As I prepared a new pot, another yawn moved through me. I prayed that sleep would fill my night.
I leaned over the counter of the break room, watching the pot of coffee slowly fill. The smell of the fresh brew lifted my spirits, and it helped me knowing soon I’d have a delicious cup in hand that would help me get through the next few hours.
“Are you okay, Roe?” January asked.
I blew out a breath and turned to her. “It’s the worst case of the Mondays. Please tell me it will get better. Lie if you have to.”
“Oh, sweetie.” Her gaze moved down my shirt. “It will get better. Stay here. I’ll be right back.”
Before I could ask or have her just meet me at my desk, she was gone.
My eyes drooped for a second, heavy as afternoon drowsiness hit and combined with my already tired state. After ten months of caring for my baby niece, you’d think I’d have the perpetual lack of sleep down to an art form, but alas, it wasn’t so. There was no such thing as getting used to operating on just a few broken hours of sleep. A quick intake of breath and some blinks shook me awake, at least for a moment.
While I spaced out, the dripping of the coffee subsided and I poured a cup. The smell was divine, and I pulled a container from the fridge. I loved to mix in some premade cold mocha to cool it down faster and make it even yummier. I took a sip of my coffee, a moan leaving me. Perfect.
In my tuned-out state, I wasn’t aware there was someone behind me. As I turned, my elbow caught his outstretched arm. The jostle sent a wave of coffee over the lip of the mug. Hot, dark liquid splashed across my hand and the clothing covering the person behind me.
My eyes were wide as my body bowed back to avoid more of it landing on me, my hand stinging from the warmth. Thankfully the mocha had cooled it down some.
“Oh, crap. I am so sorry!” My shit day that was having a brighter moment just got even worse.
“Fucking incompetent twit!” he spat as he grabbed for some paper towels.
My mouth dropped open. “I am so sorry,” I apologized again, my brain stuck in blame-taking mode even though his words were grating on me. It could also be partially blamed on the hotness towering over me.
The man before me with his whip of a tongue was just as lashing with his looks. I’d seen him around before. Who wouldn’t have noticed that razor line of a jaw, stunning blue eyes, dark hair, or his perfect body in a suit that had to be custom made?
He may have starred in a fantasy or two of mine, but that was to be expected with a man like him.
My gaze caught on the flicker of his black cuff links as they glimmered with each swipe of his hand. They struck me as odd and off brand from what little personality I’d built up in my head.
“Sorry doesn’t fix this,” he growled at me.
He was pissed, and for some reason, that was funny to me. Of course Mr. Too-Sexy-For-His-Suit had a bad attitude. It was an accident. If he’d done something as simple as alerting me to his presence behind me, it wouldn’t have happened.
Past his looks, I knew who he was in name only, but our encounter showed me that it was more than enough.
“It was an accident. If anyone is at fault, it’s you for sneaking up on me.”
He glared down at me, taking in my stained shirt, and tsked.
“You are incompetent,” he sneered as he brushed a wet paper towel against his shirt.
Incompetent?
The word repeated in my mind as I stared at him.
The day had been long, the challenges hard, and I had battle scars in the form of the discoloration of my shirt to prove it.
The vein on my forehead throbbed, and the anger that simmered under my frustration of the day boiled over.
I’d had a shit day, and he was the icing on that cake. Icing I didn’t want. I already had formula, mustard, and coffee.
Fuck. Him.
I narrowed my gaze at him before extending my arm and tipping my cup, splashing another dark stain onto the very expensive, fitted suit he filled out so well.
“Oops.” I smiled, watching the brown soak into the white of his dress shirt before heading to the doorway where January was standing, a detergent pen in her hand, jaw dropped as she witnessed what just happened.
“Thanks,” I said as I snatched the pen from her, ignoring the death glare being burned into the back of my head.
Well, my day didn’t get better, but I sure felt better after that.
His words played out in my mind long after I’d left work for the day. Even though the night went by without a peep, I couldn’t move past the feelings he inspired in me. Was I truly inadequate, or was he just a dick?
It seemed maybe Kinsey was just as tired as I was. After dinner, she passed out and so did I.
In the morning, I felt refreshed and was determined to have a better day than the day before. I’d been able to get my social media pitch in, and I was going to start the day out passing off projects before meeting with Donte in the afternoon.
It was a new day, and I was excited for my new assignment.
When I arrived at my desk, there was obviously something wrong—my laptop was missing. Everything else was where I left it, but in place of my company laptop was a simple blank Donovan Trading and Investment business card. Instead of an employee’s information, neat handwriting in all capital letters spelled out—YOU’RE MINE.
I stared down at the words, trying to understand their meaning.
First thing I needed to do was to find out where my laptop had run away to. I often took it home, but I knew there was no way I was getting work done after the shit day I’d had.
A knock to my boss’s open door drew his attention, and he looked up.
“Morning,” he said as he waved me in. “Great job on that pitch.”
His compliment did little to settle my nerves, which were strangely on edge. “Where’s my computer?”
He froze, then cleared his throat. “Ah, about that. You’ve been reassigned.”
I froze. “Reassigned? What does that mean?” I demanded.
He held up his hands. “It’s just temporary.”
“Why?”
He let out a sigh and rubbed at the back of his neck. I liked Matt, he was a good guy to work for, but something was off.
“Because you had a bad day yesterday and pissed off an exec, and the whole office heard about it. You know how gossip is.”
The simmering anger morphed into a stone sitting in the pit of my stomach, growing larger and denser with each passing second. The asshole was an executive. Figured, with the expensive suit and sexy scowl.
I knew my behavior was wrong, but the man didn’t need to respond the way he did. Accidents happened, and he’d hit the right nerve on the wrong day. No regrets or anything, but I knew what was happening was punishment.
“How is this even possible? I’m in Marketing!”
“He’s the President of Acquisitions. The Worthington takeover takes precedent. He needs help, and he has decided you are the one to fill that role.”
“What about my Worthington project?”
“Donte will become lead, and you will assist. I’ve worked it out that you will still be able to work on it some while helping Carthwright.”
Some.
Anger coursed through me. I’d worked so hard to get where I was. The prestige of such a project would greatly help my career—only now the credit I’d hoped to receive might not come, affecting my evaluations and raises for years to come.