Chapter One
Ash
I hardly heard the barista calling out my name after I’d zoned out on the term paper I was never going to finish. I popped up from my seat and weaved through the crowd of people that had swarmed the coffee shop.
“Annie Position…” the barista said again, and I smirked at my lame idea of a fake name that I thought would be funny—until all of the city showed up and heard it. “Matcha Frappuccino.”
“Right here,” I said, cheeks hot with the attention my lame-ass idea caused.
“Cute,” she said with a wink.
“Ha,” was all I could manage.
I turned to get the hell out of the mob, and the next thing I knew, my stupid alias was no longer the attention grabber.
“Shit!” I said as my Frappuccino went directly into the center of a white button-down shirt.
“Fuck,” the guy said, his arms out and eyes roaming over the green stain, slowly oozing in a frozen blob down his shirt.
“Damn it. I’m so sorry!” I said, not knowing the first way to redeem myself for spinning around too fast to pay attention to the couple standing behind me.
His eyes met mine after I made some super effort to throw the offensive drink in the trash and grab napkins. I instinctively threw a pile on the ground and took the other handful to wipe what was left on his shirt.
His hand covered mine, and his blue eyes sparkled as the sun would over a tropical sea. Holy fuck! I thought, trying to keep at bay the rapidly-approaching, third embarrassing thing that could happen in five seconds. This guy was the sexiest man I’d ever laid eyes on—Hollywood hunks included.
“I’ve got it,” he said, his lips turning up into an irresistible grin.
“Good God,” a female’s voice screeched with annoyance. “Go!” she waved me off, reminding me I’d caused enough damage already.
I eyed her. “Let me at least do something,” I said, her green eyes narrowing while her mauve lips pursed in annoyance.
She folded her arms. “Do something?” she questioned me with an arch of her perfectly shaped eyebrow. “Maybe you would like to lick your silly drink off his chest?”
“Go order her another one,” the guy I’d assaulted with my drink said in a half-humored, half-demanding tone to the woman.
“You don’t have to boss your girl around over my dumbass mistake.”
“She’s not my girl,” he said, glaring at the woman before he leveled me with a darker stare. “What’s your choice of beverage that I have the luxury of adding to my wardrobe colors today?”
WTF?
“What’s the drink?” the bitch seethed.
Who the hell were these two, the power-suit couple? They were dressed and looked the part of two wealthy people who came to San Francisco to take over the place.
“Matcha Frap,” I said, trying to let this shitshow move forward so we could stop the back and forth, and I could hide behind my computer, waiting for them to call my real name this time.
“Name?” she asked, folding her arms and rightfully annoyed.
“Um, right, it’s—”
“Any Position,” the man said in the same demanding tone he’d used for his gal pal. “Isn’t that what they called before you painted my suit green?”
“Annie,” I smiled, cheeks flushed, knowing my face was beet red.
“Nice name,” he answered, blotting the stained shirt.
“Are you naturally nice to strangers who ruin your wardrobe but are an asshole to your friends?” I asked, thumb pointing to where the blonde with mauve lips stood in line with eyes of fire directed toward me.
“I’m feeling rather compassionate for someone who appears to be having a rough day.” I felt my breath hitch, and my heart reacted to his turquoise blue eyes.
“Nice of you to assume that,” I half-smiled. “And the reason your friend is stuck with my problem?”
“Long story,” he smiled. “She’ll get over it. Trust me.”
“Wow. Well, I am sorry about this,” I sighed. “I’ll just go wait over there.” I pointed toward my laptop. “I have five minutes at most now to turn in my essay.”
“All the more reason that my friend,” his eyes shifted toward the woman and back to me, “is ordering for you.”
“Yeah,” I said. “Thanks again.”
The guy was too gorgeous for words, and there was no way in hell I was looking back at him or up from my computer to catch another angle of the black-haired god who’d given a facelift of beauty to the coffee shop when he walked into the door.
I hit send on my essay with one minute to spare and waited to hear the swoosh sound on my email before I could collapse back into the booth seat and let my nerves crash after everything that had happened.
By the time I gathered myself, my dumbass attempt to be funny name was called again, and the couple was nowhere in sight. Thank God. The coffee shop was still busy, but I was on my way out anyway. I needed to get back to my hotel room and wind down.
I was supposed to go out with some old high school friends who lived in the area tonight, and at this point, I could use a drink, or ten, or twenty. Or not. Tomorrow was my cousin’s wedding day, and I probably shouldn’t be hungover while having to sit through the superficial ceremony I’d been forced to attend on mine and dad’s behalf. Dad owed me for this bigtime.
I pulled the back strap of my heels up on my left foot, hobbling on the right foot in the new stilettos I knew I’d hate by the end of this weekend. I bought them to match the burgundy dress I’d wear to the wedding, and I decided to break them in tonight. Something told me comfort wasn’t part of the expensive shoes that I shouldn’t have let the sales associate talk me into purchasing.
One last glance at my strapless, bandage dress, and I was good to go. I tried pulling my natural waves back up, but it wasn’t working.
“Screw it. It’s not like I’m out to meet guys tonight.” I laughed at the idea. Let’s get part one of my trip to Frisco out of the way…hanging at a rooftop club with friends I hadn’t seen since high school.
The Uber dropped me off at a super fancy hotel that was well lit and immediately oozed wealth and power out of the front doors. Flags from across the world hung over the entrance while the luxury cars that lined up made my compact Uber selection appear to be dropping me off at the wrong place.
“What the hell?” I whispered.
“You might meet a famous person,” the Uber driver informed me.
“Good Lord,” I answered, paying, and then getting out of the car.
I weaved my way through the cars and people entering at the same time as me. I was surrounded by luxury and needed to find my friends fast!
“Ashley Taylor,” I said to the concierge as Beth had instructed me to do when I got here.
“Miss Taylor,” he sifted through papers. “Will you be staying with us tonight?”
“I’m here to meet friends at a rooftop lounge,” I said softly.
He reached for a pen to scroll along a screen installed in front of him. “I see,” he answered. “Richard,” he waved someone over to him, “please escort Miss Taylor to her party on the top.”