“But you love me, and I have a present for you.”
“I’m listening.”
“I heard through the grapevine your ex is unemployed.” Karma is a bitch.
“That’s not a gift. I don’t care about that douche.” I’ve moved on. Over this month I saw my mistakes, and all that reflection only deepened my resolve to own my power. Never again will I let myself become unimportant.
“That was a test. I mean the facts are true, but I wanted to check because…”
“My love is beginning to wane if this is going where I think it is.”
“Listen to what I’m going to say.” Her voice becomes more serious. “You need to either start eating all your damn feelings or…” I know exactly where this is going.
“Shut up. I know what you’re going to say, Gretch. I’m not in the mood for the one hundredth lecture on this topic.”
Ignoring me completely, she continues.
“Orrrr go and find the sexy Mr. King and put your lady parts out of their misery.” As soon as she says it, I growl out a mini scream and bang the phone down on the desk twice, hoping it hurts her ears.
Putting the receiver back to my ear, I smooth my hand over my desk and clear my throat. “Gretchen, stop bugging me about this. I told you I will take care of that little issue when I’m ready. I’m not ready.”
“When’s that?” I hate her.
“When’s what?” I can feel myself walking right into her trap.
“When are you going to be ready? When your vagina has revirginized? You had this amazing night and came back all riled up and ready to find your fucking dream man. Your words, Drew: ‘Dream man.’ And now all you do is Google search him and obsess. There aren’t enough batteries in the world.”
“I’ll kill you. I’m actually going to kill you.”
Her laughter starts again. “You’d commit a felony before facing rejection. Solid choice, friend.” I’m happy we’re on the phone because she would celebrate her victory if she could see my grin over her accuracy, but she doesn’t understand the risk.
“That ship has sailed. As much as I bought into the idea he was selling, I’ve waited too long now. I can’t just email him or call him now. I need to let it go, and you need to let me. He’s too dangerous.” Dangerous in every sense of the word. Dominic King could destroy me.
“Bullshit. You can’t push love away because it’s complicated and messy, Drew.”
Why does she have to know me so well?
“I’m not pushing it away. I’m just postponing it until a more convenient time. He’s stronger than I am. I’ll get lost in him. Completely fucking lost.” Sighing, I put my arm on my desk and rest my head on it.
“Ah, okay…so in the meantime, you’re what? Gonna buy some cats and go to Costco for batteries?” I can hear her nails clicking the keyboard like some evil gargoyle.
“Cats? Really? Why are we friends? You’re fired.” Sitting up, I bark out a laugh.
“Yeah, good luck with that one. My work here is done. I’ll just tell HR you made death threats against me. Listen to me…”
Her phone muffles and I can hear her talking to someone else, though I can’t make out anything she’s saying. She comes back on the line with a deep breath. Uh-oh, something’s up.
“Whoa, what’s up?”
“Sorry, Drew, let me ring you back. Fires to put out…”
“Gotcha.” Hanging up, I look down at my desk littered with paperwork and try to keep my mind from wandering, but it inevitably drifts to her lecture. She’s right; we both know it, but too much time has passed now. How the hell do you just call someone and say, “Hey, remember me? I think we’re meant for each other. Sorry I deserted you and left you standing on an airstrip.” Even saying it to myself, I know that isn’t the whole truth.
If I know him, like I believe I do, the real problem isn’t going to be that I waited. The problem is going to be that I hesitated. I know he won’t look for me; he said as much. He also said he wouldn’t forgive me. I’m scared he’s telling the truth. My night with him will forever be a ‘once in a lifetime’ event unless I make the next move, but I’m afraid. I knew him for twenty-four hours, and I still can’t scrub my mind clean of him after one month. The future seems dim.
The rest of my afternoon flies by less any more foul-ups, and by the time my assistant Boyd ducks his head in to say goodbye, I realize the sun has gone down.
“Thanks, Boyd. Good night.”
“Good night, Ms. Matthews. I’ve updated your calendar, but I apologize. I requested the information about a morning meeting with Ms. Andrews, but she told me she would handle it personally.”
