2. Paisley

2

PAISLEY

I 'm not sure I'll ever get used to waking up in such a luxurious place. My bedroom alone is as big as mine and Chloe's last townhouse. The attached bathroom is what dreams and orgasms are made of. I should probably offer Bash some money for the water bill because I don't think I've taken a quick shower since I moved in. It would be pointless, though. Bash hasn't let me pay for a single thing in the past few weeks. I'm starting to feel spoiled. How am I going to go back to living like a broke college student after this?

Chloe says she wants me to live with them forever, and she means it. We've been best friends for years. Practically attached at the hip when we were in college. It wasn't until she went to law school that we lived apart for a while. It was torture. The two of us gel together perfectly and never get on each other's nerves. She's the first person in my life I know, without a doubt, loves me. Bash would let me live here for the rest of my life if it's what Chloe wants, but surely, he'll get tired of me.

So, while he's not letting me pay him for rent or bills or food, I'm putting every last dime I can into savings. Between that and hopefully getting promoted to portfolio manager with my accounting firm, I might be able to put a down payment on a house within the next two years. One with a shower just like this.

Now that my skin is red and blotchy from the heat, I turn off the taps and wrap a towel around myself, then pad across the heated floor to the vanity. Concealer. I need concealer. Lots of it. Working long hours, then coming home and working on the makeup brand is doing a number on my under eyes. I guess I'm really going to put the concealer formula we came up with to the test trying to cover up the dark circles.

One part of the large vanity is filled with eyeshadows, lipsticks, liners, blush, contour sticks, foundation, and my new best friend, concealer. I love makeup, and it's been fun experimenting with all the different ones we've created. Although the other girls are more willing to play with colors, I stick to my black winged liner and blood-red lipstick combo. It's classic and goes with my whole aesthetic.

I scan through the still-unnamed lipsticks and pick the one I keep going back to. We came up with four reds, but this particular one is the perfect shade with blue undertones that give it that vampy vibe. Just what I like. When you work in a man's world— I'm only one of three women in my firm—looking like a badass bitch comes in handy.

It's going to be another long day. It feels like every day is long lately. The crappy part is I don't love the job I spent four years preparing for. Whatever. It pays well and has excellent benefits. Things I was never blessed with growing up. So, like it or not, I'm thankful as hell for it.

"Go kick some ass," I tell myself in the mirror before I grab the tube of vamp red lipstick that I still need to think of a name for and head out for the day.

When I step out of the front door, I do a double take at my car. Sitting on the hood is a brown paper bag with an attached note waving at me in the cool morning breeze.

I look around for anyone who might have left it, but there's no one in sight. The property is locked down like Fort Knox with guards, cameras, and probably some man-eating dogs; and I'm pretty sure there's even a piranha pond somewhere. So, whoever left it is someone who belongs here. Man, I'm getting paranoid. All this security and overprotective men have gotten to me.

After I toss my purse into the back seat, I grab the bag and rip off the note.

Paisley,

I may not be the boss of you, but not eating all day is unacceptable. For once, don't be stubborn and eat these snacks. They're all packaged, so you can rest assured that I didn't poison them.

-Kieran

M y lips twitch, and I try so hard to fight a smile, but it doesn't work. The guy is a major pain in the ass. I'm not sure major is the right word. Tremendous, maybe? Enormous? But this was nice. Even if he did write a snarky note. I guess I deserve it for how snappy I was last night.

Peeking into the bag, I sigh. Granola bars, protein bars, fruit snacks—which he gets bonus points for because those are the superior snack—beef jerky, a banana, crackers, and a bunch of other random stuff.

Being the brat that I am, I kind of want to go over to his house, pound on his door, and tell him he's definitely not the boss of me. Just because. Instead, I put the snacks in the back, next to my purse, and head to work, feeling just a tad bit more optimistic about the day ahead.

M y optimistic attitude doesn't last more than twenty minutes after walking into my office. Chuck, my boss, saunters in and plops himself and his big belly down in a chair across from me. He looks like a cat who caught a mouse.

