I’ve finally done something to be proud of, something that I’ve been working toward since the day I’d fallen in love. I’ve given him exactly what he needs to know that I will always be his.
A family.
“He’s so perfect,” he breathes, meeting my eyes unashamedly as tears fill his own.
“Yeah. He really is,” I say, though I’m not looking at the baby now, but at my perfect, adoring husband. “Exactly what I’ve always dreamed.”
“I love you, dove.”
And I know he does. Our life isn’t sunshine and perfection, not by a long shot. Vincent is super controlling about anything he considers harmful to me or in any way upsetting, and doesn’t hesitate to either order me around or lie straight to my face to get his way.
He’ll never change, something that used to bug me but doesn’t anymore, because who am I kidding? I don’t want him to change. He challenges me at every turn and is always there for me, no matter how much my brattishness pisses him off.
If he can love me for my neurotic, over-the-top behavior, I can certainly return the favor by loving him just as he is.
That’s all there is, and know what?
It’s perfect.
# #
TROUBLE
Chapter One
“I need the Gillespie reports by this afternoon, and don’t forget to call Margery and reschedule lunch.”
I take down the monumental list of tasks that I have to get through and watch as my boss, Jordan Farns, fiddles with the stack of messages on his desk.
I hate my job most days, and not because it’s not a great job or because I can’t do it with ease. No, my boss, since I’ve been promoted to the ninth floor, is a total asshole who wouldn’t know how to read a report if it bit him in the ass.
So, in reality, I am not only a PA but an executive, too. I just don’t have the title or the money to prove it.
“And don’t forget to go pick up my dry cleaning, Hannah,” Jordan barks as I open the door to go back to my little office.
I want to tell him to fetch his own goddamned dry cleaning like a civilized human being, but I hold my tongue and nod, closing the door with a soft click instead of the bang I wish for.
Lucy, Mr Owens’ PA, is sitting on a corner of my desk as I enter my office, and I grin at her as she waves the middle finger at Jordan’s door.
“That idiot still getting you to do his job?”
“What’s new? And I am now responsible for organizing the Gillespie account on top of everything else, too.”
I don’t really mind doing it. I love hands-on learning and the opportunity to make my chops on such an important account. I just don’t know how I’ll manage it while running Jordan’s life as well.
“God, I am suddenly really grateful I got Mr Owens and not Farns.”
I’ll bet.
“So what brings you all the way up here? May still giving you grief about the office supplies?”
“No, thank God. Actually, I came up here to dish about the new client, Lucas Ships. You should see this guy, Han! He is fine with a capital F,” she gushes, and I roll my eyes at her.
Lucy can’t resist a pretty face and the opportunity to flirt. Thank God the woman is in a long-term, committed relationship, or I’d be hearing about office romances.
“I don’t care if the man is hot or not. Anyway, I’ll probably never meet him. That account is being handled by Jack and his team, isn’t it?”
I wish I’d pulled Jack as a boss. The man is a machine, but he’s fair, and I bet he does his own work instead of leaving his assistant to do it while he plays golf twice a week.
“Nope. Jack got the Freefall account. Word from the top is the account is coming to Farns.”
Shit. That means I’ll have two major accounts on my hands, and I’m barely coping with my workload as it is.
Just keep things organized. You can do it.
“Great.”
“So lunch?”
“Sorry, Luce. Rain check. I’m so busy today I don’t know if I’ll have the time.”
I hate missing lunch because I am pedantic about routine and keeping things scheduled to the minute, including my own life, but it’s not like I can’t afford to lose a pound or two.
“I’ll bring you back a chicken wrap. Don’t work too hard, Han, you need to unwind a little,” she says, jumping to the floor and leaving with a wave.
By twelve thirty I’ve made inroads into my inbox and I have time for a quick coffee. When I get back to my desk I find a scowling hunk of a man restlessly tapping his foot as he perches on the edge of my desk.
“Uh, can I help you?”
As I wait for his reply I allow my eyes to take a wandering look from the top of his honey blonde head all the way to the tips of his designer loafers. Goodness, now this is what I call a man.