“Oh, okay, don’t worry about it. Have a nice night.” She probably wants to hassle me more over breakfast. At least I can get a mimosa.
Packing up my laptop case, I shoot a quick text to Gretch asking her about our “meeting” and lean across my desk to turn off my monitors. I pause as I look at the screen, gnawing at my bottom lip like an addict because that’s what I am. My fingers hit the keys, and I’m bombarded with images of the man I’m obsessed with.
Flashes of our night together infiltrate my mind, causing my body to heat up, and I reach up to pull my hair over my shoulder. Closing my eyes, I remember that small action when he moved my hair to expose my neck. The feel of his lips moving against my throat, his words breathed into my skin, leaving me branded by his lust. Licking my lips slowly, I lay my head back on my chair and remember the feel of his body and the grip of his hands against my skin. I can still taste his climax on my lips. Before I know what I’m doing, my hand begins moving up my thigh, pulling my black silk skirt with it. Seeing him standing over me, my legs part for him, and I can almost feel the brush of his fingertips tracing my inner thigh. “Tell me what your body wants,” he growls. My breath is coming in pants as the anticipation of his touch clouds my judgment, and I reach for my swollen center.
I’m jolted out of my fantasy by a knock at the office door, hitting the top of my hand on the underside of my desk in the process.
“Shit! Ow—yes, sorry, come in…” My voice is high and shaky.
Boyd peeks around the door again. “Sorry to bother you, erm, but I forgot to confirm my early leave tomorrow. My mom is having a dinner for my dad’s retirement.” His face is expectant, as if he’s hoping I remember whatever the hell he’s talking about. Right now, he could say he was leaving early to pick blueberries and I wouldn’t care because I’ve never felt so embarrassed.
Hoping my cheeks aren’t as red as I expect them to be, I keep my tone clipped. “Sounds fine. No problem.” Putting my head down, I try and keep the focus on the computer screen. I would rather him think I’m a jerk instead of realizing I almost just masturbated in my office.
What’s happening? I need an intervention. I’m masturbating to screenshots of a man that I ran out on. I should be googling a twelve-step program based on Dominic King instead of indulging in any more fantasies.
“Get the fuck off my back, Luca. I don’t need any more shit from you.” I hate when he thinks he needs to fix me.
“Yes, you do, Dom. You’ve been an asshole for the last month. I don’t care what you need to do, but if it takes fucking half of Chicago, I’d help make that happen. I’m just happy you’re working from home today. Everyone hates you here.” His laugh makes my eyes roll. He loves being the favorite.
“Fuck everyone. I happen to like working from home. I get to wear basketball shorts into my office.” Chuckling, I blow off his comment.
“You’re missing the point, Dom…”
“Enough. I don’t want to fuck half of Chicago. I have no interest in a relationship of any kind right now. I’m focused on work.” Work and her. If he knew just how far down the rabbit hole I’ve fallen, this conversation would be an intervention.
“I knew it!” I shouldn’t have even thought it.
“Knew what, ya lunatic?” Gripping the receiver, I secretly wish it was his neck.
“Kne
w that you are still hung up on her. Admit it: ever since you met that chick, your head hasn’t been screwed on tight.”
“Don’t call her a chick. She’s a grown woman, and it has nothing to do with her.” The end.
“Just get one of the guys to track her down.” Already done.
“Life isn’t as simple as that—”
He cuts me off before I can finish. “Wow, I never thought I’d see the day when Dominic King was afraid of someone.” Nail meet head. Drew Matthews has me shaking in my boots.
“Fuck off. Are you done, little brother? Can I go back to grown-up business now?” He hates when I call him the little brother. I love it.
“Little by minutes, you dick. And stop deflecting. I’ve never seen you hung up on a chick…er, I mean, woman like this before. She must have a golden pussy.” What the fuck?
“Watch your fucking mouth, or I’ll break your jaw.” I couldn’t be more serious, and it wouldn’t be the first time Luca and I have gone to blows.
“Holy shit, ladies and gentlemen. Dom is sprung…” Clearly unfazed by my warning, he laughs louder than necessary.
