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She sucked the last of her Pepsi through the paper straw, frustrated that she’d ended up the designated driver for her girlfriends. Again. They were supposed to be cheering her up. How had she been roped into staying sober? She watched as they tore it up on the dance floor of the club while she sat and minded their seats. They were wasted, and Cassidy knew she’d end up with puke all over her car. Another thing to add to the topics currently pissing her off—one, her friends, two, losing the leasing contract to the sanctimonious arsehole at City Space, three, being unable to get the cute arsehole from City Space out of her head, and four, not being able to wear underwear with this damn dress. Chalk it up to another stupid idea from her friends.

Cassidy toyed with her phone, tempted to call the cute arsehole, Denyer, and give him a piece of her mind. It was the second time in only a few weeks that his agency had screwed hers over. It was no coincidence that it happened right under her nose when he’d distracted her. The developer had an agreement with them; not locked in writing, sure, but an agreement, nevertheless. Each of the agencies was supposed to represent them, leveraging their different strengths to find the right tenants for the building. But she’d been met with silence when the developer failed to return the signed agency appointment. It was only after calling on a favour from a friend of a friend that the truth of why she was being stonewalled was revealed. Apparently, an exclusive appointment had been signed the day of their meeting. With City Scape.

Bastards.

Cassidy swiped her phone screen, her hands shaking. Anger surged through her like a violent thunderstorm, and she clenched her jaw, barely resisting the temptation to throw her empty glass. Bugger this. She opened her message app and bought up Denyer’s number, growling at the letters forming his name.

Her fingers flew as she typed out her thoughts in all caps. Yelling by text wasn’t nearly as satisfying as doing it face to face, but whatever. She didn’t proofread it, didn’t adjust anything before she hit Send. If she didn’t put it out there, didn’t tell him exactly what she thought of him, Cassidy would explode. But there was no release when she’d pressed the button and slammed her phone down, only seething rage that boiled her blood.

Whatever. At least he’d know. She’d teach him.

Within moments, her phone lit up, flashing with an incoming message.

I had no idea he was going to do it

I had no part in it, but I understand you feel betrayed

For what it’s worth, I’m sorry

“Bullshit,” she muttered. “What a crock.”

For what it’s worth, I DON’T forgive U. I can’t believe that a professional would stoop to the level U did. Your agency is a joke, and U…

Cassidy blew out a breath, shaking her head and staring daggers at the screen, willing him to respond so she could continue that sentence.

Can we talk about this face to face? I have some things I’d like to show you

“Ha!” She laughed, but it held no humour. Oh, if only he was there. She cracked her knuckles, wishing she could actually take out her frustration on him.

Sure, why the hell not. @ Depraved

His response was immediate. R U drunk?

She shook her head, disgusted. What? Coming in on your white stallion to rescue me? You’d be the last person I’d call

B there in 15

Cassidy glared at her phone, incensed. How dare he? The pompous arse actually thought he’d go there to keep her safe? As if anything he could say would make a difference. She wanted to see him one time. Just once to punch him in his beautiful face and break that perfect nose of his. Then, she wanted him out of her life and away from her career. She was sick of looking over her shoulder and getting kicked in the nuts when she let her guard down, even for a moment.

“So did it hurt?” She looked up to see a cute older man, who reminded her far too much of her dad sliding onto the seat next to her on the tall bar table.

“What?” It was a mental leap to shift from the POS on her phone to the man in front of her. Who was he?

“When you fell from heaven. Did it hurt?”

Cassidy blinked at him. That was by far the worst pickup line she’d ever heard. Was that what he was trying to do? Pick her up? She giggled, clamping her hand over her mouth to stop it from spilling out and offending the poor guy. His lip twitched, and she couldn’t hold her laugh in.

“I’m sorry, but that—”

“Is the worst pick up line ever, I know. But it got you to smile.”

“I’m here with friends. I’m not looking to hook up.” He nodded and pointed to her phone.

“If they’re making you that upset, it’s time to trade them in.”

She smiled, her mood lifting with every moment. “Thank you, I’m good.”

“Sir, I think it’s time you leave.” Her spine straightened, and her skin prickled. She’d recognize that voice anywhere. It had invaded her dreams and her every waking moment. But while he’d been painting the picture of a future Cassidy had never dared to imagine could come true, his boss had been screwing her over. The first time she’d been tag-teamed, and there’d been no happy ending for her.

Denyer stood in her personal space, sliding his hand into her hair in a show of possession. Cassidy clenched her fists, her nails making half-moon indents into her skin. “Hi, baby,” he added, leaning close to nuzzle her face. Denyer didn’t kiss her, but he came close to it. Cassidy’s rage flared again, and she gripped his chest between her forefinger and thumb and twisted hard. He hissed, and Cassidy registered what she’d grabbed—his nipple. It gave her a grim sense of satisfaction knowing she’d dished out a little of the sweet-tasting revenge she craved.

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About the Author

By day Ann Grech lives in the corporate world and can be found sitting behind a desk typing away at reports and papers or lecturing to a room full of students. She graduated with a PhD in 2016 and is now an over-qualified nerd. Glasses, briefcase, high heels and a pencil skirt, she’s got the librarian look nailed too. If only they knew! She swears like a sailor, so that’s got to be a hint. The other one was “the look” from her tattoo artist when she told him that she wanted her kids initials “B” and “J” tattooed on her foot. It took a second to register that it might be a bad idea.

She’s never entirely fit in and loves escaping into a book—whether it’s reading or writing one. But she’s found her tribe now and loves her MM book world family. She dislikes cooking, but loves eating, can’t figure out technology, but is addicted to it, and her guilty pleasure is Byron Bay Cookies. Oh and shoes. And lingerie. And maybe handbags too. Well, if we’re being honest, we’d probably have to add her library too given the state of her credit card every month (what can she say, she’s a bookworm at heart)!

She also publishes her raunchier short stories under her pen name, Olive Hiscock.

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