Page 13 of Bound To Be Mine

She burst into laughter. “Brown hair? Longish?”

“Exactly. We’re hopeless.”

We finished the bottle. Callum picked up the check before we piled into a taxi to take us to our hotel.

“I think I’m drunk,” I announced when we got out of the cab.

“You are,” Cleo said. “We all are. Nothing wrong with that.”

“Thank you guys for cheering me up,” I said.

“I’m sorry our cousin was such an asshole,” Callum said. “We’ll fix it.”

We said good night and went our separate ways. They promised to call me after their visit with the new parents tomorrow. I planned on sleeping in and sleeping off the hangover I knew would be coming.

As soon as I got to my room, I kicked off my heels and ordered a bottle of champagne from room service. Instead of the bath, I decided to wrap up in the hotel robe and watch TV. Something from the nineties. The best rom-com era.

The champagne arrived. I poured a glass and settled onto the bed and let Julia Roberts’ problems wash over me. It helped. It always helped.

What didn’t help was the persistent uninvited thoughts about a man I disliked. He was a pig. A very handsome pig.

I was kicking my own ass for making the trek out here. I should have been in Vegas working on the Nelson wedding. A big job with lots of publicity. The kind of event that would bolster my reputation. Briggs had no idea what he was missing out on.

And dammit, now I’m thinking about him again.

There was nothing to think about. He’d been rude. He’d been dismissive. He’d looked at me like I was nobody. I worked with rich people day in and day out. When I first got started, I had gotten those looks from rich people interviewing me. They didn’t know who I was. It took time to establish my name. Now when I walked into a room, people knew who I was and they respected me. Or they could find someone else to work with.

I refilled my glass, turned up the volume, and focused very hard on the television.

Briggs Blackwell didn’t matter. I didn’t need his help to be successful. I would do this with or without him.

5

BRIGGS

“Fuck,” I groaned.

I knew it was going to happen. I knew I was going to have one hell of a hangover. I had downed a glass of water and had taken two ibuprofen before I passed out, but it wasn’t enough.

I wasn’t twenty-one anymore. I did not bounce back as quickly as I used to. And I knew that. I knew it and I did it anyway.

I dragged my ass out of bed with a great deal of effort. Despite the water before bed, I had serious cotton mouth. My usual hot shower was not an option. I needed cold. I needed to get my brain to wake up.

I dressed in a black suit with a gray shirt. Then did my hair. A few drops of Visine and it was as good as it was going to get.

When I walked into the kitchen, I grimaced when I saw the mess. It looked like a horde of raccoons had raided my kitchen. I remembered ordering pizza and then decided I wanted Chinese. The containers were scattered across the counters. My housekeeper had her work cut out for her today.

I left my penthouse and made my way to the parking garage with my sunglasses on. Even the dim light hurt my head.

At the office, I stepped out of the elevator, my head pounding like a kettle drum. I was already composing a mental list of what I needed to make it through the day. Darker sunglasses were definitely at the top of the list. Why the hell did I have to have an office with windows?

Coffee. I needed a gallon of coffee. More Advil.

“Jasmine,” I called out. My assistant usually greeted me at the elevator. I knew she was around somewhere. “Jasmine.”

Ow. Too loud.

I made my way to my office. She would show up soon enough.