PS... You’re Mine by Alexa Riley

Author:Alexa Riley [Riley, Alexa]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2016-01-30T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 3

Noelle

Smacking the modem again, I know my efforts are fruitless. I’ve reset the stupid thing four times now and nothing has gotten it to work. My only other option was smacking it, and that doesn’t seem to be working either. Glancing out the window, I can see the snow starting to come down a little harder, but not enough to make me think it would cause internet issues.

“Damn it.” I smack the modem again, saying a silent prayer, and all the lights go out on it. Dead. Like my contract with ‘All for You.’ The thought makes my stomach turn sour. No more Alex. Maybe he won’t fire me, but maybe he will. He told me he wanted this today. I glance at the clock and see it’s already five p. m. on Christmas Eve. Everything is closed. There’s no way I can even pack up and go to a local coffee shop to use their Wi-Fi to send the file.

My options are running out. No, not running out. I have none. Zero. I’m screwed. Maybe I can call and explain and make him understand. I decide to give it a shot. I call Alex. It’s something I’ve never done before because he always calls me. The phone rings six times before going to voice mail, making me wonder what he’s doing. I roll my eyes, thinking it’s none of my business.

He’s probably sitting in front of a fire with his family or girlfriend, eating cookies and having an oh-so-perfect Christmas. I’m sure it’s like one of those sappy romance novels I’ve narrated before.

Plopping down on the couch, I begin mourning the loss of the best contract I’ve ever had. Screw that. It isn’t the job I’m sad about losing, it’s him. He seems to have this weird hold on me. How have I latched myself onto someone I barely know? Someone who never shares anything personal about themselves, even when I try to pull things from him. Sometimes I feel like it is there on the tip of his tongue, but it just never comes.

When my phone rings, it makes me jump off the couch and hurriedly pick it up without looking to see who it is.

“Alex?” I say into the phone, hating the way my voice comes out all breathy like I just ran a mile.

“Who’s Alex?” my mom chirps into the phone, making me drop back down onto the couch.

“No one, Mom.” The lie easily rolls off my tongue. I don’t want to get into it with her about an imaginary relationship with a man who is essentially my boss. She’d ask me what he looks like, how often we went out, on and on. All things I couldn’t answer, and that’s when she’d really start in on me about being more social and how I should maybe talk to a head shrinker to see what was wrong with me.

Nothing is wrong with me. I’m just a homebody. I haven’t found a person who wants to be a homebody with me yet.

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