Chapter 4

The asshole and I crossed paths again. Literally the very next day.....

That morning , the blaring of my alarm clock cut through my skull like a god-damned jackhammer, dragging me out of the dream which I'd rather not talk about because it featured a certain egoistic someone. I groaned, fumbling blindly to silence the damn thing, but my hand knocked it off the nightstand instead. The muffled beeping continued from the floor.

Great start to the day.

I cracked one eye open, immediately regretting it as the sunlight pierced through the blinds. My mouth tasted like regret and vodka martinis. My head? A battlefield. I groaned again, this time louder, like it might summon divine intervention. It didn’t.

Pulling myself out of bed felt like scaling a mountain, but I managed, wobbling slightly as I staggered to the shower. The cold water was like a slap to the face, jolting me halfway to life, though it did nothing to fix the fact that I was running late..again.

Zig, my boss, was chill, but even he had limits. I couldn’t keep pushing them.

Wrapped in a towel, I dived into my closet, immediately confronted by my terrible life choices. The laundry pile stared at me from the corner, judgmental and overflowing. I sighed, digging through the wreckage, pulling out piece after piece that was either wrinkled, stained, or wildly inappropriate.

Finally, I unearth a skirt I hadn’t seen since my rebellious high school days. It was short. Like, criminally short. The kind of short that screamed bad decisions. But it was clean. I tossed it on the bed and grabbed a sheer top I “borrowed” from Addy months ago, knowing full well she was still bitter about it. Together, the outfit was a train wreck of epic proportions, but I didn’t have the energy to care.

Sunglasses on, keys in hand, I was out the door by 7:58. Victory.

Or so I thought.

Because the second I stepped onto the pavement, I saw him.

Leaning against a sleek black car, his posture relaxed, his suit annoyingly perfect, and that arrogant smirk plastered on his face like it was carved there. Adam fucking Crest.

My headache tripled.

I stopped in my tracks, lowering my sunglasses just enough to confirm it was really him. It was. Of course it was.

He raised an eyebrow, like he was waiting for me to acknowledge him. The audacity.

I shook my head, sliding my sunglasses back into place. "Unbelievable," I muttered to myself, flipping him off because I just didn't have the energy to deal with him.

He laughed. I could hear the smugness in it, even as I strode past him, my heels clicking against the pavement. I didn’t slow down, didn’t give him the satisfaction of looking back.

I couldn't believe this was how my day started. Hungover, dressed like a stripper, and already dealing with him.

Perfect.

For a while, I thought he'd driven away and let me be. But suddenly, the sharp purr of an engine caught my attention just as I crossed the street. His car, shining obnoxiously under the morning sun, rolled past me at a crawl before pulling sharply into my path. I stopped short, heart pounding from the near miss, and watched as the car settled into place, effectively cutting me off.

That bloody bastard!

I sighed, crossing my arms and narrowing my eyes as the driver’s door swung open. Adam Crest stepped out, looking maddeningly perfect in his tailored suit and infuriating smirk. The man had an uncanny ability to look like he belonged on the cover of a magazine at any hour of the day, which only made me dislike him more.

“What’s your deal?” I snapped, my patience already worn thin. Between the hangover pounding in my skull and my questionable wardrobe, this was not what I needed.

“Good morning to you too, flower,” he drawled, completely unbothered. He leaned casually against the car door, folding his arms like he had all the time in the world. “Get in. I’ll drop you off.”

I blinked, taken aback by his audacity. “No, thanks. I can manage.”

His brow lifted slightly, amused. “ I know you have a thing for public scenes Layla, but how about we skip that part this morning?” His gaze landed on mine, that smirk of his widening.

My hands clenched into fists at my sides. “Don’t you have anything better to do?”

He shrugged, his posture so casual it made me want to scream. “Not really.”

We were locked in a battle of wills. I hated how good he looked this morning, like he’d just stepped out of a cologne ad, perfectly composed while I felt like a mess barely held together.

“Listen, I don’t have time for this,” I said, gesturing past him. “Move your car, Crest. I’m going to be late.”

“ Just get in the car,” he said, his tone calm but insistent, as if he was speaking to some stubborn child.

" There's only two ways this will end–" he began, but then he suddenly went quiet. His eyes swept over me, slower this time, and his expression shifted, his brows pulling together in what looked suspiciously like confusion, and maybe a little bit of horror.

“What the fucking hell are you wearing?” he asked, his voice sharp, almost accusatory.

I froze, my own gaze narrowing at the change in his tone. “What?”

He took a step back, gesturing vaguely at me as his eyes roamed over my outfit again, this time with a look that was undeniably irritated. “That skirt barely qualifies as fabric, and your top—” He stopped, running a hand through his hair, as if he was genuinely grappling with the sight of me.

Heat rose to my cheeks, though I wasn’t sure if it was from embarrassment or anger. “Excuse me? Did I ask for your opinion on my outfit?”

“No,” he shot back, his jaw tightening. “But someone has to say it. You look—” He stopped again, his frustration palpable.

“I look fine,” I said firmly, crossing my arms. “And, frankly, it’s none of your business.”

He muttered something under his breath, his hands going to his hips as he shook his head. “Unbelievable,” he finally said, staring at me like I was some sort of puzzle he couldn’t solve.

“I could say the same about you,” I shot back, sidestepping him.

But before I could make it past, his voice stopped me again. “You’re seriously not walking to work like that.”

I turned to face him, my temper flaring. “Watch me.”

His expression darkened, but he didn’t say anything else, his jaw tightening as he watched me walk away.