in keeping their jobs would have been in here already.” It’s only been ten minutes since she was last in here.
She thrusts the file down in front of me. Pricing included. “Don’t entertain any preconceived notion of my abilities simply because you’ve been between my legs,” she hisses.
I can’t find words to respond before she turns, dismissing me and walking out the door once more.
Well, that went well.
That piece of shit.
He wants me to fail, and why? So he can fire me? No. He can fire me regardless. He’s the kind of bastard who just wants to make me miserable. He wants to toy with me. What the fuck was that? He was inches away from me. For a second I thought he was going to kiss me, but then, like every other time, the massive freeze descended.
No matter what I told Lynn, I can’t lie to myself. My work environment is actually horrific, and to make matters worse, I have to stay. I’m completely out of options. I can’t even call Olivia again and beg for help. She has her own problems. She just got out of rehab, and she’s starting her own company. I haven’t told her yet that I’m working for her boyfriend’s enemy, but I’m not going to. She doesn’t need any more drama in her life. Nor do I.
If I’m being honest, I don’t want this to be about her right now. Everything is always about her, and for once in my life, I have something that’s mine. It isn’t much, a lowly temp job, but still. I’m working on a big project. A project that can change the outcome of my future. Do a good job on this, and I’m set. Work hard enough, and maybe I can convince Mr. Lancaster to give me a recommendation. Then I can get a better paying job with the prestige that would make my family proud.
Bonus . . . he’ll finally be in my past.
It will take every ounce of strength and determination for me to make it the next few weeks here. Hell, the next few days. For all I know, Grant Lancaster is on the phone with the temp agency right now, serving me my walking papers. If he’s not, it’s a modern miracle, and I need to work extra hard to stop mouthing off when he annoys me. I need to bite my tongue, which is something I’ve never been good at. But I can at least try. I have to try.
