Manage My Heart (New Year New Me, #2)

by Colt, Shyla

  This Book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, duplicated, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior written consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  Editing: There for You Editing

  ©Text Copyright 2021 Shyla Colt

  Table of Contents

  Copyright Page

  Manage My Heart | New Year New Me 2 | Shyla Colt

  Dedication

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  About the Author

  Excerpt | Tough Cookies

  Connect with me

  Manage My Heart

  New Year New Me 2

  Shyla Colt

  Dedication

  For Papa who always loved me as I was.

  Chapter One

  Adora

  I answer the phone, eager to escape the melancholy that’s crept over me while I wander the five-star hotel, waiting to be summoned.

  “Hey, sis.”

  The sound of my younger sister’s voice and the smile on her full lips is a break from my intense homesickness. Jenay is a breath of fresh air in a beautiful city. I have no time to explore my surroundings and no one to assuage the loneliness. By definition, my job is to be invisible but always present. It’s a perilous tight rope walk on soft-soled shoes. Being the personal assistant to CEO Weston Rogers requires more than keeping track of his schedule and phone calls. I keep him fed, watered, and supplied with what he needs to be the best, whether it be a last-minute mint before a meeting or a shot of espresso after a long night of schmoozing his potential clients the night before.

  “Hey, sissy. How are you?” I ask, excited to get a chance to talk.

  “You’re the one staying in the swanky hotel in London. Why are we starting with me?” Jenay’s wideset, dark eyes twinkle with mirth and excitement. I wish I had a quarter of her enthusiasm. These days I’m so worn out by the end of the day it’s all I can do to wrap my hair in a silk bonnet before I crash. “How is the Waldorf treating you?” she asks with a thick British accent.

  I laugh. “It’s one of those work trips where I don’t get to sightsee.”

  “Boo.” She gives a thumbs down, and I laugh. “Speaking of work, how’s Mr. Fine Ass doing?”

  I shake my head. “Really?”

  “What? I’m not allowed to talk about him? My, your jealousy is unbecoming.” She clucks her tongue, and I roll my eyes. You get drunk and tell your sister you’ve fallen for your boss once, and she never lets you forget it. “Does he know how you feel yet?”

  I clear my throat as I walk out onto the balcony and view the city below. I love the unique structures of older buildings. All of the brick and stone warm my history-loving heart. “It hasn’t exactly come up in our daily conversations.”

  “Adora.” Her high-pitched screech makes me flinch.

  I scowl. “It’s not that easy to bring up.”

  “You admitted your feelings like six months ago. Which means you’ve had them for far longer.”

  “I know,” I mumble. I might be three years older, but I’m a million times more reserved than my younger sibling. We’re wired entirely differently. Jenay came out of the womb, screaming and ready to take on the world. I had to be pulled out with forceps a week late because I didn’t want to leave my comfy little pocket in my mom’s belly. I like to research and weigh things out. She jumps and lets the chips fall where they may.

  It’s a trait I’ve always admired and resented about her since I was the one getting her out of the majority of the scrapes. According to my mother, Mrs. Juanita Whitt, I was my sister’s keeper, and if I didn’t stop her or rat her out, I was equally as guilty.

  “You can’t go into the new year like this, Dor. How many times have you dismissed a man because your heart was already occupied?”

  I snicker. “Ha. Like I have the time for dating, let alone a relationship. Between work and getting my illustrating business up and running—”

  “Why are you still there? You’ve busted your ass for years to get the clientele and online presence you have now. When are you going to chase your passion full time?” Her words grate at my nerves. Mostly because they’re true.

  I smack my lips. “When I feel ready.”

  “You never will. That is life’s cruelest joke. You can plan and plot all you want, but at some point, you have to take a risk and jump. You double majored in school to do what you love. To feed your belly without giving up feeding your soul. You’re fortunate enough to have the soul food become enough to fill your body and your heart. So why are you waiting?”

  Her words sting me like a bee, nailing another nail in my coffin of weak excuses.

  “Because I’m scared of what will become of West if I leave. Ebenezer Alby works that man to the bone. If I’m not here to remind him he’s human, I don’t know what’ll become of him. Is that what you wanted to hear? Are you happy now?” I snap.

  “No, and neither are you.” She points her finger. “Which is why I’m speaking up. Every time we talk, you’re more exhausted and less engaged. It’s time for you to stop taking such good care of Weston Rogers and focus on you.”

  “You’re right.”

  “I’m what?” Her eyes bulge, and I smile.

  “I don’t need you to remind me that I’m flirting with thirty-three, single, and in a job that no longer serves me. I’m good at what I do. But I don’t love it. I don’t plan on going into the new year hanging on to dead weight. This is why I’ve chosen this trip to tell West how I feel.”

  Her jaw drops. “What brought this on?” she asks softly.

  “I’ve spent too long letting his life dictate mine. The owner’s close to retirement, and with no children interested in the company, it’s only a matter of time until he names a successor. It’s between Weston or Porter. I felt like I was standing by his side until it hit me. If he becomes an owner, it’ll do nothing for me. I mean, he’d pay me more, but I’m not a part of his life.” My heart sinks. “Not really.”

