Absolutely Mine

If I was going to be a man worthy of her, I couldn’t ask for a handout from my brother to take care of the woman I loved. Because yes, I loved her. Always had, even when she was cursing me.

One day I’d get her back.

For a second, I thought about how I’d told her to live her life. What if she did just that and ended up living it with someone else?

I blew out a frustrated breath. Then I would just have to get my shit together sooner. Because Jillian Evans was mine. She didn’t know it yet. But I did.

Chapter Four

Present Day

Today had to be the shittiest day of my life, beginning with the barista not securing the lid on my Double Chocolaty Chip Crème Frappuccino. Just as I waited for the party in my mouth to begin, the lid popped off and the party was on my bright white shirt.

I blew out a breath, standing there as the cool liquid dripped down my shirt.

“Here you go.”

The voice belonged to an almost cute but very nerdy guy who’d brought me napkins. And in almost any other scenario, I might have been flattered by the attention, but not today. Not only didn’t he hand the napkins to me, but using the wad, he proprietarily mopped up the excess liquid between my breasts as if he had the right. My jaw dropped.

When he finally realized what he was doing, he muttered a “Sorry,” with his hand still plastered to my chest.

I snatched the wad with my free hand, while shoving his away and glared at him.

“I was just trying to help,” he added.

Dryly, I said, “Thanks.”

Now I was seriously going to be late, and if fate had any mercy, I could slip by my boss’ office and into my cube before she noticed.

“Do you think we can go out sometime?”

I glanced up to see the guy still there. I let out a noisy grunt, tossed my Frappuccino into the nearest trash, and pushed through the door. My sour mood only soured more as I fought against the tide of professionals heading into work.

My breaths heaved as I raced through the lobby of my office building to the closing elevator door, shoving my way inside. I so needed to work out. The people around me seemed to clear a ring around me as I gulped in air after a mad dash down two blocks to make it to work. My craving for the Double Chocolaty Chip Crème Frappuccino might end up being the death of me.

“Morning, Jillian,” the receptionist called out as I stepped off the elevator. I bit back a curse as her friendly greeting was not so much co-worker hospitality. Rather it was an announcement to my boss that I was late, yet again. Albeit only five minutes, Cruella de My Manager ran a tight ship.

I hustled past my boss’ door without looking in and scrambled to my cubicle. I was grateful for the high walls that sectioned each tiny workspace off as I was trying to catch my breath. It was already crazy hot outside, and besides the massive coffee stain, I had sweat dampening my armpits.

Today had to be the worst day ever. I had to attend a meeting with a potential new client and the big boss. The day I looked a frightful hot mess.

“Jillian.”

The haughtiness for which my name had been said meant it could only be one person.

I turned my head and glanced at my boss over my shoulder. With false cheer, I replied, “Margret. Good morning.”

Her lips pursed. “You realize the importance of the meeting today and you couldn’t bother to be on time,” she said.

“It was only five minutes,” I countered, though I probably should have kept my mouth closed.

“If we can’t trust you to be prompt to work, how can I possibly trust you enough to give you one of our smaller campaigns?”

Smaller. It should have been a bad word, but I’d been working my ass off to be put in change of any client’s marketing campaign, large or small.

“You can,” I said.

Her eyebrow arched. “You weren’t here to give us the presentation materials.”

That had been a test, and according to her look, I’d failed.

“I have them.”

I reached for my bag and pulled out the thumb drive with the media for the meeting. When I turned to hand it to her, her eyes latched on my coffee-stained shirt. Then her eyes met mine again.

“And what is this?” she asked. “How do you plan to sit in a meeting like this?” Her nose wrinkled like she smelled something bad.

“I’m going to run across the street and get another shirt,” I said.

Though the idea could be felt in my gut, the only clothing store in several blocks was a boutique that carried clothes that cost more than my paycheck.