It’s day two of the party, so he’s in a logistical meeting with YouTube.
“I really wanted to hear the rest of that description,” Georgia says, smiling. “He called you a ‘fucking vision’, so that must mean he’s pretty blunt at work.”
“He’s a lot of things at work.”
“Is he attractive? Worth googling?”
“Not in the slightest.” I lie, envisioning his perfectly chiseled face. “He’s a pompous, arrogant asshole whose self-esteem is so low that he thinks thousand-dollar suits make women want him. They don’t.”
“Oh, well that’s sad.”
“Heartbreaking.” I pull my shades over my eyes and relax, hoping like hell that I’ll wake up and realize today never happened.
Please let that hurricane come early.
Punta Cana, Dominican Republic
Later that night
The lobby’s palm trees twinkle as Georgia and I pose for pictures. We’re donning plush white robes from the spa, courtesy of our upgrade. And thanks to the manager—and the pending storm, we have the entire building to ourselves.
Grey clouds are hovering above the island, and heavy rain is attacking the windows, but the staff doesn’t seem too concerned.
“I need to grab a different reindeer headband from the gift-shop,” Georgia says. “You want one?”
“Yeah, but can you get me an angel instead of the reindeer?”
“Absolutely.” She grabs her purse and rushes down the steps.
When I’m sure that she’s away, I pull out my phone and log into the private Boss-Snark forum I started when I first started working at West Media. I can’t resist knowing what’s going on at the party right now, and for some reason, I feel like something is slightly off.
Boss-Snark Forum 1.0
Subject: Garrett West
Russ76: Okay. Who the heck pissed in his Cheerios this morning? WTF is up with him today?
LilyV8: Right? He’s being far more bullish about deadlines than usual. Anyone from the executive team know what’s going on? Where’s @SavannGrey?
Heather20: I was drinking spiked eggnog on the beach earlier this morning and saw him pacing/shouting on the phone. Whatever it is, he’s PISSED. (He looks even sexier pissed, I must say.)
Russ76: @LilyV8 I’m sure she’s around here somewhere. Does anyone know the scent of cologne he wears? I’m thinking about getting my husband some.
Heather20: It’s called ‘I’m Fucking Soulless.’ LMAO. It probably cost 2k a bottle anyway… #gethimsomecalvinklein
I scroll through the other threads—checking in on who’s working on what while attempting to piece together what’s upset Garrett.
Is it me?
The sound of heavy footsteps is suddenly behind me, and then I hear someone clearing a throat.
“You don’t look like you’re suffering at all …” It’s a deep voice that I know all too well. “Are you enjoying your time away from me?”
What the fuck?
Sucking in a breath, I turn around and find myself face to face with the bane of my existence. The sexiest man who has ever set foot in Manhattan. Instead of his usual, custom three-piece suit and five-thousand-dollar tie, he’s wearing jeans and a dark grey T-shirt that hugs his muscles in all the right places.
His deep blue eyes are locked on mine, and his smile is more lethal than usual.
For a few seconds, I forget that he’s Satan in the flesh—that he’s flown thirteen hours to confront me in another country.
So, that wire message actually happened …
“Well?” His lips curve into a smirk. “Are you enjoying it, Miss Grey?”
I swallow. “How the hell did you find me?”
“You could’ve gone to the spa in Hawaii,” he says, eyeing my robe. “I would’ve paid for it.”
“How the hell did you find me?” I repeat.
“Well, like the very generous and concerned boss that I am, I stopped by your condo,” he says. “With enough soup and gourmet boxes to get you through the week.”
“You could’ve used Uber Eats.”
“I thought my favorite advisor was worthy of a personal handoff.” He steps closer, narrowing his eyes at me. “So, imagine my complete shock and surprise when you weren’t there, and that if you really had a flesh-eating disease, you would be in a hospital. I called every single one in the state.”
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