A bad boy, enemies-to-lovers, office, roommate romance.
Aiden is an alphahole and absolutely infuriating.
You’re going to effing love him!
A nice girl. A nice girl who has recently figured out that nice girls get the shaft. So, I’ve decided to become Carly 2.0 and say buh-bye Carly 1.0, the doormat.
There’s a problem, though. An alphahole is my new roommate and my CEO"s son. He"s also my boss and the alphahole is gunning to ruin me.
Alphahole: A grade-A alpha male asshole.
The epitome" Aiden Carmichael.
Aiden wants to give me the shaft. In multiple ways, if you get my drift.
Good thing the new me has decided to fight back and if push comes to shove, fight dirty.
I’m Aiden. Alphahole.
Or so the chick my father put in my corporate apartment and my department at the office calls me. Whatever. She’s got spunk. And a great rack. She tries to come off as a badass, but I see right through the act. If she’s gonna tangle with me, she’ll be the one to get tied up in knots. It won’t be me.
I have no problem fighting and as far as I’m concerned, the dirtier the better.Books by Author:D.D. Prince Books
I get out of the cab, grateful I can finally breathe something other than a potpourri of body odor, garlic, and onions. I take in some San Diego air and look up at the architecturally impressive building in front of me. My new home; for at least the next three months, anyway.
I fumble for the envelope in my carry-on and pull out a key as the cab driver rounds the car to open the trunk.
The key was sent to me in interoffice mail two days before by the CEO"s admin. It"s a key is to my corporate apartment. I"ll share it with another new employee named Ally and I"m told she"s arriving tomorrow.
I"ll be here for three months, minimum. If I have my way, I"ll be living in this city for the foreseeable future. I"ve been here less than an hour and I already love it.
I feel a little like the twirling Mary Tyler Moore in the opening credits of her show, in the big city, looking around me and wanting to toss my hat up in the air.
I"m not wearing a hat, so I opt for a big smile pointed at the sky. I"ve lived in a big city all my life, but this one" This feels like the fresh start I need.
I am stoked about starting my new job on Monday. I"ll be an online marketing strategist for a business consultancy firm. It feels like I"m finally getting paid my due.
I"ve worked my ass off since graduating college; interning and working as a peon for a marketing agency (now a subsidiary of this company) for almost three years. And now I"m here, in sunny San Diego, working at the new parent company"s head office, and making bank for three months, hoping it"ll turn permanent.
If it doesn"t, and I have to go back to Buffalo"
I can"t think that way, and I can already tell that I"m going to work my patootie off to make sure that doesn"t happen.
The list of perks is good. Free taxis to and from work. I get to live rent-free for the duration of my contract. If I"m offered a full-time job after that, I"m sure I"ll need to find my own place.
I"ll likely work fewer hours than what I worked back home and at almost three times the salary with more autonomy, and a whole new life.
I wanted this new life. After all I"d been through lately" Heck, I needed it and cautiously told myself that I even deserved it.
I needed to get away from Jon (ex). Away from Caitlin (sister). Away from Stephanie (ex-bestie). Just away.
Before I arrived, I decided that this was gonna be great. I was gonna be a whole new Carly. The old Carly let people walk on her. The old Carly didn"t stand up for herself nearly enough.
Now that I"ve arrived, I hereby declare myself Carly 2.0.
No one but me needs to know that this new and improved version of me isn"t who I"ve always been.
The cab driver gets my giant rolling suitcase from the trunk and as he hands it to me, I thank him, not at all thankful I"m getting caught in the eau du garbage can cologne cloud again. Whether he is making the car smell bad or the car is making him smell bad, I don"t know, but it isn"t pleasant.
He hasn"t spoken on the drive from the airport; I"ve got no clue what his nationality is, but the tall and thin, nearly gaunt, olive-skinned 40-something man with the dark eyes has been stoic.
I give him a smile. "Have a great day. Thank you again!" I hand him a crisp ten-dollar bill on top of the signed taxi slip that the company sent me, and he eyes the cash in his hand and then smiles back and his eyes are aimed at my mouth, then they move down to my toes and then back up to my head again. Eek. I hope he"s not about to ask me out.
He hasn"t said a word, just driven, but now he"s standing there smiling at me. Creepily.
I reach for the handle on my suitcase, pull it up and lock it into that position, heft my carry-on and my purse over each shoulder, and head to the revolving doors of the glass fa"ade building.
The cabbie is still oddly standing there, smiling at me. I wave and head inside, feeling a little unnerved at his friendliness.
That"s the thing about me. I"m too friendly. Too trusting. Too nice. Or, that"s been me thus far. And that"s why I"ve gotten walked on, screwed over, and treated like a doormat. Repeatedly.
I"ve come here with a plan to turn over a new leaf. No more bullshit-eating Doormat Carly. After the storm I"ve just weathered, I"ve hit my limit. I"m done. That"s why I"m here. New Carly. New life. Bullshit-free.