Spring Break Fling

Chapter 9

9

HANNAH

I t was the kind of day where everything clicked. The kind of day I’d been chasing for years. I looked good and I felt good. The week in Miami had been the renewal I needed.

I wanted to say it was the new outfit I was wearing. But it was more than that. I felt like I was glowing. The Miami sun had given me a little color. And there was this new confidence I was wearing. That could be attributed to the sex with Nikko. That night did change me. He made me feel beautiful.

He made me feel desired in a way that I hadn’t for a long time. It wasn’t just about the physical connection, though that was definitely electric. It was how he paid attention to what I needed to enjoy the experience.

When I walked into the office that morning, Cheryl from accounting immediately noticed. “Girl, you’ve got that post-vacation glow,” she teased, handing me a pile of mail she’d been collecting for me while I was away.

“Thank you.” I laughed, flipping through the envelopes and circulars. “Miami treated me well.”

I walked to my office, prepared for the day. I was wearing my new outfit because today was a big day. I had been working on this pitch for weeks. As soon as we got home, I had gone right back to work on it.

Now, it was time to present it.

My blouse was long-sleeved. That was intentional. I wasn’t worried about my tattoo insulting anyone but it wasn’t ready for the world just yet. The damn thing was still itchy. It was enough to drive me insane. Nikko’s initials— NM —felt like they were seared into my soul. I didn’t want anyone to see the tattoo and ask me what the initials meant. That would be an awkward story. I thought about claiming it was my grandma’s initials or a childhood pet, but that made zero sense.

Every time I thought about the damn tattoo, I wanted to book a flight back to Florida just to throttle him.

But for now, I had bigger fish to fry.

I went over the pitch for what was like the hundredth time. No detail was ignored. It was basically an audition. My company was hoping to land a new client based in New York. The account would be huge for us.

The company had a huge release coming out next year. The marketing strategy had to be a long game that paid off. I had come up with my own concept and I was going to pitch it to my manager and marketing board first to see if they thought it was good enough to pitch to the company.

I wanted this account. It would be a huge steppingstone in my career.

Before it was time to present the strategy, I made a quick trip to the restroom. I adjusted my hair and checked my makeup.

I couldn’t resist rolling up my sleeve and looking at the tattoo. It itched, but it wasn’t infected. If I was being fair, it was actually cool. But dammit, every time I looked at those stupid little letters, I thought about him.

I was sure that was his intention. But I didn’t like it. How would he have felt if I had branded his ass?

“He’d like it,” I muttered to myself.

Which was why he did it .

Asshole.

But there was a tiny part of me that liked it too, liked that he claimed me as his. I couldn’t explain it, but it was intoxicating. The way he looked at me, the way he touched me was all so… dominating. It scared and thrilled me at the same time.

I rolled my sleeve back down. It was time to separate professional Hannah from personal Hannah.

As I entered the room, all eyes were on me. Clearing my throat, I started my presentation with a confidence that felt as if it had been gifted to me on those Miami beaches. “Good morning, everyone.”

I had been practicing this pitch so often it was second nature, so I dove right in.

“…and with this strategy,” I said, finishing up my pitch, “we’re not just creating a campaign. We’re creating a legacy. Something that connects with their audience, builds loyalty, and makes this release the kind of cultural event that’s talked about for years. It’ll be huge. They will explode onto the map.”

I paused, scanning the room. The marketing board members looked thoughtful. My manager, Clarke Mitchell, leaned back in his chair, nodding slightly. It was a good sign. Or at least I hoped it was.

I felt like I couldn’t breathe. You could have easily heard a pin drop in the room. I wanted to believe I knocked them speechless because it was so damn good but they were giving me nothing.

Clarke clapped his hands together once. “Hannah, I have to say, I’m impressed.”

I beamed. “Thank you, Mr. Mitchell.”

“I think you’re the right person for this account,” he said.

My heart just about burst. My ears got hot. There was a sense of elation that was so overwhelming I nearly whooped with excitement.

“Really?” I asked.

“You’re not sure you can handle it?”

“No. Yes! Yes! I mean, thank you, sir. I promise you won’t regret this.”

“This is a big opportunity,” he continued. “The client is expecting a groundbreaking campaign. Are you prepared to make the sacrifices necessary to ensure this is a success?”

I nodded so fast I probably looked unhinged. “Absolutely. I’m ready for anything.”

Clarke smiled. “That’s what I like to hear. And I’m glad you’re flexible because there is one condition.”

“Anything,” I said, practically vibrating with excitement.

