The Office Party

My entire world comes to a stop, and I shake my head in disbelief. There’s no way in hell that he knows I’m here, so either I’m dreaming right now, or the universe is playing a ridiculously cruel joke on me.

“I don’t know anyone named Garrett West,” I say. “There must be another Savannah Grey here. Sorry.”

“You and your sister are the only guests on this side of the resort, Miss Grey.” He stretches his hand out a bit further, trying to hand it to me.

I don’t take it.

“For security purposes, we made him verify a few things,” he says. “I even asked him to describe you.”

“How did he describe her, then?” Georgia asks, moving next to me. “I mean, I don’t know a Mr. West either, so this man might be a stalker of some sort.”

He gives us a blank stare.

I’m tempted to plop down on my chair and enjoy the rest of my day, but he pulls a crumpled post-it note from his pocket.

Clearing his throat, he begins to read. “And I quote … She’s a fucking vision, but since I need to be specific, she has almond-colored eyes and deep brown curls that frame her face and complement her skin. If she’s anywhere near the water when you give her my message, she’ll probably have her hair pulled up in a polka dot red and black scarf since she only buys that color for some reason.”

I pull the scarf off my head and hide it behind my back. “I’m not wearing a scarf today.”

“Her lips are always coated in a bright shade of red,” he continues. “And whenever she’s lying, she tends to talk very fast and—”

“Okay, enough.” I snatch the envelope from his hands. “Thank you very much for this message.”

“You’re very welcome, Miss Grey.” He nods and walks away.

When he’s out of sight, I rip the envelope to shreds and toss the pieces into the sea. Then I plop down into my chair and try to think of where he is right now.

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.

ONE (B)

Savannah

Last Christmas

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.