Broad shoulders. Unruly black hair. Killer dimples. Cole Bennett. This could not be happening. She wasn’t supposed to see him again—ever. So what the hell was he doing in Pritchard’s office?
“Have a seat.” Pritchard once again waved her forward like a poodle in need of coaching. Seeing no other option, she complied silently, taking the overstuffed leather chair next to Cole. She managed to avoid looking him in the eye as she crossed her legs and sat stiffly by his side. “Olivia, I would like to introduce you to Cole Bennett, my new partner.”
No, that couldn’t be right. Did he just say partner? She stared at Pritchard blankly. Speechless. Here he sat in his posh office, pleased as pie with his new partner, while he was ripping her dreams apart.
She felt as if her world had been tipped on its axis, throwing everything into chaos. Little black dots danced at the edges of her vision, making Pritchard, who was as sharp as they came, appear fuzzy. A cold sweat broke out on her forehead, the back of her neck, and that hollow spot right between her breasts.
Not good.
Olivia’s stomach dropped. When it lurched back with the fury of a category five hurricane, she feared her breakfast might make an unwelcome appearance on Pritchard’s desk.
“Cole, this is Olivia Masterson. Olivia’s my right hand around the office and will be able to show you—”
“Excuse me.”
Not giving a crap if Pritchard was offended by her hasty exit, she raced from the room and down the hall, throwing herself through the door of the ladies’ restroom without an ounce of grace or dignity. She quickly scanned the stalls, which, thankfully, were empty. Moving to the sink, she braced her hands against the porcelain bowl and took a deep breath. The face that stared back at her from the mirror was pale and ashen.
How could this be happening? Not only was she not getting the partnership, but a man who knew her more intimately than most was? Talk about getting royally screwed. There was no way she could face Cole every day. Or work under him, for that matter.
Olivia had worked so hard to keep her professional life and personal life separate. She’d spent the last five years rubbing elbows with the most eligible bachelors in the city and she’d never accepted one offer of a drink, dinner, show, or museum date. Not even when the super-hot guy from finance had invited her to the invitation-only gallery opening of one of her favorite New York artists. Compared to some of her peers, she’d been a freaking saint. It wasn’t fair. She broke the rules one freaking time and this is what happened?
Fate was a cruel-ass bitch.
Shaking with frustration, and needing an outlet for her anger, she spun from the sink and kicked the metal trashcan with all the energy she could muster. It banged against the wall, so she kicked it again for good measure.
The resounding clang reverberated through the empty bathroom, bouncing off the tile floor and providing a much needed reality check. As if her day wasn’t crappy enough, she’d just scuffed the hell out of the Burberry heels she hadn’t really been able to afford in the first place. The trashcan hadn’t fared so well either, and was now sporting a rather massive dent.
Stellar.
She’d be faced with the evidence of her meltdown every time she came to pee.
Olivia turned on the faucet and splashed cold water on her face. She had to keep it together. Okay, maybe it was a little late for that, but she could recover from this. She couldn’t afford a total breakdown, seeing as how the floor wasn’t going to swallow her up and put an end to her misery any time soon.
Sure, she’d been kicked in the teeth, but she wasn’t a quitter. Hadn’t she proven that time and again throughout the years, overcoming everything life had thrown at her? Cole Bennett would be no different. She would go back to Pritchard’s office and hear what he had to say. Then she’d return to her desk and do her job. Come hell or high water, she’d show Pritchard he’d made a mistake.
She could do this. She had to. What other choice did she have?
…
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Cole hadn’t believed his eyes, or his bad luck, when Olivia had walked into Pritchard’s office. She was wearing a pair of black-framed glasses and her hair was slicked back in a bun, but there was no mistaking those legs or the sway of her hips as she crossed the room. Damn, she had nice stems. He shouldn’t have been looking, but he was only human. And just seeing those legs again got his blood pumping to areas best not roused in the office.