Page 5 of Unforgettable

“Arrhh…” I don’t know what to say. My brain seems to have turned into a jumbled mess.

“You did apply for an administrative management position?”

“Oh, arrhh…yes, I did,” I manage to say.

“Great. Can you come into the office for an interview tomorrow at ten AM?”

“Umm…well…” Why is it so hard to form a coherent sentence?

“If it’s not convenient for you, we can arrange another time,” Tamara continues, unaware of the jumbled emotions rampaging through me.

“Yes, I can be there.” The words fly from my mouth. What the hell? What I should have said was:I’m not interested in the job anymore. Thank you for calling.

“Excellent. I’ll text you the address. I look forward to meeting you.”

We say our goodbyes, and I disconnect the call and throw my phone on the sofa. “What have I done?”

Chapter Three

FINN

Lyinginbed,Icrack open my eyes. Bright, blinding light pierces through my brain, and I fling my arm over my face. Damn it. I must have forgotten to close the drapes last night. Rolling over onto my side, I’m met with a warm, soft, curvaceous body. The body shifts and shuffles closer to me.

I think back to the previous night. After landing in New York City from London, I headed straight to the nearest bar, had a few drinks, and brought a woman back to my hotel.Crap!They’re always gone before morning. I never let a woman stay the night. Lack of sleep and one too many scotches and I must’ve passed out. Now I have to get rid of her.

I look at the woman. Her long, dark hair fans out over the pillow, and like she feels me watching her, her eyes flutter open, revealing chocolate-colored eyes framed with long, full eyelashes. Looking a lot like— God! Why do I do this to myself? Why when I’m back in the city do I sleep with women who resemble Harper? It’s the reason I avoid coming home as much as possible. Whenever I step foot in the city, even after so many years, thoughts of her plague me. Living in London, I can pretend the time I spent with Harper never existed.

“Good morning.” The brunette—I can’t remember her name—smiles, caressing a hand across my bare chest and over my stomach.

I know what she wants, and it will not happen. Every time I do this, self-loathing at my weakness kicks in. “Morning.” I slide out of bed and pull on my jeans that are lying on the floor.

The brunette props herself up on her elbow, letting the sheet drop to her waist, exposing impressive-sized breasts. A lot bigger than—Fuck! Stop thinking about Harper.

“I had fun last night. I’d love to do it again,” she purrs.

Was it fun? I can’t remember much. I throw on a t-shirt, collect her clothes discarded around the room and place them on the bed. “Sorry, I’m not here long, and I’ll be busy with work.”

The woman’s eyes grow wide for a beat then narrow, no doubt realizing this was only a one-night stand. She huffs and rises from the bed, snatching at her clothes, then heads to the bathroom and slams the door behind her. Thank God she got the not-so-subtle hint.

A moment later, someone knocks on the door, and I answer it. Bianca, my assistant who flew from London with me, is standing at the threshold. Her gaze scans me from head to toe, her lips twisting to the side. Taking in my disheveled state, she says, “Are you not coming into the office this morning? Do I need to reschedule your appointments?”

I scrub a hand behind my neck. “Yeah, I’m coming in. Give me time to shower and change. I’ll meet you in the lobby in fifteen minutes.”

Just as I’m closing the door, the brunette pushes past me. Without saying a word, she storms down the hallway, and I watch her step into the elevator. Better to be pissed at me than upset because she was hoping for more.

Bianca also watches the woman. When she’s gone, Bianca turns back to me with accusation glaring from her eyes. “Now I know why you’re late.” How many more women will I piss off today? Bianca had a strict work schedule and hated delays.

“I’ll be down soon,” I assure her and close the door.

After shaving, dressing, and downing two Tylenol, I meet Bianca in the lobby. She has a car waiting, and we slide into the backseat. Pulling out a phone from a bag, she informs me about my schedule for the day. “You have a meeting with Juliette Monet at ten. Then at one you have lunch at La Grenouille with Mr. Chavez. At three you have a meeting with Arnold Jameson to discuss fabrics.”

“Are my brothers in the office today?” I ask as I prop an elbow on the doorframe and stare out the passenger side window, watching the busy streets and buildings fly by. My family are the only people I miss while living in London. Although not enough for me to move back permanently like they wish I would do.

Bianca taps on the screen of her phone for a few seconds. “Yes, they are. Would you like to arrange a meeting with them?”

“Yes, please.”

More tapping. “Okay, they’ll be waiting for you in the boardroom.” Bianca puts her phone in her bag and smooths out her skirt. “So… Who was the woman in your hotel room?”

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