Page 17 of Her Filthy Mistake

The ease of the conversation lulls me into a sense of familiarity I haven’t experienced with him in years. It’s nice. I miss this. This lack of animosity.

“Do you mind if I grab some OJ?” He motions to the jug and glasses behind me.

“Of course.” A light flush rises up my neck. “I wasn’t thinking.” I snatch up a glass and deposit it on the counter.

As I grasp the jug, he reaches around me and grabs it, his tattoo covered hand landing on mine. “Oh….” I inhale, and his scent overpowers me. Or maybe it’s the faint trace of stubble on his cheeks. Or the intensity of his eyes boring into me. Or the heat from his palm covering my hand.

“I’m sorry.” He steps back as I drop the jug back onto the counter and shift out of his way.

“No, it’s my fault. Go ahead.” I tip my head toward the orange juice.

As he pours his drink, the realization that this week will be the longest week of my life sinks in. How am I going to survive when everything feels like it’s a landmine about to explode?

He lifts his glass toward his lips. “So, how do you like working for your father?”

I cross my arms over my chest to disguise the fact that my nipples are as happy to see him as my hand was to feel him. “Working for my father is great.” I shrug as if there’s no other possible answer. And in some ways, there isn’t. I got the music industry bug when I was a child, and it never let go. “I started in the mailroom the summer after graduating high school and worked my way up from there. Now, I’m working under Felix Boyles. He’s a great guy.”

He sips his drink and eyes me over the top of the glass. “Is he?”

“Yes, he’s fantastic. He’s willing to explain the entire talent evaluation and acquisition process from the beginning to the end. I appreciate his attention to detail. He doesn’t treat me like a novice who can’t understand all the ins and outs, and he doesn’t treat me like a spoiled, entitled child who only got the job because my dad is the boss.” I cringe at the word ‘child’ since that was the one he used to describe me, but he continues without missing a beat.

“That’s nice.” His jaw flexes as he drops the glass down with a clunk and yanks open the refrigerator. “Married?”

“Is he married?”

“Yes?”

“No, he’s not married.” I frown. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Nothing.” He retrieves a platter of fruit, hard-boiled eggs, and bacon from the refrigerator and piles some onto two different plates. He glances over his shoulder. “Do you want some breakfast, or did you already eat?”

“No, I haven’t eaten. Thank you. I didn’t realize how hungry I’d gotten.” My mouth waters as he prepares my favorite foods. I’m starving. He pops the plate of bacon into the microwave and sets the timer.

You should be hungry. All you did last night was stir your food around on your plate and drink too much, which led to a fuzzy head, dry mouth, and the promise to cut back on over-indulgence. If Jace can do it, so can I. I can face my problems head on. Sober.

The microwave beeps and he collects the steaming contents from it, adding it to the already prepared plates.

“Here.” He hands me a plate, and when his fingers brush mine, I snatch my arm back. Or ignore my problems and run away. I’m better at that.

“Thank you. I’ll be in my room. We’re supposed to meet Mom and Landon in an hour.”

With that, I ran off like a scared cat and hid in my room for an hour and five minutes so I could avoid walking with him to the main resort area.

Chapter Nine

Jace

The level of jealousy I experienced hearing her gush about her unmarried boss, who’s in charge of discovering musical talent to catapult mere mortals to stardom, is astronomical. It’s only transcended by the knowledge that she spends her time chatting it up with music industry types and is likely involved in making the musicians as comfortable as possible at local venues.

I know the music industry, and she’s the owner’s daughter. What star-wannabe isn’t going to kiss her ass to get a chance at top billing? Yeah, all of them. My jaw tightens. Okay, not all of them. There will be some like me who fall for her just because she’s beautiful, intelligent, and caring. But enough of them will do anything to bed the boss’s daughter to get ahead.

I slam the door with more force than necessary and stomp down the sidewalk to the main resort where the conference room is located. I’m not in the mood to hang out with people and play nice. Even when I’m in a good mood, I’d rather spend most of my time alone.

But my brother has always been there for me. He sacrificed years of his life raising me, many more as my emotional support, and I didn’t appreciate it. Not until the last couple of years at least. He deserves my respect which means I’ll be on my best behavior this week. No matter what.

The warm Caribbean sun beams down on me, soaking into my dark T-shirt. And why am I bitching anyway? This place is phenomenal. There isn’t a spec of trash anywhere. The staff is top-notch, and the bungalows and restaurants are 5-star quality.

I open the large brass-handled door to the building that houses the conference rooms, spa, gym, nightclub, movie theater, and the non-bungalow suites.

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