Chapter 4

Kiara

"Ms. Black, we're going to have to let you go."

I blink rapidly, trying to process what my boss, Mr. Davis, just said. "I'm sorry...what?"

"We must make budget cuts."

Liar. There's not an ounce of empathy on his stupid, tanned face.

"So was I like the first on the list or-" I can't help but raise my voice as I grow more upset.

"Ms. Black, it's been two years since you wrote a bestseller and no offense, but your romance novels are no longer drawing the attention of your audience."

Why do people say "no offense" when what they're about to say is going to offend the fuck out of you?

My face contorts with hurt and confusion. "So what you're saying is...my books are...boring?"

He clears his throat, gazing out the window of his office. "Look Kiara, your audience is looking for spice. The spicier, the better. Your latest manuscript has not one explicit scene in it, it might as well be YA," he continues, "I'm sorry, but no one is willing to publish it."

And I didn't think I could get more offended...

"If you can rewrite it with more spice, theres a chance we may bring you back on board, but for now, we have to let you go," he says stoically.

Universe, just fuck me right? First, my boyfriend cheats on me with my sister. I have to sleep in my damn car for the next month. Now, I'm getting fired from my job.

What a wonderful week I'm having (note the sarcasm).

"You know what, you don't have to fire me because I quit!" I exclaim, abruptly standing from the chair and storming out of his office without another glance.

I can feel the eyes of my former colleagues on me, but I keep my head down as I make my way to the elevator.

I manage to hold it in until I reach my car. I swear, this is the most I've cried since my boyfriend in kindergarten proposed to another girl with a ring pop.

I have maybe six months worth of living expenses covered. Six months to write a best-seller and find another agency to publish it.

Or I will lose everything.

Sooo, I'm going to need a drink. Like right fucking now!

I pull up to the nearest bar using my GPS. It's practically empty inside except for the bartender and two other guys. Considering it's only noon, I'm surprised anyone is here at all.

I'm two drinks in when I hear the door swing open. Someone plops down beside me, but I ignore them. There's like ten different bar stools in here, why the hell do they have to sit beside me?

With a voice smoother than molasses, he asks, "what's a pretty girl like you doing in a bar like this?"

I recoil in disgust. The last thing I need is some guy hitting on me right now.

"Two more vodka tonics, please!"

"Put it on my tab, and I'll have a bud, please." The bartender nods in the man's direction.

Oh great, the asshole wants to play savior.

I scowl as the drinks land on the counter in front of us.

"You know, I can pay for my own drinks," I assert, still avoiding eye contact.

"Never said you couldn't, but someone as gorgeous as you shouldn't have to."

I learned early in life that guys don't do something nice unless they can get something out of it.

I roll my eyes. "Let me guess, what do you want in return? Sex?"

He chuckles deliciously. "If you're up to it."

"What?" I shriek, shooting the stranger a glare. My eyes widen as I'm completely captivated by the sight of the man in front of me.

He's handsome. Like drop-dead sexy. He has a beautiful, mocha-toned complexion with chiseled features, and hazel eyes that steal your breath away. I can tell he's tall and muscles ripple underneath his black t-shirt, exuding power and confidence.

"Like what you see?" he flashes a crooked grin, exposing his dimples. They are like deep craters of charm that only make him more irresistible.

I immediately hate him. Nobody should look this damn yummy. Nobody!

"No!" I snap, quickly turning away to hide my flushed cheeks.

Who the hell does this guy think he is? I've never seen someone be so direct, so fucking sure of himself. It's absurd. It's infuriating. It's....wait, why can't I stop this heat from pooling between my legs?

"Why are you at a bar at noon on a Tuesday?"

I continue to avert my eyes from the sexy stranger. "I could ask you the same thing."

He hums. "Let me guess...some little boy broke your heart and you're feeling bitter, and plan to push away every man that tries to come into your life after him?"

I toss back another glass. "I bet if you caught your sibling sleeping with your significant other, you would be bitter too."

He's silent for a long moment. "I'm sorry, that really sucks."

He sounds sincere, but it's too late. He's already hit a sore spot.