by Ava Harrison
“You look happy.” He chuckles.
I snap out of my reverie and grin up at the stranger. “Sorry, I’m in my own world. I just got a temp job here. I start on Monday. Hence the crazy smile on my face.”
“Nice. I’m an intern here. I started a few months ago, and trust me, we need the extra staff. You’ll like it, though. It’s a cool place. I’m Jared, by the way.”
“I’m Bridget. Nice to meet you. I’ve got to get going, but I’ll see you around.”
He quirks an eyebrow as his lips part into a sexy smirk.
I can’t help but grin as I walk out. He’s cute. This is gearing up to be a rather perfect position.
Monday morning rolls around, and before I know it, I’m walking through the door to the HR department. Paige is already there to greet me. She holds the door to her office open and points to the chair.
“Good morning, Bridget. Glad you came back.” She beams.
“I’m here and ready to go,” I assure her with a smile.
“Right, hmm, let me see,” she says while she riffles through some pages on her desk. “Ah, yes, here we go. Okay, so you were supposed to be in the HR department, but there’s been some changing in personnel, and our COO requested that you be moved up to help on the top level.”
“Top level?” I’m not sure what that even means.
“You’ll be filling a position as an executive assistant in top-level corporate. It’s quite a jump, but you seem the sort of woman who can handle that beautifully.”
I do? I wonder if Paige is perhaps mistaking me for someone she spoke to in more depth. I doubt my résumé makes me suitable for such a position. Perhaps I should say something, but I don’t have the time as Paige is already standing and directing me where to go. I look behind me and see that another woman is waiting to meet with her.
“O-Okay. Thanks, Paige. Anything I should know before I go up?”
I’m sure there’s a whole manual of shit I should know, but they’ll soon find out how unqualified I am to temp in the hotel much less for C-suite. I do quick work of smoothing out my skirt, hoping like hell I don’t look like the mess I feel right now.
“They’ll run through everything with you when you get there. Have a great day, and welcome to the team.”
Her words don’t do anything to soothe my unease, but I plaster on my fakest smile and move toward my new job. The whole way to the top floor I rein in my fidgeting and work on my breathing. I can do this. I’m Bridget fucking Miller, and I can do this. I keep repeating the mantra, hoping like hell it’ll stick by the time I get there. Once I make it to the stairs, I’m already more relaxed.
I find the door with ease and smooth out my outfit one last time. You can do this. I straighten my spine and knock.
“Come in,” a gruff male voice commands from the inside.
I open the door, and the world tilts. The floor falls out from underneath me, and I can’t contain the gasp that slips through my lips when I spot the man sitting behind the big wooden desk.
Grant.
Looking even sexier than the other night . . . when he left me . . . alone . . . in a dark alley. Asshat. Oh my God . . .
This can’t be right. Only it can.
It so. Goddamn. Can.
Grant. Grant Lancaster. Grant-Fucking-Lancaster. Oh, my God.
“What the hell are you doing here?” he scuffs.
“I . . . I work here.” For several seconds, I stand there, openly staring at him while he stares back. My mouth is agape, and his is pressed into a hard, disapproving line. He clearly had no idea either.
“How did you get up here?” he demands.
“Paige sent me up from HR. She said I was to report here.”
Grant picks up a folder and opens it. His lips pinch tightly. “Bridget Miller,” he reads. “There’s no way in hell this is happening. You can’t work for me.”
My stomach sours on multiple levels. The contempt in his voice has me feeling so small and pathetic. The look he gave me back in the alley floods my memory, and I feel like I could be sick. It’s not bad enough that he humiliated me that night, but he’s treating me like trash he discarded on the side of the road.
How did this happen?
How did I not recognize him?
How did I not know he was the Grant Lancaster?
“Please go back down to Paige and tell her I’ve discharged you. I’ll write a decent exit letter for you, but you have to go.”
