And then I bought a Chia Pet.
Then another.
Then I realized I was turning into the crazy cat lady only with Chia Pets, which had to be worse since one day I found myself talking to them. In my defense, I was extremely drunk, by myself, see? It’s pretty much worse!
Talking ceased around the meeting.
Good, finally.
I took a long sip of my coffee as Max walked in, rubbing the shoulders of some hotshot, and out my coffee went.
All over the table.
And over Kevin’s white shirt. Oh, he too hated me, but only because I got the promotion and he didn’t.
He wiped at his shirt and glared.
“Uh yes, glad you’re excited, Olivia!” Max said loudly. “Everyone, I’m sure this man doesn’t need an introduction! One of the youngest VP’s in our Santa Monica office and now the newest President of Marketing!”
No.
Nope.
The universe wasn’t that mean.
Was it?
My gaze slid around the room, seeking blinking red lights. Were we on a television show again?
Was I being pranked.
Wait one hot minute.
Oh shit! I nearly spit out another sip of coffee.
That made Mark, the guy I hated, loved, then hated, and slept with on every surface in one of the company apartments we were marketing again and refurbishing.
MY. BOSS!
Noooooooooooooo!
I sat in pissed-off silence as Max waxed on and on and—wait a second. Movement near his chest caught my eye. Did he have a gecko in his pocket?
The hell?
How was Little G even alive still?
I swear that damn gecko smirked at me then hid back in his suit pocket all before Max grinned and pointed at me as people started clapping.
Yup, missed another announcement. I looked around with a watery smile. How was this my life?
“So!” Max rubbed his hands together.
I would not look at Mark. I would not look at Mark; I would not—damn me to Hell that man was fine.
He’d filled out in all the right places.
Broad shoulders.
Big, just everywhere, don’t stare at his crotch, do NOT stare this crotch, wait, was he aroused?
I frowned and kept staring.
Max cleared his throat. “Er, Olivia?”
My head whipped up. “Yes, sir, sorry what was that?”
“Someone get her some more coffee.” He laughed awkwardly.
Everyone joined in.
Officially the worst Monday meeting of my life.
Thanks, Mark!
Mark put a hand on Max’s shoulder. “I’ll explain.”
Yes, please mansplain to me how to do my job. The dick!
“Olivia.” His voice was deeper, his jaw so square I wanted to cut cheese with it. Wait, what? How were his eyes more blue? His smile more magnetic? I’d had my mouth on that and walked in the other direction? Had I been possessed?
“Yes, Mark?” I tried to sound confident, but my voice was barely a whisper, as if I was in my own sex tape, begging him to take me across the conference table. In front of everyone.
“Our team’s in charge of the refurbishments of the rest of the penthouses at Emory’s main boutique hotel, Emory Towers; you remember the one?”
Oh, I was going to strangle him with his tie!
And it was too pretty to wrinkle.
“Yup, remember it quite well, actually,” I said smoothly. “As I recall, the bathrooms were a bit subpar, the lighting, not super… shall we say…flattering to small things.”
His eyes flashed.
Point Olivia!
“Yeah, I also recall that the rooms were somewhat frigid, unresponsive if you get my meaning? And some of those beds, wow no heat at all, it was almost like, you were sleeping with a ghost, right?”
I clenched my teeth. “Exactly, and don’t even get me started on the dryers…”
Mark actually choked, then coughed. “Yes well, we won’t need to worry about marketing the dryers, though I’m sure you’d be exceptional at it, considering all your time with them.”
My pencil snapped in half.
His grin grew. “So shall we get started?”
“Now?” I asked.
Max laughed. “Okay then, she’s just a bit tired, you know, working all those late nights, having no social life, and basically sleeping at work.”
Leave it to Max to sell you out right under the table.
“For your company.” I pointed out. “And it’s a joy.”
“You threatened to light Roger on fire last week,” Max deadpanned. “For refusing to fold the—okay, you know what, fresh starts! Let’s let our fantastic duo come up with some marketing ideas for the penthouses, and we’ll be off!”
Yes, let’s.
Chapter Twenty
Mark
We rode in a Town Car together.
You know those really awkward movie scenes where both people are staring straight ahead, barely breathing, and refuse to even touch legs?
That was Olivia and me on a severely painful level.
And the worst part?
I still wanted her.
I’d tried not to.
I’d tried everything, but therapy, which Max suggested would be the only way to get over her. He had this whole twelve-step program planned out that ended up landing me in prison—twice. Suffice to say, I stopped taking his advice when he told me I’d feel better if I talked to Hades, and when I told him I didn’t believe in the underworld, he whistled, and an honest to God goat came strolling out with a collar on and red eyes.
Those eyes peered into my soul.
It was the creepiest thing I’d ever seen in my entire life.
I don’t even remember running out of his penthouse. His poor wife had been making us dinner once again, and I heard her utter, “Really Max, again?”
Apparently, that was normal for them.
I shuddered and brought myself back to the present.
“Everything okay?” I asked smoothly.
Olivia sighed and looked out the window. “You’re doing well.”
“As are you.”
“How’s the supermodel girlfriend?”
“How would you even know if I have a girlfriend, checking up on the guy you slept with, abandoned, and now hate? Or just morbid curiosity since I got the president job and you didn’t?”
She scowled. “It’s not about that.”
“Isn’t it, though?”
“You walked away too!” She turned to me, all rage and perfection. Her hair was a blunt cut, darker, so dark and shiny I wanted to weave my fingers into it to feel the silk, her eyes a crystal blue, her full lips painted with a pink lipstick I wanted on
