The Super: A Bad Boy Romance

by Connor, Anne

  “Yeah, but I guess I missed this. I don’t really look at the real estate and finance stuff. You know I’m more interested in education. Local civics. That kind of thing. And anyway, I’m not interested in the unfortunate luck of some rich guys who might lose, like, a tenth of their wealth.”

  “Well, read up on these two. You might learn something.”

  She flashes a mischievous smile and her eyes sparkle as she looks at them over the top of her shot glass.

  4. Drew

  “She’s a bitch. Forget her. And we have more important things to worry about right now. Are you listening to me at all?”

  My brother looks up from his phone. He’s giving me a pep talk, trying to talk me into hating Clarissa, trying to get my head back into the game. But the only thing I can think about is sleazy Robert stealing my fiancee right out from under my nose.

  The crazy thing is that I was relieved, in a way, that the wedding was off, until I realized it was Robert’s doing. If Clarissa had come to the decision on her own, I would have stayed relieved. But throwing Robert into the mix is stirring up emotions that I know I have to tamp down.

  It isn’t worth getting mad over.

  I sip at my gin and tonic and crush an ice cube between my teeth.

  Fucking Robert Crandall.

  “I’m listening. Would you get off your phone? Let the attorneys handle it. You aren’t doing yourself any good reading the articles a million times. You’re just working yourself up. We had a successful meeting today. You’re the numbers guy. You’re the one who’s good at spotting trends. All those spreadsheets prove it. Leave the legal stuff to the legal guys.”

  The entire afternoon, after I was dumped during lunch, consisted of strategy meetings with the attorneys. We had come up with a good plan: fight the other firm tooth and nail for the rights to the land. Prove we had our stake in it first.

  I don’t want to lose this one. We’ve poured almost all of our capital into this deal, and even though we could just come to a compromise with the other firm, we decided to fight. There’s just too much risk involved in settling.

  I’m confident we will win.

  We have to win.

  “Okay. You’re right. Let’s just focus on why we came here.

  I scan the room. I know why my brother brought me here tonight. It’s to get my mind off Clarissa. It’s to move on from her, fast, and get my head clear.

  What he meant was that I need to have some pretty little thing with her stilettos digging into my back by the end of the night.

  That shouldn't be a problem. Before Clarissa, my love life consisted of a different woman every weekend. I was fine with it. I didn’t have time for a girlfriend, and Eric and I had to focus on getting our firm running.

  It’s the usual Friday night crowd. We’re no stranger to bars like this. Young women come here with the intention of going home with a guy in hopes that it’ll either lead to to something more and she’ll be set for life, or that it won’t lead to something more. In the case of the latter, I am sure some of these women have a pair of ballet flats tucked into their purse for the cab ride home tomorrow morning.

  Sometimes it really does lead to something more. One of my best friends from college met his wife here. What started as a one night stand - excuse me, it actually started as a quickie in the bathroom - ended up as a glorious relationship, complete with a honeymoon in St. Lucia.

  But those results are not typical. Most of the time, even the women who come here are only looking to have a few martinis and a roll in the bed of some numbers guy who doesn’t give a shit about anything except the dick in his pants and the money in his pocket.

  Who said true love is dead?

  It seems that the typical clientele is in full attendance tonight, decked out in the standard costumes - women in bandage dresses and sky-high heels, men in their sport coats and some in ties. Shiny, new shoes. Not a scuff mark in sight.

  My gaze lands on a pair of women in the corner, at a low booth by themselves. There aren’t any men with them, so I assume that their boyfriends are at the bar. I can't quite figure out another reason why there are no men hitting on them.

  They are both hot, but I’m instantly attracted to one of them. She’s slim but not skinny, with just a little bit of curve in all the right places. She has a fresh, smooth, natural face, and her hair is pulled back into a loose bun, with loose tendrils tucked behind her ears.

  I can see that she is here for a few drinks with her girlfriend, or maybe with her boyfriend who is just away from the table for a moment. She isn’t here for a drunken hookup. She’s here to have fun, but not that kind of fun.