“You kissed me,” I say, because in truth I don’t know what else to say. I’m numb. Between his attitude and the fact that yet another freaking job seems to be going down the drain, I want to crawl into a ball in the corner and cry.
Grant’s eyes widen, his brows furrowing in confusion and then anger. “For God’s sake, close the door behind you. Do you really want everyone listening in on our conversation?”
I quickly shut the door and then sit in the chair opposite his desk. He glares at me, and I wonder briefly how he manages to remain so good-looking when he’s so angry. And how, at a time like this, I can think about how good-looking he is. But how can I not? In the light of the day, he’s even more perfect than he was on Thursday. In this light, I can see the green of his eyes. They’re the green of sunlight on grass after the ice has thawed. Mossy and overgrown. Begging to be cared for. Or maybe the green of a tropical ocean during a storm. Troubled and reckless.
Shaking my head, I pull my gaze away from his hypnotic eyes only to have it land on his mouth instead. His lips. His lips are temptation and sin. They bring back a stream of memories of how they felt pressed against mine. Of how he tasted as he devoured me. Fuck. They make me want to lose myself in him all over again. I have to break away. Look somewhere else. My eyes focus out the window at the giant skyscrapers across the street from our building.
“Why are you still here?” he grates, pulling me out of my thoughts. Our gazes collide. His eyes are almost closed. They appear cold, hard . . . far away. But as far away as he seems, his stare still burns me as if I’m his enemy. As if I’ve done this on purpose.
Not knowing what to do, I stay seated. Rooted in place. Completely frozen. Finally shaking my head once, I will words to come out of my mouth. “Maybe it’s because I don’t know what to do with myself. I’m confused. Or maybe it’s because I need this job. Take your damn pick,” I spit harshly.
“Did you know who I was all along?” he hisses.
“What?”
“At the lounge. Did you know it was me?” The words lash out and make me recoil. “Did you know who I was and that you were going to work for me, so you decided to flirt with me?”
“No.” I feel anger bubbling in my chest, simmering quietly, but steadily, as the implication of what he is saying hits me. “I didn’t.”
“You clearly knew who I was. I can see it all over your face.”
His harsh words and cold demeanor have me forgetting all about our time together. Right now I just want to slap the arrogant ass upside the head. “You have a very high opinion of yourself, Mr. Lancaster. Not everyone wants to snag a tycoon brother with a family that keeps the majority of New York’s local tabloids alive.” I roll my eyes, sarcasm oozing from every pore of my body.
“But yet just the other day you were panting all over my hand, asking me to fuck you,” he lashes out.
I’m too shocked to speak, my mouth hanging open, unable to form words.
“You’re just like all the other women. You knew it was me, so you tried to seduce me to get what you wanted. You use people for their money. You use people to get ahead in your life while you sit back and do nothing.” His vile words snap me out of my stupor.
“Have you lost your mind?” I yell. “You are the one who kissed me, remember? I hardly even registered your existence. You offered me a drink. You took me out. You kissed me in a goddamn dumpster—thanks for that, by the way, way to boost a girl’s ego. This is all on you.”
Grant pulls at his hair, clearly frustrated. “As far as I’m con
cerned that night never happened. Do you understand?”
“I couldn’t care less. That’s a night I’d rather forget.” The lie tastes sour on my tongue. “For the record, I didn’t ask to be your assistant. I’m barely getting paid for this. I’m just a temp, and this is only to build my résumé so I can get a job worth having.”
“So The L isn’t good enough for you?” he sneers.
“Right now no. You’re making it damn difficult for me to actually do my job. This was just assigned to me. Paige sent me up here herself. She said they’re desperate, so when I quit in five minutes, you can deal with that shit show.”
“You expect me to believe this is some ridiculous coincidence?”
“To be honest, I don’t give a damn what you think. At this point, I’m pretty sure you’re certifiable, and I don’t have time for this.” I turn to stalk out when his words stop me short.