“Jesus! Luca, I don’t have time for this shit. Can we get back to business? I have a two-o’clock call that I won’t postpone for love advice with Dr. Luca King.”
“Wow, interesting that you went right to the word love.” He never stops.
“For fuck’s sake. I’m hanging up.” Slamming my receiver down harder than necessary, I lean back in my chair and rest my head back, stretching it from side to side to help relieve the tension and ignore my cell buzzing. Fuck, why did I have to say love. People don’t fall in love in twenty-four hours.
I’m sure it’s a text from Luca. His intuition is spot-on—it’s the twin thing, but he never knows when to give up. We may be identical, but we couldn’t be more different. But I can’t explain this to him. I made sure he would have the life our parents wanted for us, but it wasn’t without sacrifice. I wouldn’t do a damn thing differently, but unlike our faces, our lives could never be identical. He’s got a wife and a kid and a life I don’t envy, except when I think about her. With her, all the rules change. It’s the one thing that scares the shit out of me. It may have only been one night, but I just can’t seem to shake her hold on me. I fell for a girl I can’t have; it’s as if I got to see into a crystal ball, a beautiful glimpse into what life should feel like and be like, and now I can’t go back.
Standing from my mahogany desk, I walk out of my office and into the kitchen to grab some water. I gulp it down, then place it on the counter. I absent-mindedly run my hand over the granite countertop, remembering her sitting and eating a slice of pizza as I spoke about my mother. It was the first time I’d really spoken about her to anyone outside of my brother, but it felt natural, normal. That feeling guts me. I wanted her to know my mother, even if it was in some small way. Drew became important to me in one miraculous night, and now the memories haunt me.
Shaking my head, I try and remind myself it was just a one-night stand. Nothing more. I know I’m lying to myself—we had a connection; it was more than attraction and sex. She walked away and took every ounce of me with her. I’m bound to this gorgeous woman, and my heart refuses to fucking let go. I told her I wouldn’t chase her, I wouldn’t go after her if she ran, but now I wish I had because I’ve been sitting here waiting to be found. She makes me weak, vulnerable, and those are two feelings I am not acquainted with. I hate the stench of need. I’m like a lust-starved Oliver Twist, and she’s what I want more of.
So, I sit here in my empty house and pay people to bring me information on her while I figure out what the fuck to do about this, about her. Fuck, my life is spiraling. I need a drink. Scratch that—I need a priest to exorcize Drew Matthews from my body. I need to pack my shit and go back home, just let her go, let go of her smart-ass attitude and sharp-as-a-knife wit. Let go of her luscious mouth and all the dirty things I did to it. Let go of the memory of her nails down my back etched into my mind while her legs wrapped themselves around my body. Fuck!
Pushing off the counter, I grab another bottle of water and head toward my home gym. Today feels like a punching-bag day. I find myself there a lot lately; a man can only jack off so much.
With every hit of the bag, I feel my frustration raise. She was more.
Smack, smack smack. More than sex.
Thrusting upward, I barrel into the bag, making it jump. She was a promise.
My head drips sweat, and my muscles want to give in, but I unleash all my fury out onto the bag until I’m spent, huddled over and breathless. She became a broken promise when she hesitated.
I was all in. I gave myself to her, and I don’t do that, ever. It doesn’t matter that I knew her for twenty-four hours; I touched an angel and fell from heaven. I feel like the devil because now all I want is to erase her, but I refuse to forget. I don’t know how to walk away, but I won’t beg. I want her bound at my feet as payment for her faithless decision.
I want to hate her, but what I hate is how much of me belongs to her.
Reaching my arm over my shoulder, I grip the back of my shirt and draw it over my head, using it to wipe my forehead before tossing it aside. I want to punish her, punish her for walking away, so I hit the bag harder and harder until I can feel the bruising under my wrapped hands start to throb, giving me something to focus on instead of the bruise to my heart. Fuck, I’m weak for this woman.
LYING AWAKE IN MY BED after leaving the office, I’m nowhere near being tired. Rolling to my side, I throw off my sheet and sit upright in my king bed. I’m so thankful to be back in my place after moving in with Nick. I lean over and grab my cell off the bedside table and type out a quick text to Gretchen to confirm my suspicions for our “meeting” tomorrow.