  That shouldn’t be an obstacle for me.

  I’ll be tender with her, kiss her, and tell her how sweet and beautiful she is. Maybe she’ll be shy and coy and tell me the truth when I ask her if she goes home with strangers often. I can already tell that she doesn’t, by the way she’s carrying herself. She doesn’t have some ass-hugging dress on, and she isn’t curling her hips to the music and looking over her shoulder at me.

  I’ll treat her like the real lady she is, and tell her that she shouldn’t go home with strangers, because now I’m the only man for her.

  If that’s what she wants. Otherwise, if she has me and this whole bar fooled, I’ll fuck her fast and hard. I’d even let her suck me off in the cab on the way home. Or if she wants, I’d pull her into the men’s room, prop her ass up on the sink, lift her skirt up around her ass and lick her until she comes right there.

  If that’s what she wants.

  “Don’t you know it’s rude to stare? Were you raised by wolves? No, you were not. I happen to know who your parents are,” Eric interrupts my thoughts as he slips his phone into his pocket.

  “I’m not staring. What’s wrong with your phone? Finally broke your thumbs from all the emails and texts you’ve sent today?”

  “You are staring. See anything you like?”

  “Her.” I gesture with my drink to the woman in the corner booth.

  “Which one? The one who looks like she just came from a job interview or the hot one?”

  “What? They’re both hot. You’re unbelievable.”

  “No, you’re right. They are both hot. But one of them is dressed so...plain.”

  He’s right. That’s what I like about her.

  “I’m going to go talk to them.”

  “Suit yourself. I’ll be over here, laughing at you when their boyfriends come back.”

  “You know I have never had trouble picking up women.”

  “I don’t know. You’ve been out of the game for a while. You've probably lost some of your touch.”

  “No. Fuck that.”

  I pick up my drink from the bar and make my way over to the two ladies. Purposeful, driven. I want her, if only for the night. She is beautiful and cute. She is the opposite of Clarissa. She is the opposite of every woman I've ever been with.

  And I can’t wait to see what her pretty little mouth can do.

  5. Molly

  “Are you freaking kidding me? He’s coming over here. He must have caught you looking at him,” Jess says, checking her reflection in one of the distressed mirrors on the wall beside us.

  “What? Shoot! Oh, my God. This is so embarrassing.”

  “No, no. It’s not bad. It’s fine. It’s a good thing. You got his attention.”

  I look over my shoulder to see my chosen Anderson brother make his way across the bar to us.

  He looks even better up close. From just a few feet away, I can see that he has light, sparkling green eyes that I absolutely want to get lost in, and the scent of someone whose sheets I want to get tangled up in.

  And his suit looks expensive in its cut and how it fits him. The skinny tie, the way he buttons the middle button on the three-button blazer that hugs his broad back. Everything just looks like money. I bet his boxers are more expensive than my whole outfit.

  He is drop-dead, panty-meltingly hot.

  “Exc
use me, ladies. Are these seats taken?”

  “Nope! Why don’t you sit down?” Jess answers with a spring in her voice. It’s like the words bounce out of her mouth and into the air. I want to grab them and shove them under the table. The last thing I need is some rich guy’s superficial attention distracting me from my work all weekend.

  I jab Jess lightly in the ribs under the table. I hope the Anderson brother doesn’t see.

  He pulls out the chair across from Jess and sits down like he owns the damn chair. He’s broad and tall, and even seated, he has an effortlessly larger-than-life way about him, like he needs to scold women for staring at him all the time.

  I’m sure he catches women staring at him constantly.

  “I was wondering where your boyfriends were, and I wanted to come over and keep you company until they came back.”

  “No boyfriends here!”

  Jess waves her arms in the air to punctuate her response.

  “Oh? Well, where are they?” the Anderson brother looks around with a sarcastic, skeptical smirk on his face.

  Damn, this guy is good.