“Stay.”
Is this man on drugs? Between his insults and accusations, the last place I want to be is anywhere near him, but I stop despite my better senses. “Why? Tell me why I should stay to listen to anything you have to say.”
“I just need to figure this all out. You’re right, we are desperate for help, and Paige might kill me if I release yet another assistant.”
I huff. “So you make a habit of pissing people off.”
He lifts up his hand to stifle a long, drawn-out groan. “You’re just like my wife. No wonder you’re driving me insane.”
My wife.
My wife.
My wife.
He has a wife.
He was married while he took me out to the back alley. When his hands touched me, he had a wife. A wife who might have been there at the lounge. A wife who probably had been there. Oh my God. A wife.
What did that make me?
Holy shit. This man—this adulterer—is angry at me for coming up to his office today. An office I was hired to work at. One in which I most certainly did not know he’d be.
“Are you even listening to me?” he asks.
I snap out of my reverie and look at him. He’s glaring at me, but at the same time, his forehead is furrowed in confusion.
“You’re married.” There’s no mistaking the bite in my voice. It drips over my words, making him flinch.
“Well, yes, but—”
“Every action that night you instigated, and now, somehow, you’re mad at me? Is that really what’s going on?” I speak with a calmness that surprises even me.
“Listen, you don’t know anything. You have no idea what—”
“I don’t know who you are. You might be a big shot here, but that doesn’t mean everyone in the outside world knows who Grant Lancaster is. I wasn’t meant to work at this hotel. I had another job all lined up, but they canceled it at the last minute. Not that it’s any of your business.”
“None of my business? I think it is my business how you ended up in my hotel.”
“My options were slim, so when I got the opportunity to work at this hotel, I grabbed it. I literally ran over for the interview without even a chance to do my research. So I’m sorry if I don’t know who the great Grant Lancaster is.” I stand and shake my head. I don’t need to be treated like this. “I’m leaving.”
“Sit down,” he says. “I need an assistant, and you need a job. That’s all there is to it. Yes, I’m married. I’m also your boss, but I don’t owe you anything more. So what’s it going to be?” His words are like a million daggers slicing at every part of my being. They tear me down and leave me bleeding, but what can I do? He’s giving me an option to stay regardless of what happened.
Closing my eyes, I consider my options. I could leave. I could. But then where will I be? I won’t get another shot with Karen. And truth be told, this is my best bet in proving how different from my sisters I am.
I’m not different at all.
The bitter irony hits me in the face. No matter how I try, no matter what I do, I’m destined to be exactly like them. Case in point, bumping into the stranger from the bar. The parallels are uncanny, this is what happened to Lynn. I’m a cosmic tragedy. Every time I try to be different, I just cement how similar to them I am.
No. I am different.
I can stand on my own two feet. My future is dictated only by me.
My chin lifts, and I meet his stare. The venom I just witnessed is replaced with another expression. One I can’t place. I barely know this man. All I know is that he’s married. He cheated on his wife with me, but I’m probably not the first or last. What happened that night was his fault, not mine. I’m not married, and I most certainly didn’t know he was. He’s in the wrong, and I can live with that knowledge.
“I need this job, and you need an assistant. Let’s leave it at that.”
I dial the human resources department.
“Hello, Mr. Lancaster. How can I help you?” Paige says through the phone. Her voice is low, timid, as if she knows I’m a ticking time bomb.
“Bridget Miller, who hired her?” The aggression in my voice is evident.
“Is there a problem with Ms. Miller, sir?” she squeaks.
“How did she come to work here?” I snap.
“Mrs. Lancaster hired her.”
What the hell? Why would Chelsea hire Bridget Miller?
A sinking feeling rushes through me. Does she know about Bridget and me? Did she find out what I’ve done, and if she does know, how will she make me pay?
