If I Were You [FEATURED]

7 - Florian

Fuzzy flashes of last night fleet through my mind. Christina cheering Lynn on as the latter guzzles an ale. Ear-shattering music. The sharp tang of alcohol. A woody fragrance, warm and comforting.

The last part baffles me. Did I stroll around a park or a forest after that drink? Gosh, I hope I didn't hug a tree and make a fool of myself.

Well, no time to delve into the matter if I don't want to be late for my other part-time job. I let out a yawn. In my back, the blankets shift in answer. Shock surges through me.

There's someone in my bed.

Careful not to make unnecessary noises or movements, I turn to identify whoever is sleeping by my side. They're buried under the covers, but wow, they're massive. And very hairy, judging from the elbow that peeks out near the pillow.

I moan inwardly. Is this happening? Did I hook up with a stranger? Oh, Goddess, what's the protocol afterwards? Should I say good morning or hide in the bathroom until they leave?

A low huff sends shivers across the sheets; I freeze. The icy tendrils of realization prod around my spine. Is that...

I scramble away and remove the sheets. Then scream, from the top of my lungs.

The door bursts open, and Alexandra storms inside the room, wearing jogger pants, sneakers, and carrying around a ridiculously big kettlebell. "What? What's wrong?"

For a second, I'm distracted by the vision of her chiseled abs. Then, survival instinct kicks in, and I point a terrorized finger at the monster in my bed. "A bear!"

Alexandra's brows knit together. "Buster, heel."

The shaggy beast perks up its triangular ears and jumps from the bed to obey under my puzzled look. With its broad head, beady eyes, and black muzzle, it inspires me nothing but wariness.

Alexandra explains with a smirk, "It's an American Akita. But I'll admit this big oaf resembles a bear. Buster must like you. He usually stays away from strangers, especially males."

"I'm not a male. I'm a man." A pout curves my mouth down.

"Yes, I can see that." Her hazy gaze travels down my body and lingers on my unkempt blouse.

I cross my arms in an attempt at shielding myself. "Why is my shirt open? Did I... Did we..."

"What? No! I would never... Goddess. No."

I try not to be offended by the vehemence of her denial and, noticing we weren't in the tiny flat I share with my housemate, ask, "Where am I?"

"Brown Tower. I brought you here, then Mr. Landon tucked you in." Alexandra indicates the hallway behind her. "I slept in my room."

I let out a sigh of relief while my fingers work to refasten my top. "Who's Mr. Landon?"

"My housekeeper."

"You have a housekeeper?" Who the heck has house staff nowadays? Celebrities and rich snobs? I pause. "Where are we, again?"

Alexandra shifts her weight from one leg to another. "Brown Tower."

My breath hitches. "And what did you say your family name was?"

Her voice is soft, barely a whisper. "I didn't mention it."

Silence stretches between us, unraveling the distance that has always been here, but wasn't perceptible to me.

Alexandra Brown. CEO and chairwoman of Brown Incorporated, Canada's most prized holding company. Billionaire. Philanthropist. And notorious manizer, with a thing for long-legged, Mediterranean beauties.