Bonus Chapter

Well, isn’t this fucking great?

A tight smile pulls at my lips as I enter the wide space IMP rented for the Christmas party. I swear to God, sometimes I wish there were still twelve of us instead of the current one hundred employees. 

A few members of my team walk by and send me the usual look. The scared, self-doubting, intimidated one I worked hard for them to have whenever I’m around. It makes them more agreeable, speeds the work, and keeps their heads down. But I’m starting to wonder whether it’s worth it.

“Mr. Hassholm,” Dianne says. She smiles lightly, then immediately looks away.

With a weak wave, I don’t return the grin and instead move through the space, looking at the Christmas decorations over the walls. Shit, it’s like Santa vomited in here. Red drapes, tablecloths, flowers. Even most of of my colleagues are dressed in red. Huge candy canes hang from the ceilings, fake snow and Christmas trees placed too close together and crowding the space.

I approach the bar, then wait for the bartender to prepare my drink and see the owner of the company laughing at some young interns’ jokes—though I’m pretty sure it’s not their humor he’s interested in. 

Either way, none of my business. I’m just here to make an appearance, shake some hands, wish some people “Merry Christmas”, then go back home and fall in a comatose state on my couch. 

Twenty-seven hours. That’s how much I slept in the last five days. I’m pretty sure a body needs several more to function, but between the artisanal fair we’re working on and my croissants project, it’s the best I could do. The fair is going like shit, but at least I’ve managed to make a perfect batch of croissants. Perfect. So perfect, in fact, that my heart sings in contentment as I picture them on my kitchen counter. With a dark brown, crunchy crust, and a beautifully soft dough inside. Airy and bubbly. 

“Shane.”

I fetch my beer and turn to the familiar voice. Her short, dark bob looks plastered over her head like a helmet, her unfriendly and attractive face close to mine. “Marina.”

The corner of her lip twitches as she leans even closer, a cloud of dry perfume hitting me like a punch in the face. “I got that call from Daniel. He sorted the space problem.”

Thank fuck. 

I nod as she leans back, then take a deep breath. Looks like I might be sleeping tonight. That idiot of a project manager who’s been assigned to my team miscounted the stand spaces we’d need for the fair, and two shops who have paid a handsome sum to have their products showcased have been cut out. I swear, I’m so close to begging the CEO to fire Terrence. No one’s that stupid. “All right. Enjoy the party, then.”

She narrows her cold, blue eyes at me—even Terrence would figure out why. She wants me to thank her. To tell her she’s done a great job, that she’s invaluable to the team. She really is. True, she’s also unbearable and spends far too long on her makeup at work, but she’s efficient, quick and a great assistant. Even so, I don’t give out compliments. Not unless they’re truly deserved. All she’s done is her job, and she gets paid for it.

“Enjoy the party?” She mocks.

I give her a nod, pointing my glass around me. “This crowd of drunks? That’s a party.”

With a scoff, she crosses her arms. “How would you even know what enjoyment looks like?”

“Anything else you need from me?” I ask. When presented with the option of being nasty, Marina will always go that way. I’ve learnt it’s easier to ignore it than it is to engage.

She puckers her plump lips, coated in some wet-looking red lipstick, then clicks her tongue. “No. no,” she says in a painfully sarcastic voice. “It’s just that I terribly enjoy your company.”

“What is it, then?” 

She takes out her tablet, scrolling on the screen for seemingly forever, and I glance at the food-covered tables, spotting the one that hosts desserts. I don’t even eat that many sweets—that’s not what appeals to me about them. It’s feeding people my desserts that I like. Riley, my mom. I’d shove some pastry down Marina’s throat some days too, but that’s for a whole different reason. 

I study the oatmeal cookies on the right. We got everything from a great bakery downtown, but mine are better. Crunchier, and Poppy’s Bakery uses way too much butter. But they do make a mean Oreo cheesecake, and I’m pleased to notice they delivered us two of them, just like I asked.

They’re on the left end of the table, looking creamy and illegally sweet. The view makes my stomach gurgle just as a woman steps in front of it and serves herself a slice. And in a fraction of a second, I forget all about the cheesecake.

Who is she? I’ve never seen her before, though we’ve been hiring people at such an alarming speed, that’s also true for many other people in this room. But she—she’s spectacular. Gorgeous. No, more than gorgeous. She’s like I’m looking at a piece of art that leaves me speechless. Like breathing fresh air after years of pollution. Like feeling the sun on your skin after nothing but darkness.

