Later that evening, fireworks burst overhead, eager laughter swirled around Chelsea, and an attentive waiter pressed a margarita with freshly crushed mint into her hand. After dinner earlier, she managed to call Jane and Catherine, and they decided to have a girls' night out, which involved Shawn Richmond driving the car and giving them VIP passes through the most expensive, new, and well-known pub in the city. It had been a wonderful reunion, and the three of them ended up sobbing and hugging and eventually ruining their make-up.Ah, this was life. After almost another drink, Jane was almost wasted and Catherine called her younger child on the phone, singing a lullaby. God knows what sort of Peppa Pig song it was. She shook her head and smiled at the embarrassed mom. It had been a couple of years, yet Chelsea saw how the couple still looked at each other's eyes like they were the only ones in the room."This is life, right?" Jane grumbled to Chelsea with a grin. She looked beautiful
"Maybe he had a reason, dear," Jane muttered. "It’s not too late to do that, is it?" Catherine asked, righteous indignation lighting up her face. "He shouldn’t get away with that! But I can talk to him and slap the asshole in the face for you." That’s her, Catherine: valiant champion of underdogs everywhere. She felt a rush of affection for her best friend and gave her a little shoulder shove. "I saw him earlier, in my sister-fiancée’s mansion." "Woah! My Dave? The asshole didn't even bother to see me?" Catherine asked. "I ignored the hell out of him and he offered me a job." Jane smirked. "I know where this is going." "Trust me, Jane, I'm going to make him pay for hurting the hell out of me." Catherine sighed, "Ah, that smarmy jerkwad would just have an excuse ready and waiting. Believe me, he’s agreed with so many of his advisors’ opinions that the man thinks the sun shines out of his ass and is responsible for our temperate London climate." Jane made a sympathetic noise. "
If she’d thought Dave had looked good in that T-shirt while at Sebastian's house one year ago—well, shut her mouth. And open it again, because those dimples were in danger of making Chelsea's jaw hit the floor. How could he look so good in a suit?He wore a dark navy suit, the jacket unbuttoned and the scarlet silk of his shirt making his skin almost glow. He’d tugged off his tie in the heat and was now absentmindedly wrapping it around and around his strong, graceful hands. His gorgeous eyes seemed to sparkle in the faint light of the torches and fireworks, and his hair fell in defiant curls around his face. A hint of stubble graced his cheeks, just enough to rasp against someone’s skin if he leaned down to claim their mouth with those full, pouty lips...Oops, Shawn was saying words. She should probably pay attention to Richmond’s words and not Dave’s lips and notice how Jane and Catherine are eying her like a mother hen.Though Dave’s lips were definitely more interesting.He’s got
The next morning, Chelsea dragged herself out of bed after a restless night’s sleep.Her new king-size bed feels so foreign and uncomfortable. Last night, she and Jane ended up so wasted that Shawn and Catherine brought them home. How could she not drown herself in the martini? Dave had just left with the bimbo and she was not happy about it.However, waking up to her new princess bedroom with its imported curtains and designer walls was still crazy too. Of course, she was used to this, but it had been the other side of her that she buried in Kenya. The famous model and elite Chelsea was gone. Flashes of last night’s awkward dinner and meeting Dave at the party skip through her brain, and she feels a sting in the pit of her stomach. Her tense meeting with Dave, the silence from Sebastian, and her sister’s pathetic attempt to get them all to become one happy family were all equally unpleasant, not to mention his appearance at Catherine and Shawn's party.Although, she has to admit tha
In just a few short minutes, she was back in the dining room looking down at a spread of hot buttermilk pancakes, bacon, ham and eggs, fruit, freshly brewed coffee, and a selection of freshly squeezed juices. Her eyes widened in awe. "Is this all for me?" she asked Marcel. "Yes, Miss Chelsea, and Mr. Brown left a note for you." He pointed at a white envelope placed on a small silver tray beside her plate. Her name has been written in cursive in the middle of it. "Is there anything else you require, Miss Chelsea?" "No, Marcel. That will be all. Thank you. And please, just call me Chelsea," she said with a warm smile. He nodded and left me for her breakfast. She sat down slowly and gazed again at the array of breakfast items in front of her, but soon her interest returned to the envelope. What could Dave have written in it? Bastard. She thought. The nerve. Minutes later, she found herself devouring a lot more breakfast than she anticipated. Not eating much last night has apparen
Dave brown grumbled, "Chelsea, I’m so glad you showed up. I wasn’t sure if you were still interested in the position," he mumbled, his voice firm but with a trace of wit. "Well, I’m still not either," she replied coolly, eager to hide all signs that she was still not over him. "Really? But you’re here anyway?" "Yes. I’ll see how the day goes," she stated, carving a fake smile. Dave responded with a sly grin, indicating that he finds our banter amusing. "Come with me. I’ll show you the rest of the building." He escorted her out of the office and back to the elevator. She took a quick breath in before entering. "Brown Inc., doesn't it just occupy this floor?" She asked although it is a multi-billion dollar company, stupid question, Chelsea. "Oh, no. I own the whole building," he grinned, a little too pompously. "The heart of the company occupies the other floors, and then there’s the lounge up on the penthouse level, and the cafeteria on the ground level." There was a brief sil
One week later.Dave became nothing but a pain in the ass.And it was mere luck that the man was gone for a meeting, so here she was, manning the phones, trying not to die of boredom, hunger, and second-hand entitlement from all the asshats who thought that ‘personal assistant’ was an archaic English word for ‘person put on Earth to cater to Dave's every whim and whom it was appropriate to scream at if she did not immediately divine his exact wishes through telepathy.’ Goodness, the man was a jerk. How did she even fall in love with this asshole anyway?She could see one of those female field asshats approaching, and it was with considerable relief that she saw one of the phones light up. She grabbed at it like a lifeline."Brown Inc., how can I help you?""Hey, Chelsea, it’s Catherine. Time to gossip?"Wow, she didn't call her on her phone, but here in the office. "Sure thing, ma’am, I’ll walk you through that right now. It should only take about an hour," she mumbled sweetly.Assha
Dear Diary,To say that I was surprised by my officemate's observations is an understatement. I ended up denying everything. What can I do? How do I tell them that the CEO is indeed my boss? Of course not.The next morning, I was awakened by the sound of my alarm clock. On the digital screen, the bright red number 6:00 blink.I sit up in bed and take in my surroundings. Outside, it is mostly dark, with only a few rays of sun filtering into my bedroom. Along with the gentle swishing of the trees, I hear the birds whistling and am reminded of Kenya. I close my eyes and immediately see snapshots of my kids. They’re bright, smiling faces playing under a clear blue sky. A loud knock on my door forces me out of my nostalgia."Miss Chelsea. Your breakfast is waiting for you in the dining hall. The driver is on standby to take you into the city," Marcel says warmly.Ah, yes. Today will be another day at the office.The realisation hits me like a ton of bricks and I slump down lazily under my