Chance on Love
Authors: Vristen Pierce
Tags: #workplace romance, #enemies to lovers, #millionaire, #Valentine, #erotic, #erotic romance, #wealthy, #office romance, #Valentine's Day
Chance on Love
by Vristen Pierce
Published by Enrapture Press, 2014.
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
CHANCE ON LOVE
First edition. January 14, 2014.
Copyright © 2014 Vristen Pierce.
Written by Vristen Pierce.
Table of Contents
To Elizabeth Boyce and Codi Gary...
You're two of the most kickass women ever. Thanks for being my beta buddies, and letting me warp your minds with my special brand of crazy.
Chapter 1
Being shoved, blindfolded, out of a nice, warm room, into an icy blast of wind kind of sucked. Stumbling down a long, bumpy road, she knew there were obstacles in the way, but she couldn’t really avoid them—because she couldn’t see. The road would eventually end sometime, somewhere, somehow.
Details? Who the hell knew? She couldn’t
see
what was ahead. Oh, and those obstacles? They were huge, gaping potholes. Only, they were full of shit. Not figurative stuff—actual excrement. The only true relief would come when the road ended, and she didn’t have to walk anymore.
This was, basically, Stephanie Love’s view of life.
And today, she’d had the pleasure of falling into yet another pothole.
She wanted nothing more than to soak in a relaxing, hot bath after having the day from hell. Work could be stressful on the best of days, but when a huge corporation was taking over the station, the word “stress” didn’t
even
begin to cover it.
As Assistant News Director at KMLP Channel 6, she’d been on the fast track to having a shot at the News Director title and now all that might be down the drain. Her fate rested solely in the hands of people she’d never met—folks who didn’t give two craps about her dreams and ambitions.
Yeah, life had taken a turn for the worse; in other words, she was right where she’d always been.
She climbed the stairs to her boyfriend’s luxury condominium as the bitter January wind whipped across her face, stinging her eyes. The only bright spot to this miserable day would be spending time with Clay. After only seven months of dating, she could already see that the man had potential. The idea of marriage was abhorrent to her, but she was open to the possibility of them maybe—perhaps—one day living together.
He wasn’t like the losers she’d been with in the past. And at thirty-three, she’d already had way more than her fair share.
She hated Valentine’s Day with a passion, but this year would set a precedent. She not only had someone—she had a great someone. All those bastards who said it would never happen could just suck on that.
Stephanie unlocked the door to the condo and entered. “Clay?” God, she hoped he was there. A night of take-out alone at her place didn’t seem particularly appealing. She checked the kitchen and dining room before heading upstairs. The bedroom door was ajar so she pushed it the rest of the way open. “Clay, are you in—”
Oh, the fucker’s in all right.
He was in
side
a giggling, bosomy brunette.
Jumping at the sound of Stephanie’s voice, he sprang away from his playmate. The nameless woman promptly stopped the giggling, and covered her bare breasts with her hands as he pulled the sheet over their lower halves. He looked at Stephanie with wide, fearful eyes.
“Steph, baby, I can explain.”
Struggling to keep her breathing even, she stared at the traitorous louse. He could explain? Too bad the only thing on Stephanie’s mind was how
she
could explain leaving behind a corpse with its no-longer-giggling former lover.
What’s her name would undoubtedly point the finger of justice straight at Stephanie. She’d probably love to see her go down for what should really be justifiable homicide—that bitch.
“Your name?” Stephanie asked, oddly calm, with her eyes still fixed on Clay’s pathetic face.
“Huh?” the brunette asked.
Stephanie’s gaze shifted to the naked woman. “Your
name
,” she repeated.
The brunette cleared her throat. “Um...” She glanced at Clay, as if for direction, before looking at Stephanie again. “Donna?”
Stephanie arched an eyebrow. “You asking or telling?”
The woman squared her shoulders. “I’m Donna.”
“Okay,
Donna
, I’m about to be nicer than I usually am by giving you an amazing opportunity.”
Donna drew her perfectly groomed eyebrows together. “An opportunity to what?”
“To get the hell out of here.” Walking to the foot of the bed, Stephanie placed her palms on it as she leaned in. “Because the shit’s about to hit the fan.”
Clay eased off the bed and groped around on the floor for their clothes. “Uh, yeah, you might want to go,” he said, throwing a wrinkled dress Donna’s way. He slipped his boxers on before giving Stephanie an earnest look. “Please, hear me out.”
She ignored him. “Time’s ticking, Donna. What’s it gonna be?”
The woman made the wise choice to wrap herself in the sheet and slide off the bed. Clay tossed her underwear at her. She grabbed the skimpy lingerie, and her dress, before scurrying off to the master bathroom.
Stephanie crossed her arms and pinned Clay with a death glare. “You slimy son of a bitch.” She’d never been accused of being a delicate flower, even on one of her kinder, gentler days. Surly was about as good as it got with her, really. And shit like this was the reason why.
People were, in general, disgusting. As soon as you lowered your guard, they were ready, and more than willing, to pounce. She’d had her share of being screwed over, of being hurt. This was the end of the road.
Clay took a hesitant step toward her. “Steph, look, I never planned this. You have to believe me.”
