Hearts are soooo not Ashley.
"I'm so sorry."
She takes a deep breath and lets it out.
"Why would he go with a heart?" Jonathan is not one of the most astute guys, but Ashley has laid hints on engagement rings for the last two years. You'd figure he would have picked up something. Kept one of the magazine advertisements she'd cut out and strategically left around the apartment. I'd never found a heard-shaped diamond taped to the fridge. Emerald or princess were her preferred choices. I agree whole heartedly.
"I don't know," Ashley says, shaking her head. "The only thing I can think of is how I said I'd never have a heart engagement ring."
I nod with too much enthusiasm. It was a big long discussion. Most of it happened while sitting in the very room we were in now.
"I think he heard hearts and engagement ring and ran with it."
"Well, is it big?" Does it being a big heart make it better or worse?
Her head bounces back and forth between a nod and a shake. "It's okay."
"The most important thing, Ashley, is that you're getting married. And I better be maid of honor. I will cut your sister if she gets the coveted role over me." I laugh and she follows along, lifting the tension in the room.
"Fine, you can be my maid of honor but only if you take secret shots of your new boss every day and text them to me. Bonus points if he's shirtless."
"I haven't even decided if I'm taking the job." And why would I ever see Vincent Valiant shirtless?
She laughs and I can't help but think she's laughing at me. "Come on, Kens, we both know you'll take the job."
Ugh, but she's right. Being the personal assistant to Vincent Valiant is not my dream job, but if I can make it for a few weeks as his assistant and then tumble my way to the marketing department, it would change my whole career trajectory.
Everything I've dreamed is coming true. High-paying job, which will one day get me to a warm state. A little condo to myself in the big city. Maybe a dog. The possibilities are endless.
"I'll just make copies and get his coffee." How hard could it be?
She tips the last of the wine bottle in her half-empty glass before filling it to the top again. "And taking half-naked pictures."
...
"WHY DID you make Jonathan buy us more wine?" I ask when Ashley peeks her head in my room.
The light hurts my eyes and the sound of the shower water hitting the tile is like hearing a Fourth of July parade with a band. All drums.
If I was smart, I would have laid out clothes for my first day at Valiant Industries last night. Then getting dressed this morning would be a cinch. But nooooo, I sat down in the living room and finished two-and-a-half bottles of wine, celebrating my new job and mourning Ashley's delayed engagement.
"Here," Ashley says, walking into my room. She doesn't look like she's noticed the effects of last night. Peachy as ever. Maybe I'm aging faster than she is. That would be my luck.
"You will be to die for in this. There will be serious elevator action."
I roll my eyes and take a deep breath before turning to face her. Yelling would be much too loud. "Ashley, nothing is going to happen in an elevator except riding up and down together."
She smirks and I realize half a second before she responds that I set myself up for this. "Yeah, you'll be riding him up and down, all night."
Ugh. Never put Ashley in a position to make a pun because she can't pass up the opportunity.
"Did you take those aspirin I gave you?"
I nod, my throat too dry to speak.
"They'll kick in soon and you'll be fine. You're twenty-four. You're not so old you can't handle a bottle of wine."
She shoves an outfit still hanging on two hangers in my direction. "What is this?"
It's a cute black pencil skirt which would fall at about my knees and a thin pink blouse. It says professional yet feminine. The graduate school forced me to dress up for most of my business classes, but money was tight, so I've wore the same three suits for the last two years. Today requires something extra snazzy.
"You don't think it's too hot?" I ask. The top button isn't very high. If I had boobs, there'd be cleavage.
Ashley tilts her head implying I'm ridiculous. "Think of the elevators." She jiggles the hangers at me two more times before I reluctantly grab them. "Just try it on, please."
"Fine." Trying them on wouldn't do me any harm.
Except when I step into the skirt and pull it over my hips, I'm reminded I'm at least a good three inches taller than Ashley. The skirt, which hits her at knee length, hits me much higher. The pink blouse is gorgeous as long as I don't get cold throughout the day. Even with a padded bra, I worry this thin material will show more than I want.
"See you look hot," she says as I walk out of the closet.
I nod. Her confidence is seeping in and I do need a power outfit for my first day.
The alarm of my phone dings and I run back into the closet to get a pair of shoes—a tall pair to make my legs look even longer. I might question the decision later, but for now I'm all about being a badass woman and kicking butt. I need power shoes to finish out the look.
It's eight o'clock, and with the traffic, it will take me almost thirty minutes to get to the office. Plus I have to find parking so it puts me only thirty minutes early. I will be late to be early and only if I leave right this second.
I grab a black purse and fling it over my shoulder, holding the brown briefcase at my side. It's empty except for a snickers bar and a bottle of Mountain Dew, which I plan to consider my lunch.
"Good luck," Ashley says, patting me on the back as she watches me leave out the front door. "Make me proud."
I roll my eyes and close the door behind me. Each townhome in our complex has its own private entrance, and I'm walking down the narrow sidewalk almost to my vehicle when I notice the big black town car blocking me into my parking space. A man dressed as ridiculously as a chauffeur from the movies jumps out of the front seat of the vehicle.
"Ms. Marshal. Good morning," he says, opening the back door.
"Yes?"
"I'm here to take you to work," he says, eyeing the open door, but I don't make a move to get in the confined space. I've watched enough murder shows to distrust this situation.
"Umm." I'm not a total moron. No way am I getting in the back of a stranger's car.
"I'm Mr. Valiant's personal driver and he said I'd need to make sure you arrived on time today."
His appearance looks acceptable for someone who would work at Valiant Industries. Stuffy. I shuffle toward the town car, not wanting to put my shoes in a mud puddle, and get into the backseat.
"Okay." I either set myself up for a kidnapping or this job will be unlike anything I expected.