She turns and shyly looks around, a spoon trapped between her lips and her knee lightly bouncing. Her hair is pulled into a side-braid, but some brunette locks fall down her cheeks, and, shit, somehow I just know she looks even more gorgeous with that beautiful hair tumbling down her shoulders in waves. Her small feet are fitted into a pair of high, nude heels and her legs are impossibly long. 

Heat moves down my body as if my blood’s on fire, and squaring my shoulders, I shamelessly let my eyes roam up to her knees, then notice with more than a little displeasure that her thighs are hidden by the white fabric of her tight dress. 

Her skin is fair, her eyes a beautiful amber brown. Her cheeks are slightly pink and her lips arch like the most perfect heart. Even her ears are sexy. Her delicate neck, her arched brows as she looks down at her plate. 

Who is she?

“… call you?”

I swallow. Marina’s voice reaches me, but I can’t take my eyes off the brunette woman who’s burying her spoon in her slice of cheesecake with a smile. 

“Shane?”

I glance at Marina. “What?”

“When do you want him to call you?”

Him? Who’s him? “Tomorrow. Any time.”

She nods, noting it down on her tablet, then continues speaking as I focus on the remarkable woman a few steps away from me. I can’t help it. It’s like she’s sucked all light and color out of the room, and she’s the keeper of it all. The only person in here worth looking at.

My eyes dart to her wide hips, thin waist, and I’m plenty aware I suck, but my gaze shoots to her cleavage. To the hint of skin that peeks through the fabric. She has the most perfect body, the most gorgeous, infectious smile. 

Removing the spoon from between her lips, she lets out a hum of satisfaction. Though I can’t hear it, it almost vibrates inside me as her lips press, her tongue darting over the upper one. My knees nearly buckle.

“What the hell is wrong with you today?”

I rip my gaze off her and turn to Marina. My mind’s hazed, rushing. My heartbeat’s over the roof, and heat covers the skin of my neck in sweat. “Nothing.” I take a sip of my beer, then hook a finger into the collar of my shirt, hoping it’ll give me some relief. “What were you saying?”

“Can we move the meeting to twelve?”

What meeting? Why? And who cares? All I want to know is who that woman is. “Sure.”

“And the dinner? Can you postpone it to next Tuesday?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. Now, the new designer. HR selected a few candidates. Can we go over it next week?”

Maybe she’ll look over here. “Okay.”

“And once we’re done, we’ll need to—”

“Who is she?” I burst.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit. I wasn’t supposed to ask that out loud. Maybe to Billy or one of the other directors. But not to any of my employees—Marina especially.

Marina’s head turns to the woman, then she shrugs. “Don’t know her.” 

Fuck. I try to bury my disappointment, but I think it shows, because Marina smirks. 

“Why?”

I sip my beer. Once, twice, three times. It does nothing to soothe my thirst—rather, it feels like using a bucket of water to smother a forest fire. But, at least, I’m stalling. “Never seen her before.”

Marina hums, throwing her another look. “You’ve never seen lots of people in this room. Like that old, ugly guy?” She points at a man by the far corner of the room. “You don’t want to know who he is, though. Do you?”

Well, isn’t this fucking great. I give Marina my signature look, though it doesn’t work on her like it does on the others. She knows it’s for show. 

“Uuuh. Spooky,” she says flatly. “Unless you plan to take out a whip and show me a good time, keep your glare for someone who’s actually afraid of you.”

“What else do you want?” I spit out. I don’t know who that woman is or why she’s here. She might be someone’s wife, and I might never see her again. Even if she works for IMP, she’s not on our floor, and I never go to the cafeteria. So, tonight’s the moment to find out. Marina’s gotta go.

She tilts her head with a knowing smirk. “Nothing. Don’t let me interrupt you mid-erection.”

Is it that obvious? Fuck—is it showing? Uncomfortably shifting weight on my feet, I focus back on the Goddess in the white dress. I never hoped to control Marina, and I surely won’t start tonight. “Consider it your Christmas present for me and leave. Bye.”

“You’re a mean one, Mr. Asshole,” she teases. “Though it isn’t your heart that’s grown three sizes, is it?”

“Leave,” I growl.

“Suit yourself. But I do know some things about her.”

She spins around, but before she can take a step, I clasp her wrist, then immediately let go. Have I lost my mind? 

“I’m—I’m so—sorry,” I say, looking at my hand with horror. I can’t go grabbing my employees—what the fuck am I doing?