  “I’m sorry, babe.”

  I perk up and smile slyly. “There’s another reason ... the contract I just landed with a book company.”

  “What? You wench! Why didn’t you tell anyone?”

  I laugh. “Because I just finalized it yesterday.”

  “Congratulations!”

  “Thank you.”

  “I am so damn proud of you! And here I thought you needed a healthy dose of tough love,” she says, exasperated.

  My phone chimes, and Weston’s name pops up. “I have to go, the boss beckons.”

  “Go get him, tiger.” She makes a clawing motion with her fingers, and I laugh.

  I click over from my FaceTime conversation with my sister to the phone call. “Yes, Weston.”

  “We’re going to end the meeting in about fifteen minutes. Can you find us a local spot for dinner and make reservations?”

  I grit my teeth. I anticipated this. Mr. Alby is a sadistic bastard who likes to throw monkey wrenches and last-minute requests at people to see how well they deal with them. I think he gets off on watching people scramble, panic, and battle for his attention. He’s always made my skin crawl, though I hide it well behind a smile.

  “I’ll have things settled for thirty minutes. That’ll give you enough time to finish up and make your way over.”

  “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Adora.” His words are honeyed warmth that spreads through my body. His deep voice full of appreciation ha
s always had a profound effect on me.

  “Starve for sure. I’ll send you the details via text shortly.” I end the call and close my eyes, pressing my thighs together in my black pencil skirt. Get ahold of yourself. I’ve never met a man I had such a virile response to before. From the minute I saw his hazel-colored eyes and massive hands, I knew I was in trouble. Then he spoke, and I was a goner. Time has only made the situation worse. Seeing him go through the upper echelon of women like tissues has become too painful to continue. Denial doesn’t work when emotions are involved. Choosing gifts for his flavor of the month had pushed me to the point of no return.

  Regardless of what he has to say, once I share my feelings, I’m leaving the company. I have no clue how he’s going to take it.

  “YOU TRULY ARE A TREASURE, Adora,” Mr. Alby purrs.

  Taking a sip of my sparkling water, I mentally scream as he pats my hand with his wrinkled paw. There’s savagery in his watery, blue eyes that watch a person’s every move.

  “Weston is certainly lucky to have you.”

  “I do my best for our company, sir.”

  His eyes light up, and I wonder if I’ve made a misstep.

  “Many of the employees could learn from you. Dedicated, loyal, and beautiful.”

  Why is he so focused on me tonight? I turn my gaze to Weston, who pointedly looks down at his food. I’m being kept out of the loop, and it’s unacceptable.

  “You compliment me too much, sir.”

  “And humble,” Mr. Alby crows.

  My stomach twists into knots.

  “I know a woman who could learn a few things from you.”

  Misogynist bastard. I shove a spoonful of beans in my mouth to keep the words dangling on the tip of my tongue from escaping. I’ll wait until after I’ve worked my final two weeks before I let my real opinions on this monster fly. The thought makes me smile as I chew.

  “Perhaps you can give Ms. Priscila a few pointers?”

  I frown, searching my mental database for a connection to the name. “I’m not familiar with that name, sir.”

  “Of course you aren’t. Priscila Scott is Mr. Scott’s eldest daughter. She happens to have time in her schedule to show us around while we’re here.”

  “Won’t that be lovely, Weston?”

  “Yes, sir. It’s always a pleasure to see Priscila,” Weston says woodenly. His face is locked down in the mask he wears for business.

  I can’t glean any emotion or information from him. I shift in my seat, uncomfortable as Mr. Alby continues to study me. He hums and moves back in his chair.

  “We’ve set up a few team building tours while we’re here. I’d like you to go with them, Adora. You can keep Priscila company and take photos for our newsletter. You have an artistic flair if I remember correctly, and we want to build strong relationships to help ... ease the merger along. What is it you do on the side?”

  “I’m an illustrator, sir.” I’ve never garnered this much attention from him. What did I do to get caught in his crosshairs?

  “That’s right. Drawing.” The dismissive tone makes my hackles rise. “It’s so important to have hobbies to keep us busy in our spare time.”

  I open my mouth. A large, warm hand clutches my thigh and squeezes. My eyes cut over to the right, and I fall into West’s intense gaze. He gives the slightest shake of his head. Heat rushes to my cheeks and the back of my neck. I hum a noncommittal response to Mr. Alby as my heart tries to escape from beneath my ribcage. If West moves his hand just a little to the left, he’d be touching the bare skin of my upper thigh. I fight the urge to widen my legs like a wanton woman from the romance novels I read through rapidly.