Me: Hey—by meeting do you mean brunch and mimosas?
Gretchen: Duh, we’ve earned it. This week has been hell and I think we can have a secret meeting without anyone suspecting we are just being alcoholic slackers.
Me: Agreed. Where?
I stand as the bubbles pop up and go away and then pop up again. If she is winging it, I’m going to be irritated. Trying to get a reservation is impossible same day in this city. I start to pace, waiting for her response.
Gretchen: I’ll pick you up on the way.
Me: Do you have a reservation? Because you know it’s impossible to snag a good place tomorrow.
Gretchen: Yes mom, I do. Go use your batteries.
Me: Asshole… Listen, I have to go in for a few things, so pick me up at our building, downstairs. Just text me when you’re ten out.
Gretchen: Yep, got it.
My whole body is revved up, and I need to expend this energy. My eyes drift over to my laptop, and I squeeze them shut. No way in hell. I’m breaking this little habit of mine. Instead, I throw on my workout clothes and some sneakers and head out to a late-night gym to run off my sexual frustration.
When I get back home, it’s a little past ten and I’m spent. I don’t even bother to shower. Instead, I crawl into my bed after toeing off my shoes and let myself drift to sleep.
My alarm jolts me awake, and I shoot out of bed, remembering I need to shower from my sweaty mess last night. I run the water and check my early-morning messages, sending back a few texts before I jump in. The water feels like silk, and I let it wash over my face like a baptism. This is a baptism; I’m renewed in my belief. The belief that I will not think about Dominic King, today or ever again. Today, I’m really letting him go.
I wash, rinse, and dry off. Wrapping a towel around my head, I get to the business of my makeup because today I am going to look good. I’m a brand-new me, and I am going to be open to everything the universe brings my way. Shaking my hair loose, I blow-dry, allowing my natural waves to set and cascade down my back. I highlight my eyes with a black mascara and apply a gorgeous perfect red stain to my lips. I feel like a glamorous French actress with doe eyes and just enough pout to be adorable and sexy.
Looking a
t my phone, I only have twenty minutes to put some clothes on and hightail it out of my place, so I hustle into my closet to grab my favorite all-white shirt dress. It’s silk and clings to my body in the most perfect way, accentuating my curves. I wrap a long, printed scarf around my waist as a belt, then throw on my strappy Louboutins and head for my door, phone in hand, stopping only to grab my clutch and keys.
Thank god for my sunnies because the daylight is jarring as I exit my building to hail a cab. No need to take my car today since Gretchen is picking me up. Jumping in, I give him the building address, and we head downtown and make small talk. At least we try because I’m taken away from conversation with emails I need to return. Even though my office is close by, I give the cabbie a twenty, no change needed, and make my way up.
Every time I walk into this building, I fall in love more with its sleek glass walls and iron beaming that accentuate the curves of the architecture like some kind of iron maiden. She’s a beautiful place to be every day. I work on the top floor; our space is shared only with a law firm on the opposite side. I take the elevators up to the fortieth floor and nod to the front desk girl as I make my way through the cubicles.
Rounding a corner, I see Boyd already sitting at the desk that precedes my office. “Good morning.”
“Good morning, Ms. Matthews. Your coffee is on your desk, and I’m sorry, but Ms. Andrews was here earlier…she wouldn’t take no for an answer.”
My face scrunches in confusion as I walk past him and open my door.
Cats.
That’s all I see on my desk. Fucking bobblehead cats. At least twenty are scattered along my desk, all set out and looking at me with their big eyes and black frames, the kind reserved for Chinese restaurants and gift stores.
Fucking Gretchen! I drop my head down and laugh. I’m officially a cat lady.
Walking back out to Boyd’s desk, I raise an eyebrow for explanation.
“She said you were really into cats and she was trying to surprise you with the figurines. I’ve learned that Ms. Andrews always has a plan and I am not, repeat not, allowed to derail that plan.”
Truth: A Sinful Series, Book One Page 12