“That’s a lovely comfort zone you’re treading in,” Lana mocked.
“Goodbye, Lana,” I said in a sing-song voice.
She grinned. “Talk to you tonight, babe.”
Thank fuck it was Friday.
I’d contemplated everything Lana had said the entire way to my office—which was probably why I’d nearly broken my ankle on the sidewalk.
At least judging by the others in the office elevator, I was not the only person with a shit morning. Everyone was wet and clutching coffees like that was their job, not the ones we were heading to. My new marketing firm was on the thirteenth and fourteenth floors of a large building. I’d founded it with a friend just before meeting Tyler three years ago. We’d started out small, taking on a couple of my clients that I already had and bringing them in for full projects rather than just a few ads like I had been delivering.
Things were going really well, and since moving to California the year before and adding this new office space and a cluster of employees, we’d grown exponentially, even landing a few more prominent clients.
Jasmine, my assistant, met me as the elevator doors opened on the fourteenth floor. I frowned at her standing there looking antsy and excited, a grin on her face and clenching her hands together in front of her.
“Morning, Jasmine,” I said upon reaching her.
“Good morning,” she replied in a chipper voice.
“What’s happening?” I asked. “You never meet me at the doors.”
“Did you not get the email this morning?” she asked.
I took a sip of my coffee—my too-hot coffee—and grimaced at the way it burned my mouth. “I’ve made it a rule never to check my email before the start of a workday,” I told her. I’d started too many mornings already stressed out by checking email, and had chosen a few years back to protect my sanity by holding off until logging in.
“Why?” I batted away a heart balloon that someone walking past was carrying. “What did I miss?”
“New client,” Jasmine said as she plucked a rose from one of the tables and smelled it. “Ezzie is going around ordering decorations already to celebrate.”
Another heart balloon came into my sight line, and I started to realize they were everywhere. And the moment we rounded the corner, I stopped in my tracks.
Hearts—giant red hearts—in balloon form hovered all around the open workspace. There were pink, white, and red confetti hearts on all the tables, streamers on the doors, pink heart pillows on the community couches, and some of our poufs had been replaced by red floor pillows.
I couldn’t stop staring at the audacious decor. “Did someone get engaged?” I asked.
“Ezzie thought it was fitting,” Jasmine said.
“It isMay,” I said, wholly flabbergasted that there was heart decor everywhere. “What the actual fuck,” I muttered. We continued walking to the back of the room where my office was. “Who is the client?”
The phone on Jasmine’s desk rang before she could even respond. She slipped away quickly to answer it, and I strode inside my office, tossing my bag onto the chair by the door. Red roses decorated my desk in a tall white vase, no card or indication as to who they were from. Though the more I thought about it, I realized maybe they were just part of Ezzie’s decor.
I wracked my brain trying to figure out who she had landed for her to be changing the office over to red and pink instead of our signature black and green.
There was an email with the subject line ’NEW CLIENT BITCH’ at the top of the priorities folder on my computer. I took a moment to settle in my chair before opening it, and when I did, my entire body froze at the logo in the middle of the email.
My heart skipped, heat suddenly beating on my cheeks. I felt like someone was lighting a fire to my entire being. Visions of hands, hearts, snow, and sweating flesh flashed through my mind. Candy hearts on my tongue, a hand across my ass, the moans of cursing to the gods.
“That’s my good girl.”
The memory of that rasping voice sent a shiver down my spine.
“Oh, fucking hell,” I muttered.
Jasmine knocked on the doorframe, making me flinch. “Dani wants to know if you have time to review the Halloween campaign she’s working on.”
The email had me off-kilter. All noise around me muted.
Cupid’s fucking Arrow.