"You got the Callahan account. It's about time. They've been hesitant to sign with us for years."

My stomach does a giddy little dance. "They're a great couple." Great is an understatement. They have more money than God, but they're truly decent people. They give back and use their wealth to help people instead of hoarding it all. Not that they have to give it away. They've earned every dollar they have, and it would be their right to hang onto it. One day, I hope I'm in a position to do the same. It won't be at the magnitude the Callahans do, but that's okay.

"I think you should share this account with Adam. It's a big one to take on yourself, and Adam has more experience with large portfolios."

My blood runs cold, and the excitement in my tummy turns to acid that's burning a hole in it.

He is out of his ever-loving mind. I'm not sharing jack squat. There isn't a portfolio manager in this building who shares accounts. Each one of us has worked up from entry-level accountants with the company to where we are now. We've proven ourselves. Being one of the very few women in the firm, I've worked twice as hard to prove myself worthy of the position.

I sit up straighter and square my shoulders. "I'm not sharing this account. I've worked day and night for the past several months, securing the Callahan portfolio. I'm the one who met with them over and over to answer all of their questions and concerns. I've worked tirelessly on their proposal and my recommendations. They trust me and have chosen to work with me."

Chuck stares at me in stunned silence. Obviously, he wasn't expecting that response. Did he think I was going to give him a high-five and thank him for assuming I couldn't handle it myself?

He must realize how pissed I am because instead of arguing, he stands and sighs. "Well, that's your right, I suppose. But maybe think on it. It's your entire career on the line if you mess this up. At least if you have someone else on the account with you, it's more reassurance that you'll be successful with the Callahans."

Then, he turns and strides out of my office like he didn't just ask me to share my clients with his dickwad of a son. Okay, Adam isn't a total dick. At least he hasn't been to me, but I keep my distance. There's definitely been some favoritism for him since his dad is higher-up in the company, which means he can't be trusted. It's one of the reasons I want that promotion so badly, so I don't have to work under Chuck.

Irritation settles itself right on top of my shoulders, and after a few minutes of sitting here being pissed off, I get to work. I won't get the job if I don't prove I'm capable and driven, and dammit, after that little meeting, I'm even more driven.

Not even an hour passes when there's a knock at my door, and Adam pokes his head inside, wearing that same eerie, cat-caught-the-mouse smile. "Hey, Paisley."

Before I respond, he steps into my office and promptly settles in one of the chairs.

"Good morning, Adam," I reply slowly.

Am I about to get railroaded for the second time today?

"Dad, uh, I mean, Chuck just told me the good news."

My skin prickles as I stare across the desk at my coworker. "What good news would that be?"

I start to reach for the stapler but stop myself. Throwing office supplies at my coworker is definitely not the way to get a promotion. Then again, if I throw it hard enough and it hits him in the head, he might not be alive to try for the promotion. Huh . Something to consider for sure.

"He told me we'll be working together on the Callahan portfolio. Isn't that great? It will give us a chance to get to know each other better."

I swallow. Once. Twice. Three times. Each time, it gets harder because the sand that has somehow found its way into my throat is getting worse and worse.

Setting my hands flat on my desk, I rise and narrow my gaze at Adam. "I'm not sure what Chuck told you, but we will not be working together on the Callahan portfolio. I own that account, and I will work with them by myself as I already have told your father this morning. I am under no obligation to share any account with another employee, and I worked on my own to sign them with the firm."

Pink blotches bloom on his pale cheeks. If I weren't struggling so hard right now not to totally freak out on this dude, I might feel bad for him. It's obvious from the deer-in-the-headlights look on his face that he sincerely thought I had agreed to share the account with him. Fucking Chuck. The guy is a snake in the grass.

"Chuck thinks it's in the firm's best interest to have both of us assigned to the Callahans. I have to agree with him, Paisley. People like the Callahans tend to trust men more with decision-making around their money, so having me work with you could be beneficial."

Did I just hear him right? Did he just bring up the man card and think I'd turn into a puddle at his feet? Too bad for him, it went the other direction, and now I'm a raging fire.

