Page 8 of The Accidental Wife

“Don’t go. You’re rich now.” Aimee sings, jumping on my bed and dancing.

“Aimee, get the hell off my bed! I just made it up.” I grab her leg, pull it, and she tumbles over and rolls off the bed.

Aimee pouts, “Ouch. I think you broke my arse.” She grumbles, rubbing her behind gingerly.

“I have to go. I’m already running late. Fix my damn bed.” I say, throwing my pillow at her head and walking out of the bedroom.

“Yes, Mrs Hoult,” Aimee calls out and giggles when I flip her off as I walk to the front door. I can’t even think about the whole Tristan Cole fiasco right now. My head is a scrambled mess, and I’m pretty sure I'm still a little drunk. I need to focus on my career if I ever want to make it as an architect. I can barely remember how to spell my name at the moment. I am never drinking again.

* * *

I makeit to work with five minutes to spare. Please don’t ask me how fast I was driving to make it on time because I expect a fair few speeding tickets in the post.

“Shayla.” I spin when I hear my name and see the girl that greeted me the last time I came in. Heather, I think her name was.

“I’m Heather. If you’re ready, let me show you around first, and then we can go through Mr Hoult’s schedule for the day.”

“Yes, of course. Sounds good.” I follow her through the glass doors, and we walk through an open plan office with several fancy cubicles, high-tech computers with two monitors that are for drawing your designs.

“So, this is your desk, and you already know where his office is.” I nod, smiling, my eyes taking in the office, as she continues to go on and on about his schedule. “He’s very peculiar and likes things a certain way. For example, he has his coffee black, with skimmed milk on the side, on his desk at seven-forty-five. He has a sesame bagel with smoked salmon and fat-free cream cheese at eight o’clock every morning, religiously.”

“Got it.”

“Excellent. A little helpful advice. He works a lot, like around the clock. So, he’s often quite grumpy because he’s tired. If you see him loosening his tie and rub his temples, it means he’s angry; steer clear unless he calls for you. If he does— do not speak. I found nodding helps. Do not enter his office without knocking; wait for him to gesture you in. Understand?”

I look over at the empty office and gulp. Oh boy, this man sounds like a real head-case. It sure is going to be a hoot working for him. I follow Heather back to the open office. “Well, I think you’ve pretty much got the gist of the job. I’m sure you two will get along great. He should be out of his meeting shortly, and we can head over and introduce you to him.” Heather explains as we walk over to the kitchen area where the coffee machines and fridges are stocked up with drinks and shelves filled with snacks. At least they look after their employees.

I was enjoying my caramel latte and people watching when Heather came bouncing along. “He is out of his meeting. Let’s go and get you acquainted.” I nod and follow her toward the CEO’s office. I was real baffled every time she said the words ‘introduce you’ like I hadn’t met him at the interview. Maybe she forgot.

We walk into the office I had my interview with the silver fox. The painting on the wall caught my eye, and I was admiring it when I just about noticed Heather say my name. “Mr Hoult, this your new executive assistant, Shayla.” I spin and look at him. Our eyes meet first. I let my gaze wander the length of him, and my heart slowly sinks to the pit of my stomach.

“You.”

“You?” I shake my head and look over at Heather and back at the six-foot-something man standing in front of me. “No. No, my boss was an older gentleman…you’re not...old.”

Cole blinks and nods slowly. “You must have met my Father—Tony Hoult. He was interviewing for me while I was out of town on business.”

I stare at Cole and curse the fate that keeps screwing with me. “So, you’re my boss? I’m going to be working for you?”

Cole nods and fiddles with his cufflinks, his brows fused tightly. “It sure looks that way, Miss Hart.”

“You’ve already met each other?”

“Heather, leave us.” He commands, his eyes on mine, and Heather scampers out of the office, leaving us alone.

What the hell is going on?

“This is a joke, right? Because this can’t be happening,” I mutter, pacing back and forth. “It can’t be.”

Cole rubs the back of his neck, watching me pace frantically, mumbling incoherently to myself like a lunatic. “Shayla, why don’t we sit?” He offers, and I shake my head.

“No. I can’t sit.” I reply, brushing my fingers through my hair in frustration. “I feel as though I’m trapped in a nightmare I can’t seem to wake up from.” I stop pacing and look at him. “What the hell is this? Are you like…stalking me?”

Cole laughs—and I don’t just mean a chuckle— I mean a full-on belly laugh. “Stalking you?” He says in between breaths as I stand and watch him unimpressed. “I should be asking you that question, sweetheart. You’re the one that keeps showing up everywhere. It can’t be a coincidence.”

I scowl at him and slap the folder in my hand on his desk somewhat hard. “Excuse me? Are you insinuating that I’m some psychotic fan girl or something?” I ask, taking a step toward him, and he watches me closely. “I think you will find that it was you who approached me at the club,” I say, poking his chest, and he smirks and arches a brow. “And it was also your idea to leave the club together,” I add, poking him again, and his smile grows into a grin. “It was also you that kissed me, so please, explain how I come off as the stalker here?” I finish, placing my hands at my hips and stare up at him expectantly.

Cole licks his lips and shrugs, “I was just kidding, but it’s nice to see you have a feisty side, sweetheart. I adore that in a wife.” I sigh and roll my eyes. I’m going to kill this boy.

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