Her lips part as her eyes set on me, wide and amused. Then, with a joyless chuckle, she takes a step closer. “Are you…” She traps her bottom lip with her teeth, then dramatically bats her lashes “…crushing over the new girl?”

New girl. That must mean she works here. Holy shit. She works here. I’m almost too happy to smother a smile. “Tell me, Marina.”

“I want a raise.”

I roll my eyes. “No. Just tell me.”

“My own office.”

Every second I’m not with that woman, it’s a moment lost. My annoyance grows. My restlessness mounts. “Just. Tell. Me.”

She shrugs and turns around, arms crossed over her stomach.

“Okay, okay,” I say, taking a step toward her. Not too close, just in case the woman notices us. I don’t want her to think there’s anything between Marina and me. “Okay,” I repeat as she tilts her head. “Two hours lunch break for a month.”

“A year.”

“Six months,” I mutter through gritted teeth.

Her smile turns wicked, her eyes thinning up with a gleam of delight. “Deal.” She leans closer, then turns to the woman. “She’s the new assistant project manager. Online campaigns and marketing.”

So, she works for Billy’s team. I watch her as she chats with a blonde woman I’ve never seen before, and though the blonde one is attractive, she pales in comparison.

“Apparently, she’s kicking ass.”

My chest inflates with pride. It makes no sense—I don’t even know her name. I can’t be proud of her achievements. But somewhere deep inside me, something swells with contentment. My girl is beautiful, she’s smart, she kicks ass. And she’s not my girl, but she is. She could be, if she wanted to.

“She assists Alice,” Marina continues, and when she’s met by my vacant gaze, she shrugs. “Blonde, curly hair. Loads of split ends.”

Well, that clears it up.

“Either way, Alice hates her.” She chuckles. “Apparently, girl’s been here a week, and she’s already doing a better job than her. And Billy noticed. Keeps saying she’ll be a director in no time.”

Oh, my girl is not just smart. She’s talented. Very talented, if Billy talks of her in such endearing terms. Especially if her direct superior hates her, which is something I’ll have to deal with. Make sure that Billy takes good care of her, helps her climb up the ladder, if that’s what she wants. And that she knows what she’s signing up for too. There’s no way she should work sixty hours in a week—not that I’d ever stop anyone from achieving their goals. But she should rest more than four hours a night and enjoy life. She deserves to eat dessert and laugh like she’s doing right now. With her teeth showing and her eyes glimmering even in the semi-darkness.

“Ew, Shane. I’ve never seen you smile before.” Marina says as she twists her face in disgust.

Christ, Shane. Pull yourself together, can you? 

“Anything else?” I ask.

“No. Enjoy the boner,” she says dryly. 

As she struts away in her impossibly high heels, I turn my utter focus to the woman. She hasn’t looked at me once, but I wonder how it’d feel to have those eyes on me. To have them stare deep into mine before I kiss her. 

“Shane!” Robert says. He’s the head of the sales department and a bore. Certainly not the person I wish to be talking to right now. 

“Hi, Robert,” I greet him as I shake his hand. “Excuse me, but I’m being summoned.” I point at an indefinite spot on the other side of the room and walk away, closer to her.

Once I’m on the other side of the room, she’s still talking to the blonde woman. Maybe it’s another new colleague. All I know is that she’s almost eaten a second portion of cheesecake, and it’s so enticing I’m hoping she’ll grab a third serving. 

I have to talk to her. I have to. 

Because this might be my only chance. 

She works here. Which means it’s just a matter of time before someone tells her I’m Mr. Asshole, the most hated boss at IMP. Maybe the most hated one in a thousand miles. Hell, my employees would say I’m the worst on the whole damn planet. And if she hears about how I made that intern cry last year, or how I fired four people in a week a couple of months back, an idea will form in her head. It’ll be too late.

I have to talk to her tonight.

I gulp down the rest of my beer and fix my hair desperately. Like a teenager. Then I regret drinking the beer, because that’s probably what I smell like right now. That’s not too sexy. Not when she probably smells like chocolate and cream and sheer perfection. 

As soon as the blonde woman walks away, I take a deep breath and approach. She turns her back to me, and for a moment, I halt. What can I say to impress her? I can’t just say hi, can I? She’s worth more. More than the, “Wanna hang out tonight?” I give one-night-stands. 

