My alarm clock goes off at 6 a.m. on the dot, but I smack the snooze button and let out an overly dramatic groan. I’m not much of a morning person. In fact, I loathe mornings and everything that goes with them: breakfast, coffee, newspapers, and cheery morning people. The thought of any of it makes me want to cry and hide under my blankets till noon rolls around.
As I drift in and out of sleep, I think about what my day will bring. Probably the usual: my boss reprimanding me for my bad attitude, being chastised for rolling my eyes, and jumping to fulfill every ridiculous fucking demand that rolls into his thick head. If I don’t get my ass out of this bed, I’ll also end up rushing to get ready—probably getting to work late and once again getting bitched out by my boss who I hate almost as much as I hate mornings.
Of all the people in this world, I had to end up working for Matthew Lewis III, also known as Satan’s younger, hotter brother. He’s good-looking and he knows it, which is the worst—cocky, arrogant, and rich as hell. With a name like that, of course he is. Honestly, I have no idea why he’s even working as a lawyer at the firm. He told Daniel it had more to do with an honest day’s work, being fulfilled, and getting out from under his overbearing father’s thumb. I personally think it’s all a crock of shit. I just know the devil put him here to torture me any way he could. Why would I be on the devil’s radar you ask? I have no idea, but I think I did something in my past life that I’m still being punished for today. That’s my best guess, anyway.
The alarm goes off again, and this time, I shut the damn thing off and sit up with a groan. “Why does my life suck?” I ask looking up toward the ceiling as if God is listening to me. I put my feet on the floor and raise my steepled hands. “I swear, I’ll be a better person. I’ll live a better life. Just get me out of this shit job . . . and winning the lottery wouldn’t hurt. Just saying,” I add on to whomever or whatever is listening.
I trudge my way to the shower and step beneath the hot flow of water, letting it rain down over my head to wash my hair and body. After I’m done, I feel like I have some extra time since I didn’t oversleep too much today, so I sit on the shower floor, letting the water warm me from the outside in. Pretty soon, I’m warm, comfy, and falling back asleep. The next thing I know, cold water is waking me like I’ve been shocked. I have no idea how long I’ve been sitting there, but by the looks of my pruny fingers, it’s been a touch too long. I jump up and turn off the water, wrapping myself in a towel as I make my way to the bedroom to get dressed.
My teeth are chattering so much that I feel like I’m in a Scooby-Doo episode. I’m too cold to move, so I climb back into bed and pull the blankets around me. “Mmm, that’s better,” I mumble to myself as my eyes close. I open them quickly to check the time. 7 a.m.
Shit! I passed out for another 30 minutes. I throw off the blanket and push my numb toes out of mind as I dress as quickly as possible. I don’t have time to blow-dry or do much with my hair, so I gather the long auburn locks into my hand and wrap them around to form a bun, pinning it down. I throw on some mascara and lip gloss and call it a good job.
I’m walking into the office and I’m literally only two minutes late, but does that matter to Mr. Matthew Lewis III? Ha, no. Late is late, and he’s already standing at my desk with a slip. Who even uses physical slips in this day and age?
I want to stop dead in my tracks when I see him, but I push myself forward anyway. He holds out the slip and I take it as I pass.
“Third day in a row, Ms. Russell.” He begins tsk-tsking me.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Lewis, but—” I start with my excuses.