"Get the hell out of my office, Adam. And don't ever," I raise my voice, "disrespect me like that again. Just because I have a vagina does not make me weak or less intelligent."

Adam blusters as he stands, shaking his head. "I didn't mean it like that, Paisley. There's no need to get emotional."

"Emotional? Why would I get emotional over the fact that your asshole father is trying to help your career along by taking accounts away from me that I busted my ass to get? Or that you insinuated that because I'm a female, I can't handle such a large account by myself? Get the fuck out of my office before I get Human Resources on the line and report you."

He stares at me for a long moment then rises to his feet, his eyebrows pinched. I do my best to stand as tall as possible and not let his towering height intimidate me. Up until now, Adam has always been professional around me, but now I'm starting to think I've been fooled. He might be a snake, just like his father.

"I really think you should reconsider this, Paisley."

I stand at my open door, don't say a word, and point out toward the hallway. As soon as he steps over the threshold, shaking his head, I slam the door behind him. Well, sort of slam. Not loud enough to create a scene for the entire firm but hard enough to give me a sliver of satisfaction.

These assholes want to doubt me because I'm a woman. Well, that's their biggest mistake because I will work myself to death to prove them wrong. So fucking wrong.

It's nearly one in the afternoon when my phone buzzes with a text message. When I pick up the device and look at the screen, I scrunch my nose. Kieran. Why the heck is he texting me? The fact that he has my number is annoying enough, but Bash insisted on giving it to all the top men. Then he took my phone and programmed their numbers for me. Controlling bastard. All of them.

Kieran: I hope you've been eating throughout the day. I won't be happy if you're not.

Rolling my eyes, I huff as I type out a response.

Paisley: I didn't think you were ever happy.

A sense of satisfaction rolls over me when three dots immediately appear on the screen. I don't know why, but getting under his skin is fun.

Kieran: Paisley. Just eat the fucking snacks.

My stomach growls. I haven't eaten anything all day or even taken a break. Maybe a walk outside would be good for my mood.

I dig through the brown paper bag and choose a few of the goodies to take with me.

As soon as I step out into the fresh air, I take a deep breath and smile as I rip open the granola bar. I should thank Kieran for his thoughtfulness because otherwise, I'd probably have gone without eating until tonight when I got home.

While I meander down one of the secluded and manicured walking paths near the office, I pull out my phone and snap a photo of the empty granola wrapper, then send it to him. I love walking this trail when the weather's nice, which doesn't happen often enough in the Pacific Northwest.

Paisley: There. I ate a granola bar. It was dry. Kind of like your personality.

God. I can't seem to not say snarky things to him every time we speak. Then again, he does the same. I guess it's just our thing.

Almost immediately, a response comes through, and it has me grinning.

Kieran: Eat another one. The first one wasn't enough because you're still a bit cranky.

Chuckling, I rip open a bag of crackers and snack on them between replying to the big, grumpy guy. Once in a while, I check over my shoulder, thinking someone else is on the path, but there's never anyone there.

Paisley: I'm only cranky because I'm tired of dealing with assholes today. All I want is a hot bath and an entire cold bottle of wine to myself, then I'll feel better. Seriously, thank you for the snacks. I needed them.

Kieran: Give me names of the assholes.

As soon as I read the question, a shiver slides down my spine. A cranky mafia guy asking for names usually isn't a good thing.

Paisley: It doesn't matter. I'm fine. No need to go all caveman and protect me. I can do that myself.

Kieran: And as I said before, just because you can, doesn't mean you should have to.

He is insufferable. I swear. He thinks he's a knight in shining armor or something. Deep down, really far down, in the pit of my stomach, I find it sweet. But it's still Kieran. I don't trust the guy as far as I can throw him, and considering he's a solid two-hundred and fifty-ish pounds, I probably can't even make him budge.

After I get back to the tall glass building and throw one last glance over my shoulder, I head directly to my office and shut the door behind me.

Paisley: Have a good day, Kieran.

I won't ever admit how many times I check my phone for the next hour to see whether he has replied. And I also won't admit that I feel a twinge of disappointment when he hasn't.