Just My Luck

“This has got to be a nightmare,” I murmured under my breath as I entered the reception hall through the revolving doors.

More than a dozen of my work colleagues stood in a half-circle, smiling at my ex-boyfriend who happily paraded handing out invitations to his wedding. Everyone congratulated him, boosting his already overgrown ego. He was dressed up in a gray tailor-made suit way above his pay grade. His face was perfectly shaved, his ash-blond hair combed up, and even his nails were perfectly polished. Certainly, this change of façade was courtesy of his awfully rich fiancée. If I had loathed that man before, now my disgust had increased by a thousand percent.

Cursing under my breath, I slowly moved to the right side of the hall, trying to sneak out of the well-lit spot before that bastard noticed me. The last thing I wanted was for him to gloat—

“Josie!” he drawled my name as if he were announcing another round of a boxing match. Well, that wasn't far from the truth. We had been dancing around and exchanging blows for three months. Now he was going for a knockout.

I froze in place, feeling the burn of the crowd's eyes on me. Grinding my teeth, I turned around before stretching my lips into a thin line. “Dylan, what an unpleasant surprise.”

A dry chuckle escaped him as he prowled toward me, invitation in hand. “Oh, Josie. You can stop pretending.” He waved his hand dismissively, and my blood began to boil. “I know you want me back, but you just need to accept that you are no match for me.”

My hands fisted, and the urge to turn our fight into a real boxing match grew inside me with every second. “Want you back?! Are you kidding me?! Who would have wanted a cheating son of a—”

“Now don't get too excited, darling.” He all but shoved his flat palm in my face, causing me to stumble back. “I think that it's time to bury the hatchet." He lifted his other hand, presenting his wedding invitation. “Consider this a peace offering.”

Peace offering my ass! I knew why he wanted me at his high-end wedding. This would be a perfect opportunity for him to humiliate me. He wanted to parade with his newlywed, rich wife in front of me and prove I was beneath him. A long line of curses formed on my tongue when someone appeared behind me.

“She'll come,” Ashley, my clearly insane friend, called out, glaring at Dylan. She lined up with me, tossing her curly brown hair to one side and placing her hand on her hip. “She accepts your invitation.”

I turned toward her, staring at her wide-eyed, and hissed, “What the hell are you doing?”

She winked at me before shifting her gaze to my now wickedly smiling ex. “I will come too,” she announced. “Just make sure both invitations include plus one.”

Dylan's brows shot up. “Plus one? Am I supposed to believe that she”—he pointed at me—"is meeting someone?”

I shook my head and my mouth opened, but Ashley answered before I could utter a word. “She does.” Confidence satiated her tone, and I looked at her, stunned. “She and her boyfriend will gladly show up at your wedding.”

I remained speechless while Dylan snorted. “Well, this will be fun.” He handed Ashley our invitations. “See you at the wedding.” Satisfied, he spun around and sauntered toward the group of our work colleagues before my mind could process what had just happened.

Anger heated my blood. I grabbed the bag strap slumped over Ashley's shoulder, and dragged her into the narrow corridor by the stairs. “What the actual fuck, Ashley?!” I nearly shrieked.

She rolled her eyes and sighed. “Relax. I did it so you could finally show him you're not afraid to face him.”

I frowned. “And you decided to help me by giving HIM a chance to humiliate me?!”

She gave me a look. “Tell me, when was the last time he saw you wearing actual makeup and a dress? And no, this thin layer of color cream and lip balm doesn't count as makeup, nor can the weird, far-too-long sweatshirt you wore to work a few times be considered a dress.”

A half-strangled chuckle escaped me. “I used to wear dresses when I dated him,” I argued.

“And then you stopped.” A smug smirk tugged at my friend's lips. “He broke your heart, and you crawled into your shell. Let's face it, you are letting him win.”

My irritation flared. “This is not a game.”

Ashley snorted. “But it is.” Her lips curved into a wry smile as she scanned my hair tied up in a messy bun, my worn jacket, a faded yellow tee that remembered my high school days, a long gray skirt, and a pair of used-to-be-white sneakers. “It's a game you are willingly losing, and it is time for you to fight back.”

