Bryce

Another morning, another hangover.

I groan and roll over in bed. I don't want to get up yet, not when it feels like there's a battery ram running through my head. All I want to do is sleep in but there's a gap in the curtain where the sun's shining right in my eyes. I reach for another pillow next to me but my hand encounters a face instead.

I prop myself up on one elbow. "Who the hell are you?"

I glare at the woman next to me. She's as naked as I am, her blonde hair a mess, and if I have to guess from the way she peers at me with one eye open, is probably dealing with the same level of hangover I'm in.

"Oh, Bryce, last night was wonderful." Her voice is as raspy as mine, thick with sleep.

"I'm glad to hear that, but who are you?"

"Oh, Bryce, you're so funny. I'm Fran," she replies, sighing dramatically. "You have to remember me. We had the most wonderful night together. You were amazing, baby."

Bits and pieces of the night before play back inside my head. It was one night of many with me going out to one of the newest clubs in town and getting drunk in the process. That's what fun is supposed to be, right? Although whatever "fun" I'm supposed to have lately hasn't been enough. Something's been missing. Maybe it worked for a few months until the day I wake up barely remembering the woman sleeping next to me.

I also remember other things. And because of that, I can't just smother myself under the pillows and hope to go back to sleep, not when Dad wants me to get started on some big important green building project. Sure, I have a degree in architecture but my masters is in business development. Too bad Dad keeps insisting I need to know the production side of things if I'm to take over the firm one day.

He's right, of course, but he also expects too much of me and so I end up having to have some poor underling do all the work while I take full credit. It's dumb but my father insists it's the only way I'll know how to run the business when he's gone. It's as if I hadn't spent three years learning everything I could about the business as an intern at one of the country's top architectural firms in New York.

I rake my fingers through my hair as I sit up. "Well... Fran. You'll need to show yourself out because I've got a lot to do this morning and not much time to do it."

She pouts, batting her eyelashes. "You'll call me later, right? I'd love for you to take me out to dinner tonight."

"Sorry, babe, I have other plans."

Fran pouts even more but gets out of bed, sauntering toward the bathroom without a stitch of clothing on. As she shuts the door behind her, I lay back in bed and groan.

What can I say? Sometimes, a one-night stand is simply that, a one-night stand. She's also throwing off the vibe of someone who's only after me for being one of Auburn Springs' most eligible bachelors. She'd laughingly told me so last night when we met at the bar. She even knew my standing, number four with the top spot held by my friend Dr. Tai Okuda. Another friend, Dr. Parker O'Neill ranked number six but he's actually off the market, having officially gotten engaged over the summer.

Who comes up with these lists anyway and how the hell did my ranking fall two slots from last year?

My phone beeps from the bedside table and as I retrieve it, I can't help but grin. Speaking of the devil...

Parker: We still up for golf at 1?

Golf. I'd completely forgotten. I promised Parker I'd help him with his golf swing. I mean, the guy may be one of the world's most promising neurosurgeons but his golf swing needs a lot of help.

Bryce: Of course.

Parker: See you at 1 then.

Twenty minutes later, Fran leaves and I go through my morning routine. I'll be late to the office but being the boss's son has its many advantages. Part of me wants more even as I know that I'm a walking stereotype, the failure of a son who'd be nothing without his Daddy's money. But it's not like I'm going to give it all up to prove some sort of point. If I'm going to make something more of myself, I may as well do it from a position of power. I just wish Dad acknowledged that my strength isn't in leading the production department but more on the management side of things.

A quick breakfast and I head to Holden Designs, the company my father built from the ground up. As I step out of the elevator, hundreds of employees scurry about, carrying out whatever needs to be done to keep the company running. Sure, we have our main offices in New York but this one, towering over the town of Auburn Springs, is Dad's pride and joy. It's where it all began over twenty years ago and where he wants me working even though I've asked to be assigned to the main office. It's his way of reminding me that even though I'm 27-years-old, I'm always going to be under his watchful eye.

But I can't worry about that right now. I need to get this proposal done in time for tomorrow's presentation. I need to at least speak to my lead assistant, Giana Avila, some woman I've never met although her name is familiar. She's been working at the firm for the last two years and this is her first big project. In fact, she's one of the assistants on my floor who's handled most of my earlier projects and thus, has made me look good to my father. Maybe that's why he trusts her with this proposal which means I trust her, too.

I should at least show up and play nice with her given she's going to end up doing most of the work and only get a small part of the credit. It's unfair, but it's how it is in the world, guys like me being rewarded for shit we don't do.

There's a woman deeply focused on her work when I walk toward my office. A brunette, her hair secured in a ponytail hanging long behind her back, with curves in all the right places.

"You must be Giana," I say as she turns to face me.

The moment our eyes meet, something hits me like a lightning strike, robbing me of breath. I regain my composure, frowning as I take her outstretched hand, her grip firm.

She's wearing thick glasses but I can see the fire in her brown eyes through the lenses and the cutest face behind it, complete with freckles. She's by all accounts someone I'd describe as nerdy-looking if I were still back in school but just like her curves, I mean that in the best way possible. She's cute and downright sexy.

"And you must be Bryce Holden, Jr., my project manager," she says, the disdain in her voice unmistakable as I shake her hand.

"Yup, that's me. So how far along are we?" The word "we" feels like a joke but it is what it is.

"I've worked out the site plan drawings and preliminary cost estimates," she replies. "I'm currently tackling the rest of the proposal, incorporating the green building concepts outlined in the original request."

As she continues to describe what she's done so far, there's no mistaking the passion in her voice, the way her body relaxes as she describes what she's done so far, pointing to certain features in the blueprints in front of her. She loves what she does and it's sexy as hell.

I'm too lost in my thoughts that I don't realize she's stopped speaking. I clear my throat. "I appreciate the work you're doing, Giana. My father wants to show our clients where we're going with this project and to maintain their confidence. The last thing we want is for them to change their mind."

It's all bullshit, though. The client is one of the firm's longtime clients who decided to build one of the first green buildings in Auburn Springs and he's giving us a test drive, seeing what we can deliver that another firm outside of town can't. He's also an old friend of my father's, a tough no-nonsense businessman whose kids Dad never fails to compare me to. But Giana doesn't need to know that.

"I'll get the presentation to you first thing tomorrow morning," she says before picking up a pen and directing all her attention to the blueprint laid out in front of her, my presence forgotten.

I peer over her shoulder as she resumes drafting. While I'm no expert in sustainable architecture, I know enough to recognize how deliberate she's being with her design. Ever since my father let go of a few long-time employees last year due to subpar work that led to the firm losing two accounts, the new crop of architects he's brought in like Giana are hungrier and less likely to commit the same mistakes.

I clear my throat. "If there's anything I can do to assist you, don't hesitate to ask."

"Sure," she says, barely looking up from her work.

I'm not quite sure whether or not to be offended for not being given the attention I usually get from the employees but I can't blame her. I'm going to get the credit for all her hard work no matter what she thinks of me. But I also can't stand here all day peering over her shoulder.

"Anyway, I'll be in my office if you need anything."

Inside my office, I plop myself down in my chair before sneaking another glance at my new assistant. There's something about her that has me smitten, a feeling made worse by the fact that she hasn't even given me a second glance like most women would have done. She probably knows better than to get herself involved with the likes of me.

Now that's beauty and brains.