“The client will need you to fly out to Miami to present our campaign strategy,” he said. “They like to meet in person for these things. They’ll only be there for the next two weeks, and after that, assuming they’re on board, you’ll be back here to carry out the campaign.”

I froze. Miami? Of all the places in the world, why Miami?

Clarke’s brow furrowed. “Is that a problem?”

“No, no problem!” I said quickly, schooling my expression into something that hopefully didn’t scream Oh God, not Miami .

He smiled. “Good. They’re a high-profile client. Divorced, two teenage sons, and they’re staying in Miami for Spring Break. I think this could be a great opportunity for you to show them what you’re capable of. He’s all about getting to know the people who work with him. Pitch him like you pitched us and I’m sure we’ll land this account.”

I plastered on a confident smile. “I’m on it.”

“We’re going to need you to get down there right away,” he said.

I nodded, my thoughts a jumbled mess. “Um, okay, like tomorrow?”

“If you can swing it, yes,” he said.

I wasn’t going to panic. I could do this. My toiletry bag was still packed. I was running through a packing list in my head. I only had one plant—a cactus. It would be okay for two weeks. I would need to hold my mail and pay bills before I left.

“Hannah?”

I blinked and looked at my boss. I had gotten caught up in the million things I needed to get done .

“I’ll make the arrangements and head out as soon as possible,” I said with what I hoped was a confident smile.

Clarke shook my hand. “I admire your grit, Hannah. I think you’re going to do great things with this account.”

As soon as I stepped out of the conference room, I closed the door behind me and took a deep breath.

Miami . The word buzzed in my head like a warning siren.

The itch on my arm flared up again. I pulled up my sleeve and peeked at the tattoo as soon as I was in the privacy of my own office. It looked fine.

I rolled my sleeve back down with renewed determination. This wasn’t just about a career-defining opportunity anymore.

It was like fate was pushing me to exact my revenge. Karma was a bitch with a capital K. He thought it was funny to brand me? I was about to show him just how funny it was.

I sat down at my desk and started Googling flights. I found one leaving tomorrow morning.

“Perfect.”

I quickly paid for the flight, treating myself to business class. Then I grabbed my phone and pulled up the group chat.

I quickly tapped out the message. I could already imagine their expressions when they saw it. They were going to think I was joking.

Guess who’s heading back to Miami tomorrow? NM better watch his ass!

Just to make sure they knew I wasn’t joking, I took a picture of my flight confirmation and sent it.

The responses in the group chat were almost instantaneous. Emoji bombs exploded. Shocked faces, flames, and a few choice expletives.

“Is this for real, Hannah?!” Maddie asked.

I thumbed back a quick response. “One hundred percent. It’s business but…”

“You’re not going near HIM, are you?” Rachel chimed in next.

I paused, fingertips hovering over the screen. “Damn straight. I can kill two birds with one stone. The marketing deal of my life, and vengeance on the asshole who branded on me.”

The chat bubbled over with messages of concern and excitement mixed together.

“Girl, be careful,” came Maddie’s next text.

“I’ve got this.”

The thought of returning to Miami so soon was a little scary. I reminded myself it was business first. Yes, I was going to find a way to get back at him, starting with him giving me a free tattoo fix.

I had my plan all mapped out. First, I’d meet with the client, blow them away with my professionalism and brilliance, and secure their trust. Then, in my free time, I’d track Nikko down and make him regret ever branding me like livestock.

I left the office and went back to my apartment to pack for Miami. I pulled open the drawer that I rarely opened in my dresser. It was filled with the many things I had gotten from Victoria’s Secret sales. Some stuff I had never worn. I never felt like it was the right occasion.

But I found myself packing the sexy panties and bras in the suitcase—just in case. Yes, even though I knew it was a terrible idea, I wanted him. Maybe my revenge could include me giving him a case of blue balls.

But I had a feeling a man like him wouldn’t suffer for long. All he had to do was walk into any bar and point to a woman.

Blue balls cured.

But just in case.

The soft buzz of my phone distracted me from my thoughts. Another message from Rachel.

“Just remember why you’re going, Hannah. Don’t let anger cloud your judgment.”

She was right, of course. This was a critical step for my career, but it was hard to separate the professional from the personal. I really wanted to get back at Nikko in some way. I didn’t know how I was going to do that, but there had to be something I could do.

Even if it was just confronting him. That ought to scare him a little. Maybe I could picket outside the parlor. Let people know the tattoo artist enjoyed branding people.