Chapter Four
BEC
The light filtered into the room, partially blinding my tired and very hungover eyes. Based on the pounding in my skull, I must have drunk more than I had realized. Slowly, I peeled my eyes open and tried to remember what exactly had happened last night that ended with me back in my bed.
The memories came rushing back as I fully woke. Memories of dancing with Alexandra, the lights shining around us, Rome storming in with that glare and the hoodie I had never seen him in before, him rushing me past the paparazzi, and then nothing. I must have fallen asleep on the drive home.
I somehow ended up in my own bed, but was still in my black dress from last night.
A sigh passed my lips as I burrowed deeper into my blankets, hoping for a bit more time to sleep away the headache, but my stupid alarm decided to start blaring through the room. I groaned as I slapped at my nightstand, trying to shut the annoying thing up.
“Goddamn it,” I mumbled as I sat up and scrubbed my hands down my face.
I had no memory of coming up to my apartment and getting into my bed, but I must have been of some sound mind based on my room.
My shoes were placed on the floor next to my closet, my coat was in the dry cleaning pile, and even the small handbag I had taken was resting on my nightstand with the items nicely organized next to it.
Thank God I didn’t lose it–it was a limited-edition, vintage Hermes.
I stumbled out of my bed and towards the en-suite bathroom. The cool floors against my feet were oddly calming, but the moment I took a look at my face, I wished I had just slept the day away. There were remnants of mascara under my eyes, further accentuating my dark circles.
My dark brown hair was an entirely different story. It was braided down my back and neatly brushed.
“What the fuck?” I mumbled to myself as I untied the braid, stripped myself of my dress, and jumped into the shower, hoping to scrub the hangover away. I didn’t even know I could braid hair; I never had in the past.
Growing up with access to money as I had meant my life had been filled with people doing everything for me.
I had never been grocery shopping–as my assistant ordered and organized the food in my cabinets and fridge.
I didn’t even know what to do with the food, always having a personal chef to prepare my meals.
I didn’t even know how to do my own laundry.
It sometimes felt pathetic how little I knew of the real world.
I was one of the most privileged people in the world, but I could admit that at times it felt suffocating. That’s why my sporadic nights out with Alexandra were vital.
I hated to admit it, even to myself, but Rome was right to be angry with me last night. I did leave without him, or any security for that matter, which was an idiotic mistake. A mistake I couldn’t afford to make again.
As the hot water washed over my body, I shook off my self-pitying thoughts and focused on how I should apologize to Rome for my reckless actions last night.
I didn’t want to apologize. There was a chance he would hold it over my head though—I had a feeling he was itching for the moment he would be right when it came to one of our disagreements.
I wasn’t positive why I was always arguing with him in the first place. There was just something about him that drove me absolutely wild, like he knew exactly how to push all of my buttons.
It was infuriating. He was infuriating.
I took a deep breath, unable to focus too heavily on how I felt about Rome.
I didn’t have the time or energy today. I needed to get to the office before my dad or the rest of the board.
They were already nitpicky about my performance, so I refused to give them any additional fuel to the fire.
Luckily, I knew my routine like the back of my hand and was ready within an hour.
When I made my way out of my room, Rome was ready and waiting in the living room, a cup of coffee in his hand ready for me. His usual smirk made its appearance as he looked me up and down. “You look positively excited for the day.”
I flipped him off and snatched the coffee out of his hand. The warm, caramel latte he always got for me helped my pounding head just a bit.
“Where do you get these anyway?” I asked as I stepped into my shoes, balancing on one foot, and my coffee precariously perched in my spare hand. “There aren’t any good shops near me or the office. Honestly, this coffee is one of the main reasons you’re still employed.”
Rome steadied me with a hand on my elbow. “I make it, or one of my sisters does. Whoever is ready first in the morning makes coffee for everyone in the house.”
“Well, tell your sisters thank you for me,” I mumbled.
He smirked, which was automatically annoying. “What about me? I make it most of the time.”
“It would just go to your head,” I explained as I stood in front of Rome. Even in my stilettos, he was a head taller than me… which was rude. “Your ego is big enough as is. No need for me to stroke it.”