  “What I meant is that we don’t have boyfriends. They aren’t here or anywhere.”

  “Well, they’re somewhere. You just haven’t met them yet.” His nimble fingers hold a cocktail straw, spearing the tip of his tongue through slightly parted lips.

  Ugh. This? This is what I’m dealing with?

  “Sorry if you caught us looking at you. My friend and I didn’t mean to be rude,” I say. “But she knows who you are.”

  “Oh? Your friend knows who I am?”

  He shifts his gaze from me to Jess and then back to me.

  “And do you know who I am?”

  “I do now. You’re in real estate.”

  The Anderson brother laughs, a bent, mischievous smile growing on his face.

  “That might be true, but that’s not who I am. Hi.”

  He puts out his hand to shake mine. His eyes lock onto me and don't move, not even to my hands, which seem to be glued to the table.

  “I’m Drew Anderson. I won’t introduce myself to your friend, here, because she already knows who I am.” He looks over to Jess. “Don’t you?”

  A little knot of nerves uncurls in my stomach, releasing itself into my body, flooding me with the adrenaline that can only come when a dangerously hot guy introduces himself.

  When he takes his gaze off me it feels like a bandaid has been ripped off - painful for a second, and then soothed, like I know it has done its job.

  “Yes, that’s correct. I do know who you are, Drew Anderson. And that’s your brother, right over there.” She gestures with her glass. “That’s Eric.”

  “Correct. And since both of you know our names, would you care to share your names with me?”

  “I’m Jess. And this is my best friend, Molly.”

  “It’s very nice to meet you, Jess and Molly.”

  He rolls the bottom of his glass on the table, careful to not let his drink tip over the revolving edge. Every movement he makes is deliberate, measured and even. It’s excruciating to see his fingers roll along the edge of the glass.

  “So, I take it that you really don’t have boyfriends? You can’t, because if you did, they’d be here with you right now. They’d be stupid not to.”

  “Nope. No boyfriends. But don’t you have a girlfriend? Clarissa?”

  “Ex. We just broke up today.”

  “Aw. I’m sorry to hear that.”

  There seems to be genuine concern in her voice, but from the way she’s kicking me under the table, I know she wants me to talk to him. Or do more than talk.

  I was never one for a casual hookup, and I’m not sure I could entertain the possibility of dating some rich guy. Not my style. And besides, I don’t want someone aloof, someone born with a silver spoon in his mouth, someone who is used to having everything in life handed to him - a home, a girlfriend, money. I am sure this guy, judging from the way he talks and the way he dresses and the business he is in, is used to getting his way.

  Not for me. I already know it.

  “It’s okay. I already see someone who I like better.”

  His eyes lock onto me again, but this time, instead of focusing just on my eyes, his gaze lingers on my chest, my face, my hands and arms. Everything. I’m sure that if I had been standing up, he would have even checked out my feet.

  I’m right to not be interested. He’s a womanizer. Already over his ex, in one day? Ready to pick up another woman just a few hours later?

  But I can’t help what he’s doing to me. His eyes yank on a little piece of my insides. He’s so hot, and just my type physically. I would love to see him out in the light of day, without the thumping bass from the music and the blue and red lights of the club. Maybe he’s absolutely hideous in the daylight.

  “I was about to leave.” I stretch my arms in the air and let out a fake yawn. “I have to be up early tomorrow.”

  “Oh? Why is that?”

  “New job on Monday. Need to get some work done this weekend to prepare for it.”

  “Oh, Molly, don’t go. The night was just starting!” Jess whines.

  “Yeah, Molly. Stay with us. I promise I’ll get you home in time to work tomorrow. I’ll have you back at your house by eight tomorrow morning.” He spears an ice cube between his front teeth, teasing it with his tongue. “Even if I keep you up all night.”

  My mouth pops open in shock and a pool of heat grows deep inside my core. Why does he have to be so hot? And charming? It’s like he knows just what to say to get me riled up inside, and if anyone else had said those things to me, I might have considered letting him buy me a drink.

