Page 74 of Miss Matched

Zac

Iftherewasany semblance of a man in control, Kennedy planted a firecracker in my heart and lit the fuse, blowing me away. But as I scattered into fragments around her, I wasn’t lost or separated or broken. I was hers, landing like snow where it belongs in winter and melting in her warmth.

I’m still not positive how I dragged myself out of her bed. I could have stayed buried under her sheets and between her legs all day. Instead, I’m at the office, her coconut scent washed off my skin, the moments between us already fading into memory.

The place that used to be a sanctuary has turned into a purgatory I’ll never escape. The board might momentarily be off my back, happy with how my personal life is playing out in the media, but they don’t know the truth. And with the Waterfront Project receiving new funding, I need to leave it that way.

“How’s your dad?” Tiffany asks, rounding her desk to meet me with a stack of contracts as I exit the elevator. I swear she strapped me with a tracking device that goes off the moment I enter the building.

“Stubborn as ever.” I roll my eyes. “I need you to set up a nurse to start checking in on him.”

Tiffany tips her chin down and looks at me skeptically. “He’s going to love that.”

I wave her comment off. “I don’t care what he wants or doesn’t right now. His place was a mess, he’s sleeping on the couch, and the bullheaded man refuses to make this easy on me.”

“You asked him to move in with you again?” she guesses.

I nod and run the palm of my hand over my face, trying to bury my frustration.

If anyone in my life understands how pigheaded my father is, it’s Tiffany. As my assistant, she’s one of the few people in the office who knows the reality of my life outside these walls. Back when Dad was still feeling well, he’d pop into the office frequently. Sometimes to see me, but other times to take Tiffany and her girlfriend out to lunch—no doubt trying to weasel his way into finding out more of what was going on in my life. But at least he cares. Unlike Mom, who finally took a hint and stopped calling to ask about my most recent scandal as soon as her monthly deposit hit her checking account.

“You can’t push him; that man does what he wants,” Tiffany says. “Reminds me of someone else I know.” She gives me a pointed look.

I ignore her implication, and she hands me the stack of contracts she’s holding.

“You’ve got a meeting with the Waterfront Project investors next week; the progress updates are in the file. And they need you to sign off on adding six levels to the high rise.”

“Six levels? We agreed to the limit for a reason. How am I supposed to sell buyers on luxury condos without the view?”

Tiffany sighs, and her eyes dart to my office. “That brings me to the next thing. Samson’s in your office.”

Of course he is.

I close my eyes and try to remember why I thought it was a good idea to leave Kennedy’s bed. If it hadn’t been for a breakfast meeting with a client, I probably wouldn’t have.

“Also…he’s not alone,” Tiffany adds carefully.

Not alone? Why would that matter? Unless it’s the board and something else went sideways. Maybe I walked in here totally fucked without even realizing it.

Tiffany takes a step back, like she thinks I might explode at her next words. “Kennedy dropped by to bring you breakfast.”

“Wait, what?” I start seeing red.

The board I can handle, even if they’ve chosen today to put an end to my misery. But Samson behind my closed door with Kennedy?

I power down the hallway and slap the stack of contracts back on Tiffany’s desk before swinging my office door open. I’m ready to see Samson pawing at her with his usual vulturous stare, but, to my surprise, he sits on one side of my desk with eyebrows drawn and a pissed off expression on his face. Kennedy is against the windows, pinning him with a heated gaze. It isn’t until she spots me that it softens.

Samson stands and paces over to me with a smug grin.

“Firecracker you’ve got there,” he says. “Now I see why Seattle’s bachelor might be pretending to want to settle down.”

“Get the fuck out,” I say, not looking at him.

Samson chuckles and walks past me. “I’ve got a meeting to get to anyway. The updated budget for Waterfront Project is on your desk.” The door shuts behind him.

Kennedy was still in bed this morning when I left for my meeting, tangled in the sheets with her honey brown hair fanned across her pillow, cheeks rosy from lovemaking.

But now, framed against my office windows that look out over the city, I see the other side of her I’m falling for—white blouse and pinstriped pencil skirt with navy heels that show off her incredible legs—a woman prepared to take on the world.

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