“Is everything okay, Mr. Lancaster? Do you need me to—”
“Everything is fine,” I cut her off, hanging up the phone call before she can get a word in edgewise. I need to get to the bottom of this. How does Chelsea know Bridget, and why would she hire her? Slamming the phone down, the sound echoes through the room. Without a moment to waste, I head toward her office.
“Why are you hiring me a new assistant?” I shout as I slam the door behind me.
“Well, you needed one.” She purses her lips. “Is she not to your liking?”
“How did you come across her?”
She smiles a malicious smile. How did I ever want this woman? “I have a friend who owns a temp agency, and she called me with a tip. The girl’s sister is dating Spencer.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Her sister, Olivia, is Spencer’s new love interest,” she purrs, and all the muscles in my back tighten.
“What are you up to?”
“Me? Up to something? Don’t be silly, dear.”
“I told you I was done. And I am done. I’m not sure what you’re planning, but this girl has nothing to do with it.”
“Of course she doesn’t. I just knew you needed a new assistant, and when I heard you asked Miles to look into her, I found it . . . interesting. Was I wrong to assume she meant something to you?” She narrows her eyes at me, and I will myself to not give anything away. Not to give her the bait she needs to make my life an even bigger shit show. Because right now with everything else going on, with the impending opening of The L, a volatile Chelsea is not what I need. I grit my teeth and try to remain calm.
“Were you looking to hire someone, or was there another reason you had the head of security for The L look into some girl?”
My mouth opens and shuts as I try to come up with a plausible answer.
“You have to admit, Grant, hiring her could be beneficial to our cause. She may have inside information. Is this going to be a problem?”
“I said we’re dropping the shit with my brother, Chelsea. No more.”
“Don’t be silly. I don’t want to stir up anything else. She just might know if he plans to retaliate. Don’t make an issue where there isn’t one. We don’t want problems, do we?”
She has me. I can’t afford to piss off Chelsea. Not now. Not yet. Maybe not ever. Maybe I did this on purpose. Maybe subconsciously, I wanted to get caught. To find a way out of the hellhole I’m in. But there’s no way out. None that won’t hurt Isabella. I made my bed. Now I need to lie in it, no ma
tter how crappy the goddamn mattress is, and it’s pretty fucking bad.
Once again Chelsea has ruined something that was just for me. She’s blindsided me, and in turn, I’ve managed to offend the second person who made me feel something other than regret for the first time in years. Bridget was one moment just for me. For that one moment, I tasted bliss. In her mouth, I found it. But behind every kiss was a lesson. A bitter one. Reminding and reiterating the one thing I should have never forgotten.
Nothing comes without a price.
Most importantly no one can be trusted. Not even myself.
I never should have trusted Miles.
Why did he tell Chelsea about my interest is Bridget? What’s in it for him?
I can’t trust anyone. Not even my own team.
There was a time I trusted my brother. He was the only person I could rely on. As my older brother, Spencer would have reminded me I had choices and could leave. Start over. But that was then, and this is now. He’d never understand. Everything falls into place for him. Nothing works out for me. Case in point, my new assistant. What am I going to do about this massive fuck up?
Fuck. I have to be at least ten years older than her. But when she was looking at me at the bar, and when we got outside and she was pressed against the wall of the building, all I could do—all I could think about—was how much I needed to be inside her.
I just agreed to work with this girl, but I can’t do it. I don’t have the strength. When she stands in front of me, all I’m reminded of is her taste. When she exhales in a huff, the moans that escaped her mouth come crashing into my mind. I should have told her to resign.
She’s the one person who makes me feel. It’s been so long. I never thought I’d feel that way again. The need. The desire. I thought that part of me had died. But she awakened an unquenchable hunger. It gnaws in my gut. Having her for even five minutes was too much. Trying to resist will be torture. Even now, I want to bend her over my desk and plunge into her heat. I want to taste the fire inside her. Bask in her. Empty everything I’ve held back into her. Lose myself in her.