She nodded. “Well, as long as it was a spontaneous boning rather than a planned one, that sheds a whole new light.”
“Listen to me,” he pleaded. “She came over to help me with a project—”
Stephanie scoffed.
“A
work
project,” he continued, “and we had a little wine. Things got out of control, I admit that.” He took another step.
“You really should think about how close you want to get to me right now.”
He froze before putting his hands up. “We can get past this. It was a mistake, a one-time thing. It will never happen again, I swear!”
The bathroom door opened and Donna peeked out.
Stephanie glanced at her watch. “You still got time.”
She bolted from the room.
“Don’t bother locking up,” Stephanie called. The only reply was the sound of the front door slamming.
Clay sighed. “Can we just sit down and talk, please?”
“You can’t be serious. You cheat on me and now you want to nonchalantly discuss it over tea?”
He frowned. “It doesn’t have to be tea, for God’s sake, Stephanie. There’s still some wine—” He clamped his mouth shut.
The man had balls. She briefly contemplated clipping them off with a rusted pair of gardening shears before dismissing the notion. Instead of working on the news, she’d
be
the news. “I shouldn’t have to say this, Clayton, but since I now realize you’re not the brightest bulb around, here it is. We’re over.”
“Babe, please, give me another chance.”
She tossed his house key on the bed. “I won’t be needing that anymore.” She glanced around. “Where’s mine?”
He made no attempt to retrieve her key.
Stephanie shrugged. “I’ll change my locks.” She turned and walked toward the bedroom door, stopping next to the tall, mahogany chest. As she eyed the antique lamp on it, she was rather proud of herself for keeping her calm when normally, names would have been taken and asses kicked. Well, she
had
taken names.
She would go now, leaving both her dignity and Clay’s face intact. As long as he kept his mouth shut, this might work with a minimum of drama. But no.
“This is really your fault anyway.”
That did it. She ripped the lamp from its place on the chest and whirled around, propelling it at Clay’s head. It shot like a missile in the air, only missing his face by mere inches—and that was because, wine or not, the bastard had the reflexes of a cat. He ducked just before the lamp smashed against the wall behind him.
He looked wildly from Stephanie to the jagged shards on the floor. “You could have killed me!”
She tilted her head. “I could have, huh?”
Beads of sweat glistened on his forehead. “That thing cost over eight hundred bucks, I’ll have you know.”
“More than Donna then?”
His mouth dropped open.
Smiling, she headed for the door. Oh, the lamp was the least of Clayton Morrison’s worries. She wasn’t done with him yet. He was about to learn a hard lesson.
Nobody fucked with Stephanie Love.
Chapter 2
Stephanie strode into the station and headed straight for her office. Her coworkers were accustomed to the lack of pleasantries. For the most part, they stayed out of her way. She wasn’t into idle chitchat and gossip. Do the job and go home—wash, rinse, repeat.
Most saw her life as bleak and monotonous, and maybe it was. Nevertheless, it was also safe. She’d thought she’d finally found a ray of light in Clay and look how that had turned out.
Yeah, she’d just keep truckin’ right along with her bleak, drama-free existence, thank you.
Out of her many coworkers, there were only two she looked at with anything other than disinterest or contempt. One of whom was the woman who had the pleasure of having been Stephanie’s closest and, really,
only
, friend since high school—Amber Keegan.
And not one minute after Stephanie had ensconced herself within the wonderfully solitary confines of her office, Amber made her irritatingly perky appearance.
The door swung open and she bounded in, all smiles. Her raven-black hair, pulled into a high ponytail, swung from side to side.
“Ever hear of knocking?” Stephanie turned on her laptop and dropped down on her uncomfortable chair.
“Yeah,” Amber said, brown eyes sparkling, “but I never cared for it.”
“Apparently.”
“I have great news!” Clasping her hands beneath her chin, she bounced up and down on her four-inch heels. “Guess.”
Stephanie just looked at her.
“Come on,” she pleaded. “Please?”
“I don’t feel like—” She may as well give in now or else this pain would never end. “You won the lottery.”
“Nope.” Amber smiled. “I’m gonna need you to guess again.”
“And I’m gonna need you to kiss my—”
“Hey now, watch it.” Amber gave her friend a serious look. “Buck up, buttercup. Whatever it is can’t be that bad.”
She lifted an eyebrow. “‘Buck up,
buttercup
’
?
”
“Yeah, you’re meaner than usual and that’s saying something,” she said, taking a seat. “What happened?”
“Clay turned out to be a cheating asshole. What’s new with you?”
She gasped. “What?”
“Yeah,” Stephanie said casually, “I caught him banging some chick named Donna.” She thumbed through the files on her desk.
“You poor thing.” Amber leaned forward. “You want to talk about it?”
“Yeah,” Stephanie said dryly, “I’d love to rehash the experience over and over.”
Amber put her hands up. “Fine, just know that I’m here if you need to vent.” She sat back. “Besides, everything happens for a reason. You and Clay obviously weren’t meant to be, but now that leaves you free to find the
right
man.”
Amber, God love her, was a downright ball of sunshine and rainbows. One of those eternally optimistic, naturally cheerful people, she was always quick with a smile and a kind word. The woman had never met a stranger.