She glances down at the table with a greedy smile, and I could stare at her expression for hours. I fucking adore it. She loves dessert. No one I know loves it as much as I do, and I’ve never seen anyone enjoy it as she’s enjoying it right now. It looks like she’s trying to resist the temptation as her eyes roam from the cookies, to the cake, then to the slices of pie. Maybe that’s what I should tell her. I should walk to her and say… 

Hi. See those cookies, right there? They’re great, but mine are better. And I want to bake for you. Any time you want. Your favorite, whatever that is. I’ll wake you up every day with the smell of sugar and butter and cocoa. I promise that if you give me one chance to do it, it’ll be the best choice of your life.

Yep. That’ll make her run the other way quickly enough. Drying sweat off my forehead, I approach her side, side-glancing at her. She still hasn’t noticed me. Fuck—maybe it’s not that she’s so entranced by the desserts. Maybe she just doesn’t find me attractive. 

I take another side-step, pretending to look at the pastries like her, and the next one will literally have us bump into each other. So, it’s time to decide. I think I’ll just go with, “Hi”. 

Ignoring the thumps of my heart and the brain alarm that warns me I’m about to be rejected, I turn to her. She’s close. So close, I can smell the flowery scent coming off her skin. It’s like she’s melted all the snow outside, and it’s spring already. 

Her arm moves forward, and cutting another small slice of Oreo cheesecake, she bites her lower lip. She sets it on her paper plate, and as she brings the first spoonful of her third serving to her lips, I smile. 

I think I might be in love with her.

She must feel my gaze, because she turns around, but someone moves in front of me before our eyes meet. “Hey,” he says, passing the beautiful woman a drink. “Here’s your water. Sorry, the line at the bar was insane.”

Oh, fuck.

I freeze, and the guy turns to me, his brows furrowing tightly. He’s blond, sort of attractive, I guess. With dark blue eyes. He looks about her age, so he can’t be her father. Maybe it’s a friend. Please, tell me he’s her brother. “Do you mind?” he asks, gesturing down. Of course, I’m right by their side, where he wants to be. 

I step back, and he wraps his arm around her waist. So, definitely not a brother. Not a friend either, I’m afraid. It’s like someone’s scraping my skin from the inside. And I can’t move. As she smiles at him and takes the drink, as her hand moves flat to his chest, as her eyes fill with love. I was right—her eyes. The look in them makes her even more excruciatingly beautiful. And if it were directed at me… I don’t know. I think I’d die. I’d have a heart attack and die with a smile on my face. 

But it’s not directed at me. It’s for her boyfriend to enjoy. A boyfriend she’s clearly in love with. One that makes her happy, and I hope with all myself, one that gets her all the desserts she wants. 

When he turns to me again, his eyes narrowed and his brows bent in a silent question, I grab a cookie and turn around, striding the opposite way. But it feels like I’ve left a piece of me behind. Dropping the cookie into the bin—there’s no way I can eat anything now—I turn to her once more. One last time, I need to see her. 

Okay, that’s bullshit. I’ll look at her plenty, if I get the chance. Maybe at the cafeteria, if she’s ever there. Or I can meet Billy on his floor sometimes. It happens that our projects overlap and I need his expertise. And if it’s meant to be, maybe one day she won’t be with that blonde asshole anymore. Maybe she’ll fall out of love. Or maybe she won’t and she’ll be happy forever. 

But I can check. Make sure she keeps smiling like that whenever I see her around the office. Maybe one day she’ll notice me. All I know is that keeping away from her is the best I can do. I won’t be able to help how much I look at her—nor my expression when I do, apparently, because I’m smiling like a middle-grader with a crush. 

I walk to the door, huffing out my disappointment. I could easily find out her name, now that I know a little more about her. But I don’t want to. The first time I hear her name, I want it to be from her pink, beautiful lips. I just know she has the most beautiful voice. And maybe one day she’ll say my name too.

As I reach the exit, I turn one last time. She’s still there, leaning against her boyfriend, smiling up as he whispers words on to her lips. His girl. When he lets her go, she steals another look at the desserts table and walks away, disappearing with him into the crowd. 

I don’t know what she’s done to me, but she’s done something all right. This—this has never happened before. I’ve never even been in love or in long-term relationships, but now fifteen minutes of ogling a stranger, and it feels like my heart will never be the same. For those fifteen minutes I’ve seen her, she’s become my everything. She’s elevated me, made me feel unlike my usual unhappy, lonely self. For those fifteen minutes, as I fell in love with every single thing I could see about her, she’s made every problem disappear. 

She’s more than a crush. 

She’s pure Heaven.