My mouth opened, but before words formed, my friend sassily spun around and started walking down the stairs. My frustration grew by the second. How was I supposed to fight back?! Dylan was getting married to the daughter of a freaking mogul! I hated to admit it, but he hit the jackpot while I spent my days drowning in helplessness and misery.

A quite decent job was the only thing that held my pieces together. I had always dreamed about working for a huge company like Blair Digital Entertainment, and I was even willing to ignore that I was working in the possibly worst department or that my desk was in the basement.

Of course, Dylan, whose brain was about half the size of mine, was far luckier than I was. He had miraculously managed to charm the recruiter and poof! He had become Mr. Manager, whereas I… I wasn't even sure my job had a name!

Sighing deeply, I focused on my steps as I descended the stairs. I should have learned by now that life was seldom fair. I had helped Dylan get through college. I had been willing to do anything for him. And then one day, he decided he no longer needed me. Learning that he had slept with another woman shattered my heart, and even after months, rage still heated my veins each time I recalled that moment…

I stopped at the bottom of the stairs and fisted my hands. “I cannot believe I used to be in love with this disgusting, cheating bastard.”

Ashley placed her hand on my shoulder. “Well… he is good-looking, though.”

My lips formed a thin line. “He is, and it sucks that a part of me still enjoys looking at his face… while the rest of me wants to turn it into a bloody mess.”

“How violent.” She laughed.

“I once thought I would never recover from the pain he caused me.” I gave her a faint, bitter smile. “But now, I just wish he stopped his childish games and moved on with his life so I could forget him.”

A wicked gleam flashed in Ashley's eyes. “Maybe that's the whole point. He doesn't want to move on, not entirely at least. Brianna Ricardson might be richer than you, but I think that this jerk misses you. And that is why you need to dress up, show up at his wedding, drink inappropriately expensive champagne, and show him what he foolishly gave up on.” She turned to face me, and a malicious grin spread across her face. “Then you can give him your back and walk away. This is how you win.”

I nodded, mirroring her expression. “I think I like the sound of it.”

She chuckled. “Finally! You shouldn't hide in the basement forever.”

My smile quickly faltered. “There's only one problem… who's going to be my mysterious boyfriend?”

“That's easy.” She waved her hand. “You'll go with my brother.”

I blinked. “Your brother is gay.”

She shrugged. “So? He can be mistaken for a straight guy... sometimes.”

My mouth opened and closed. Aaron, Ashley's twin, was the sweetest guy I had ever met, but no one in their right mind would have ever considered him straight. Yet, I didn't want to argue. I could only hope he would skip his usual makeup with fake lashes and glitter before coming to the wedding.

We restarted our steps, turning into a narrow corridor that led to our so-called office. We were working in the Data Revising Department, also called the Recycling Department. We were supposed to reanalyze the ongoing and rejected projects. Yep, our jobs were boring, but I would never complain about mine as long as it helped me pay my bills.

Drawing a deep breath, I opened the door and walked into the small room with five desks stashed in it. The rest of our team was already inside. I walked to my desk and turned on the computer. Only then did I acknowledge the odd silence. Our team leader, Mancy Lockwood, stood by her desk, her face pale as she offered me and Ashley a wry smile.

“What's going on?” I asked, confused.

“You are aware that we have a new CEO… right?” she started.

Truthfully, I rarely paid attention to the changes in management, but apparently, Ashley did since she nodded. “I heard that the new CEO is Mr. Maxwell Blair's son, and he's extremely handsome,” she explained, her tone almost dreamily.

A hysterical chuckle escaped Mancy's throat. “Well… yes. Mr. Killian Blair is, in fact… handsome.”

Blood drained from my face at the sound of that name, but it couldn't be THAT Killian Blair. My heart began to pound as I thought of the dreadful possibility. It couldn't be the bully who turned my high school days into a living hell… could it?

Mancy drew a ragged breath. “Anyway… the new CEO made a few changes and...” She paused, swallowing, before muttering grimly, “We're all fired.”