  Tightening my grip on my water glass as the blood rushes straight to my pulsing core, I force my hand to remain steady as I bring the cool drink to my lips and savor the liquid. I have to get through this dinner without spontaneously combusting. West removes his hand, and I mentally protest the loss. Bill’s restaurant is part pub, part dine-in. I admire the rustic wooden benches with leather-cushioned seats and leather chairs of the same material. Light wood paneling elevates it to a style I’ve decided to call pub chic. A row of frosted square glass forms a barrier between the pub and dining area with smaller, more intimate tables. Candles have been lit to add to the cozy atmosphere, and the smell of rich food fills the air. Music plays on low, blending in with the soft voices locked in conversation. I envy those clearly relaxing after a long day at work while I’m caught in work hell on the other side of the pond. I’m not saying Mr. Alby is evil, but he’d be Palpatine, or maybe Snoke if this was Star Wars. I blend into the background for the rest of the meal as Alby continues to shine a spotlight on me and ask probing questions. I want to tell him to shove it where the sun doesn’t shine. Suddenly, leaving this is looking better and better.

  WESTON

  I can feel the anger rolling of Adora in invisible waves directed at me. After all this time together, I can read her like a book. She’s been giving me stink eye covertly ever since Mr. Alby singled her out. She’s right about one thing, it’s my fault. When he started shoving the owner’s daughter, Priscila, at me, I used every woman I could get my hands on as a human shield. I’m not one for dating, but this year you would’ve thought I was running an audition for the future Mrs. Rogers.

  Alby caught me while I was single before this trip. So, I hinted that I was romantically involved with someone close to me. It wasn’t my fault he decided that person was Adora, right? She’s not going to see it that way. I’ve never wanted to avoid being alone with her the way I do now. Her black heeled foot taps a rhythm against the elevator floor as the car continues to travel up. It’s become my practice that we are given adjoining rooms. Having her close at hand makes things more comfortable with my insane hours. You sure it has nothing to do with your control-freak ways?

  I ignore the voice in my head that sounds dangerously like my father’s. Who would know, since I’ve inherited said tendencies from him in the first place. Adora has a sweetness about her that made me protective from day one. She wasn’t the most qualified person I interviewed, but she was the most sincere and attractive. Not physically, but on a level I didn’t question. My gut had gotten me this far in life, so I didn’t question it.

  I peer at her out of the corner of my eye. Her full lips are drawn into a straight line and turned down in the corners. Shit. Unlike most people in my life, she didn’t fear me. When I got loud, she matched my volume and refused to back down when it was important. I have a temper, and I was used to having things my way. Call it only child syndrome or privilege. I come from wealth, and it spoiled me, even with my father making me work for the things I wanted. He originated from the salt of the earth people and instilled his work ethic, and I inherited his height and presence.

  My father is pushing seventy at sixty-six, and you still sense it when he walks into a room. With chiseled chin, strong jaw, and piercing blue eyes, he’s easy on the eyes. It gives me hope for my aging process. ’Course, Dad knew when to slow down and enjoy life. A fact he reminded me of every time we get together. Which was part of why the visits between us got less and less. Growing up, the son of a mother born into wealth and a father who built a successful shipping company from the ground up left me with a lot to prove. I’d been determined to make it on my own. It hurt my dad seeing me stray from Rebel Shipping, but deep down, he understood. I poured everything I had into Alby Software. Now, at thirty-five, if I didn’t get named owner, it would all be for nothing. Alby had me by the balls, and we both knew it.

  Ding. We came to a stop on the fifth floor. “See you bright and early, Rogers,” Adam said, tipping his head at both of us as he exited the floor, leaving us alone. And then there were two.

  Adora angles her body toward me and folds her hands under her breasts. I can’t help but admire their shape and fullness as they press against the white, button-down shirt she’s paired with a black bow. I force my gaze to meet her flashing dark brown eyes.

  “L
ong day, huh?”

  “Don’t even try it, Weston Harrison Rogers.”

  I cringe at the sound of my full name rolling off her tongue. I’d verbally eviscerate anyone else who pulled this, but she was so much more than my employee.

  “What the hell was that tonight? Captain Creepy was in full form. He never even notices me, so why the sudden special and unwanted attention?”

  I open my mouth and close it.

  “I’m waiting.”

  Her mom voice is on point for a woman who has no children. I’m a grown man, and I feel scared straight.

  “He’s trying to fix me up with our client’s daughter, Priscila. Who has apparently taken a shine to me.”

  “Gross.” She wrinkles her button nose. “But why did I get the fifth degree and praise?” She shudders.

  “Because I told him I was seeing someone close to me.”

  “And?” She arches a delicate brow.

  “And he decided that person was you.”

  “Weston! Why didn’t you correct him?” She stomps her foot.

  I hide the smile her irritation causes. “Did you hear him? She’s going to be here with us for the whole trip! He’s going to try to foist her on me. Clearly, he’s suspicious about my claim as it is. He was trying to feel you out.”

  “More like feel me up,” she mumbles.

  I tense. “Did he touch you?” Each word is clipped. I ball my hands into fists. I’d rip his wrinkled body limb from limb if he pulled anything with her.

  “What?” She blinks rapidly. “Nothing more than what everyone saw. He just has that slimy feel to him.”

  “You tell me if he oversteps—”

  “Please. I can handle myself.”

  Gripping her upper arms, I pull her to me and search her gaze with my own. “I mean it, Adora.”

  Her lips part slightly, and her breathing quickens. My eyes drink in her round cheeks, and her close-set eyes fringed in thick, dark lashes. She’s stunning.

  “Okay,” she whispers.