A few hours later
When my eyes opened, I realized I wasn't in my bedroom. Strange enough, I was dreaming about Bexley's. Why was I dreaming about Bexley's? It wasn't the most fun place to be. Rubbing my eyes, I lifted my head, and it almost felt like I got hit by a truck in the back.
Hell no! I had spent the night on my desk. When I lifted my arm, I couldn't feel it. Okay, so my arm was still sleeping. Why did I have to get up when my whole body had gone numb! Stupid, stupid arm. That is what happens when you don't mind your own business. I might have passed out reading that diary. I reached out for the leather binder, but it wasn't on my desk.
What the fuck! Did I dream about it too?
I need to feel alive before I figure out what the hell happened.I walked straight for the elevator.
The metal vessel shot up to the 120th Floor. That's where the sauna is. When I said working at Bexley's was every editor's dream, I was talking about these little privileges that amount to nothing compared to the monstrous work that we were to do! But everyone can use a sauna now and then. Especially, after a shitty all-nighter. As I walked, I realized my legs were Jell-O, and I had to give myself a caffeine high soon or I might go bonkers.
The sauna was accessible to every Bexley employee, and because it was a freaking six in the morning, there wasn't a single soul in the sauna, or so I thought.
I stripped, butt naked, too happy to let go of the hideous pencil skirt. I looked like a Monster High chic and couldn't decide if this was the scariest I could look with a low bun. So I let go of the bobby pin, and disastrous curls landed on my shoulders. Note to self: Get a hair spa treatment. I sighed and thought of all the times I had denied going to the spa to save money for another set of paperbacks. It was a close call, but now that I saw the aftermath, I could only blame myself.
I wrapped myself in one of the towel from the arrays. I think they went overboard with towels. Why would they need gazillion towels for a sum of hundred people who rarely showed up at the sauna! The only time I came here was when I felt all the life getting sucked out of me. In the past few days, that feeling came more often than not.
I turned the glass door open, and no sooner than I went on to sit on the lower bench than I realized I was not alone.
"Eek!" I screamed.
"What the hell are you doing here?" I asked, my eyes covered with my palms.
Does he not have shame to flash a young lady like myself with his manly charms? God, should I take a peek. Only once? He didn't seem that bad.
"Well, I am enjoying the sauna!" his tone was playful, and I couldn't help but keep peeking from the edge of my palm.
"Would you mind getting a towel then?" I said irritably.
With due honesty, I didn't mind the scene, but to save myself from being called a pervert, I should act like I am bothered. Shouldn't I?
"It's nothing you haven't seen before, Mellon!" he chuckled, and his voice felt close.
"What the fuck are you doing? Get the hell out."
That wasn't sexy or hot anymore. I was panting in the steam, pretending my eyes were closed and teased by the most vicious man on the planet!
Screw me, Lord! But not with him! I mumbled a silent prayer.
Silence falls in, and by the time my eyes were open again, he was standing way too close, with a towel around his waist. As the rumor goes, every female employee had thought of him as a hot bastard. Well, the news-it's all true. Bad news- I was staring at his ripped body.
YOU ARE READING
The Bucketlist
RomanceWhen Bexley's editor Eva Mellon tries to dig up secrets on an impromptu 'Office Romeo', whose oblivious 'Juliet' stands in the way of 'her forever' with fellow colleague Josh, she finds herself eerily attracted to the no-nonsense, intimidating (but...