  It’s been long enough since I’ve had this kind of attention from a guy. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever had someone talk to me with language so dripping with innuendo in a public place before.

  “That’s fine. I’ve got to go.”

  I stand up and put my trench coat, slumped on the bench next to me, over my shoulders and onto my arms. It’s mid-May, but the weather means that most of the city is still wearing a coat. Jess isn’t wearing a coat tonight. Out of principle, she claimed. No one should have to wear a coat in May. But principle isn’t going to keep her warm. And anyway, I suspect she didn’t want to wear a coat because she didn’t want to cover up her tight dress.

  “I’m sorry you have to go, Molly. I was hoping to get to know you better.”

  This jackass leans down to whisper in my ear.

  “I think you’d like spending time with me. I could show you a thing or two. Things you’ve never seen. Things you’d be begging for if I stopped.”

  I pull away from him, even though I feel I could fall into his arms at any second. My insides are fluttering with excitement as his mouth breathes his words into my ear.

  It’s too bad that this guy is so not for me.

  “Well, maybe another time. Sorry. Jess, you can stay here if you’d like.”

  “No, it’s okay. I’d better get home, myself. Long week at the office.”

  “What do you do, Jess?”

  “I work at a law firm.” She puts a hand on her hip. “I’m a paralegal.”

  “I’m relieved. For a second I thought you were going to say you’re an attorney.”

  “Relieved?”

  “Yeah. I’m up to my eyeballs in attorneys right now.”

  “Yeah. The lawsuit. Good luck with that,” I say, incredulously.

  “Thank you very much, Molly. But I don’t need luck with that.” His green eyes penetrate mine. He must have picked up on my hint of sarcasm. “I have the best attorneys in the state working on the case.”

  “Well, then, good luck with your fiancee.”

  “Don’t need luck with that, either.”

  “Then it seems like you have absolutely everything in order. You have everything figured out.”

  “Not quite. I mean, I couldn’t get you to stay out tonight. Even with my promise of what I could give you.�
�

  God, he really is something else. I can’t take it. It must be some mistake. Why isn’t he talking to Jess, teasing Jess like this?

  Maybe he’s using reverse psychology on me. Yes. I read about that in a book once. Or maybe it was on TV. Maybe it was really Jess who he was interested in.

  But right in this moment, it feels like I’m the only one in the world he really wants to talk to.

  I swing the strap of my Longchamp tote bag over my shoulder. It’s heavy and I take care not to smack Drew with it, but maybe I should have let it just hit him.

  “Good night. It was nice to meet you.”

  I put my hand out in a professional gesture to say goodbye to him. I’ve done it so many times today - it feels like the natural thing to do.

  “It was nice to meet you, too. Maybe I’ll see you here another time.”

  His hand is soft and smooth, but firm, and his thumb slips over the inside of my wrist just for a split second as he pulls his hand away. I observe his face, studying it, as he says goodbye. His lip are full and soft, and I struggle to find some flaw so I can tell myself that I don’t like the way he looks.

  “Very nice to meet you,” Jess says, waving goodbye to him and scooting out from the booth behind me as I make my way from the table.

  I don’t look back. I want to, but I don’t. I squeeze my way through the crowd of people, women and men towering over me. The women, because they are all wearing heels, and the men, just because they are men.

  No one can hear me say excuse me over the loud music. I don’t think anyone would have been listening to me, anyway.

  “What the hell is wrong with you?” Jess rubs her arms and shoulders briskly as we step outside.

  “Here. Take my coat. I have my sweater.”

  “Thank you.”

  I think Jess figures that since we’re leaving anyway, it’s okay to cover herself up. It isn’t like she is going to meet her new boyfriend as we are leaving the club, or back in Brooklyn.

  “Let’s get a cab.”

  I’ve recently moved out of my parents’ house - finally, at 25, I’ve done it. I just received my Master’s in Journalism, I have my first paid job, and, accordingly, it was high time for me to have my first apartment.