“You could stroke something else,” he joked with a wink.
I groaned and turned away from him, shrugging on my coat with his assistance.
Rome had a bad habit of making inappropriate jokes. They were decreasing with time, but I couldn’t reward his behavior with a reaction. I also couldn't let him see the small smile that his jokes often brought to my face.
“You know…” he started, as he glanced around my living room with a look in his eyes I couldn’t place. “You should really add, well… color to this place. You need color in your space, in your life.”
I tried my best not to glare at him, but it was impossible. “Why do you suddenly care about my interior decor?”
Was the majority of my apartment in various shades of black and wood tones? Yes. It was easier than having to decide on complementary colors.
“I don’t. It’s just that, after seeing your room last night, I realized nearly everything you own is black. The only colors in this whole place are your eyes, and that red lipstick you insist on wearing. You need some extra color in your life. Find your color, you know?” he explained.
I just stared at him, trying to decide if I was still drunk and hallucinating this conversation. “Wait, why were you in my room?”
Rome stared at me, probably trying to decide if I was serious.
“Are you serious?”
Look at that, I was right.
I nodded.
“Bec, you were black-out drunk. Did you really think you ended up tucked into your bed all on your own?” He asked incredulously.
I shrugged, “I am rather exceptional.”
He huffed a laugh and handed me my work purse, which I hadn’t seen him holding.
“I hate to break it to you, but I not only carried you up here, and peeled off your shoes while you sang an incredible rendition of ‘Girls Just Wanna Have Fun’. But, I also brushed out your hair after you got what I assumed—based on the smell—was a margarita in it. Any more questions?”
I stared at him as I tried to process everything he said. “You’re the one who braided my hair? How do you know how to do that?”
“I have five sisters, and growing up, my mom and step-dad would need help getting them all ready for school. I learned quickly,” he explained. He then checked his watch and said, “We need to get going if you wanna be to the office on time. I have more coffee waiting for you in the car.”
“You are somehow my favorite person right now,” I mumbled as I continued to sip at the delicious brew.
Rome chuckled, “On a scale of 1-10, how hungover are you right now?”
We made our way into the elevator and started our familiar journey down, the floors ticking by. “Solid eight. Scale of 1-10, how mad at me are you right now?”
He looked me up and down, his dark gaze assessing. “I’ll be mad at you when the hangover is gone, deal?”
I sighed in relief that I didn’t have to deal with a lecture just yet. “Deal.”
Luckily for my pounding head, the conversation stopped as we left the building and hopped into the town car. Even my driver, whose name I still didn’t know, somehow knew to stay quiet.
I chugged my coffee in the short car ride to the office, and fashioned my sunglasses on my face in the hopes of hiding my slightly bloodshot eyes. I couldn’t be going into work looking as hungover as I felt.
Walking into Bly Enterprises felt like coming home.
From the moment I could talk, I wanted to take over the business. Throughout college and law school, I knew I could successfully run the company. I served as CFO for a time before finally being promoted to acting CEO.
I was self-aware enough to know that I only held this position because of nepotism, but I also knew I could grow this company to new heights.
“Your messages, Ms. Bly,” Andi greeted as she handed me a stack of papers right as the elevator door opened up to the executive office floor.
“Give me the rundown,” I instructed as she followed me towards my office.
Andi had been working with me since I started law school. She had just dropped out of veterinary school after her family business had failed. She had no path forward and no plans, but she was brilliant.
When looking at Andi, everyone underestimated her.
She was always dressed in a way that resembled a stereotypical grandmother and had a timid voice, but she could have been a spy with the CIA given her ability to obtain information for me.
She was sneakier than anyone gave her credit for. She had become my secret weapon.
“Beckett Industries released their yearly financials, and it’s nothing we didn’t expect.
They’re doing well, but still nothing to worry about.
The board needs to meet with you about the most recent acquisition in Italy…
and we may have a bit of a PR crisis,” she explained as she did her best to keep up with my long strides.
“A PR crisis?”