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Frankly, he didn’t care about the company. He just cared about someone there.
Chelsea Raquel Winters a.k.a. Chess.
The one who got away.
There’d been countless women before her, and countless more after her, but Chess had carved out a place for herself in his heart and refused to move out. She was still fodder for his erotic dreams and the woman who crossed his mind whenever people talked of marriage. She was a past that refused to be forgotten.
After their painful breakup, he’d zealously avoided her because it hurt too much to think of her. He stopped talking about her, asked others to stop talking about her when with him, and avoided searching for her. For eight years, he lived without knowing anything about her. However, a few months ago, he’d met her at a business function.
Shocked was an understatement for how he’d felt when he’d seen her across the room. The past had tumbled in like a rogue boulder barreling down a steep hill. The eight years between them had disappeared like chaff, and it felt like they’d just broken up the previous day. He was happy yet sad, thrilled but scared.
But Chess didn’t seem to have the same emotions. When their eyes met, she’d given him a blank stare then promptly looked away. She didn’t even acknowledge him. For the rest of the evening, she diligently avoided him then snuck out before the event was even over, thwarting any attempt to reconnect.
He should’ve left her alone after that. He should’ve continued pretending that she wasn’t the ghost that haunted his memories. But he couldn’t.
Seeing her had sparked too many of the feelings that he’d buried. Soon, he started asking around about her and found out that she worked for Synovent.
He didn’t do anything with that information, mostly because he knew that Chess would throw him out on his ass if he just appeared in front of her without a good reason.
But now he had a good reason.
She couldn’t ignore him if they were working together.
He grinned.
2
N
OT ANOTHER ONE.WITH A groan, Chess lifted her leg so she could better see the damage she’d caused.
The pantyhose currently covering her right leg had a gaping tear where it was supposed to cover her knee. She groaned again. This was the third pair of pantyhose that she’d ruined today, and it was barely seven in the morning. At this rate, she’d have to take out a loan just to keep buying pantyhose.
She stared at the rip for quite a while, willing it to magically repair itself. It didn’t. After another frustrated groan, she peeled the filmy fabric off her leg and tossed it to the floor, letting it join the growing pile of clothes that surrounded her bed.
“Okay, Chelsea. Get it together.” Sitting up, she glanced at the clock.
It was seven-thirteen. That meant that she had one hour and forty-seven minutes left before she had to punch in for work. That was a lot of time.
She moved to her underwear drawer and upended all its contents on her bed in search of another pair of pantyhose. She found one, but it had a rip right in the crotch. She decided to put it on anyway because she wouldn’t be flashing her coochie to anyone today. But just as she bent to pull it up her leg, she heard a rip. The slit at the back of her tight dress had unilaterally decided to widen itself because her ass was too fat for it.
Why? Why? Why? Why was this happening to her on the most important day of her career? Things were supposed to go smoothly today so she could march into the office like a boss.
It’s okay. It’s okay, Chess soothed herself. She’d put out a gray pantsuit too just in case she didn’t like the dress. She moved closer to her closet to grab the suit that was hanging on the door. But just as she plucked the jacket from the hanger, she saw the large yellow handprint on the pants.
What the heck? How did that get there?
Memories of the art project she’d helped her son with the previous evening flooded in. He must’ve come to her bedroom while she wasn’t looking and left his prints on her pants. Ugh! She almost left the room to go tear his little bad ass a new one, but remembered that he’d already left for school.
After taking a deep breath to calm herself down, she turned back to her closet.
Okay, what else can we wear?She scanned her clothes.Blue pantsuit, beige skirt-suit or black dress-suit?
The blue pantsuit came with trousers so it could hide her unshaven legs, but it was a little too big so it made her look fatter. Given that she was already just a cheeseburger away from obese, anything that made her look bigger was out of the question. She pushed the pantsuit further back into the closet.
Beige skirt-suit?Hmm…. It came with a pencil skirt that made her ass look great, but the coat looked like it was made for a wrestler with those shoulder pads.Nope!
Black dress-suit? Nah! She’d worn it to a colleague’s funeral just a week ago. It seemed like bad luck to wear it on a day when she needed all the good luck she could get.
