Chapter 14
Ian
The ray of sunlight that shone in through the window didn’t even bother me. I looked over at my clock.
10:30 a.m.
Holy shit. I had actually slept — and I’d slept well at that.
I smiled as images of Kate came rushing to my mind. Then I remembered I had been dreaming about her.
I yawned and closed my eyes again. I took a deep breath, relishing the fact that it was Sunday. For once, I didn’t have to do anything even remotely resembling work.
Sunday. I grinned. I had actually gotten through another week of work.
For the first Sunday in what felt like fucking ages, the day was mine. All fucking mine.
At that moment, it felt like the world was my oyster. Because I — for what seemed like for the first time in forever — knew exactly what it was that I wanted to do.
I was going to laze around in my underwear. All day. I was going to drink tons and tons of coffee. And I was going to read the Sunday Times.
I laughed and extended my arms out to look at them, and then shifted my eyes to my bare stomach. "I'm going to fucking work out."
God knew I needed it. "Maybe even a protein shake for lunch."
I had it all planned.
And after all that, I was going to nap.
My eyes fell to look at the en suite bathroom at the other side of the bedroom. I couldn’t help but wonder if I should put the energy into actually taking a shower. The walk seemed too far to muster and in all honesty, it wasn't something that really had to be done.
It was the weekend, and I sure as hell didn’t plan on seeing anyone…although I wouldn’t mind seeing Kate at some point. Today, though, I’d take some much needed time to just veg. Today was definitely going to be a lazy day.
I climbed out of bed, my back still stiff from sleep. My deep, restful sleep. I must have slept hard. I stretched my arms above my head, stretching my back for all that it was worth and twisted to the side. A shitload of cracks sounded and rolled up my spine as I turned. “Fuck yeah,” I moaned, almost sexually. That felt amazing.
It also felt so fucking good not to have to worry about work.
Yesterday I had done enough worrying. Hell, all week I had done enough worrying. It was enough worrying to last a lifetime, let alone a week.
All the worrying was starting to give me a migraine, and I was pretty sure the five gray hairs I found sprinkled through my hair last night were directly correlated to work stress.
The worst part was that work had seeped into my time with Kate. Everything about yesterday had been wonderful until my head of research had called and interrupted our date.
I was informed that my damn weasel of a Vice President, that dickhead Jerome Pfeiffer, was trying to make me look bad. Not that I was surprised by that. He always wanted to make me look like an idiot. But this time, he had really pissed me off.
He was making it look like I was the one who’d stolen the blood imaging technology from BioResearch — when I clearly hadn’t. Why the hell would I put myself through the piercing fucking headache of a lawsuit if I had done it? We had plenty of tech—we didn’t need to steal theirs. And the truth was, I believed my dad. If he said BioResearch stole it from us, then by God, they stole it. When he said it was our research all along, then it was our research all along.
I was sick of the Cross name being dragged through the shit.
There was no way in hell that I was going to allow Pfeiffer to ruin me. I still hadn’t figured out what I was going to do about him, but I wasn’t going to think about it. Not today. I wasn’t going to let it get me down. I was going to enjoy my Sunday. And the first thing I needed was sitting in a small jar in the kitchen. Coffee. Lots of it.
My feet slapped roughly against the heated floor as I raced toward the kitchen. It was my favorite room in the entire penthouse, yet probably the one I used the least. It was large, with shiny stainless steel appliances — gorgeous to look at, but too pristine, almost like something out of a catalog.
Same with my white cabinets, and marble countertops — which reached all around the kitchen. They were gorgeous, but they were bare except for some expensive dishes my dad had stocked the shelves with. In the center of the room was a large dark wood butcher’s block. Which also was never used. Hell, there wasn’t even any real food in my place, I was pretty sure. I had a few protein bars that I had stuffed into a cupboard weeks ago, but that was pretty much it.
I wasn’t sure if there ever had been food in this place, even when Dad was alive.
I didn’t usually notice the lack of food because I was never home to cook. But unfortunately, no food in the house meant that I couldn’t lazily eat and lounge around on that rare occasion that I was off, not unless I ordered take-out.
I sighed, taking a look at my stomach. The muscles were still there, but I had lost so much definition. I remembered a time when I actually cared about the food that went into my body. Hell, I remembered a time when I obsessed about the food I fueled my body with.
Not that I’d do much better with my food choices today. I wanted to sit around and eat junk. There was something about sipping coffee early in the morning, working out, and then cracking open a beer and cooking weird shit. I really enjoyed that kind of day, that kind of cooking. It was something I had always enjoyed. To me, it was a good way to unwind.
Before taking on the role of CEO, I used to have most weekends off, and those were my cheat days. Those were my days to eat like a pig. But that wouldn’t be happening — not only because I had eaten out every day this past week, but because I was almost positive that I didn’t even have milk or eggs in the fridge. If I did, they were surely long expired by now.
I couldn’t remember the last time that I’d gone grocery shopping.
My stomach grumbled and rolled almost angrily as I thought about food. I really was hungry…but first things first.
Coffee.
I walked over to the coffee pot where it stood just beside the refrigerator. As I scooped the grounds, I smelled a ridiculously pungent smell wafting from my pits. Fuck. Maybe I did need a shower.
I started the coffee and made my way back to my bedroom and through to the bathroom.
As I lathered shampoo in my hair, I heard music begin to ring out. The beat was loud as it blared and echoed throughout the bathroom. It was catchy, and it was a song I knew by heart. But it was one I hadn’t heard in a while…a long while.
It was a small indie number that I’d first heard at a local festival with my ex-girlfriend. I began singing along with the words, almost absentmindedly, in probably the most tone-deaf way imaginable. But that didn’t matter. I was into it.
I loved that song…
I stopped abruptly, finally realizing that music didn’t just start playing randomly on its own. This song meant only one thing…
I popped my head out of the shower just as the music stopped.
I sighed and wished more than anything — as I rinsed my body of the suds — for there to be some sort of supernatural reason for that song to start blaring. I hit my forehead against the shower in dread. Did I even want to get out of the damn shower now? Did I want to find out?
Fuck. I knew what I had to do.
I yanked the lever to shut the water off. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I groaned, growing even more annoyed at the situation.
What did she want?
I grabbed a towel and wrapped it around my waist, not even bothering to dry off. I wasn’t in a rush, except I wanted to get this over with as soon as possible, and get back to my lazy Sunday.
I glanced at the mirror as I made my way out of the door and stopped for a minute to look more closely. My stubble was jutting out in all sorts of directions. I kind of liked it. I smiled at myself a bit. Yep. I was leaving it. It was fucking Sunday. I’d leave the shaving to tomorrow.
Today was all mine. Well, mine and hers for just a few short minutes. That was all I would spare her.
I tightened the towel around my waist and shuffled toward my nightstand, where my phone was still charging. I looked at it for a second and watched as droplets fell from my hair to the cherry wood bedside table.
A missed call, and a text message.
A fucking text message. Thank fuck she hadn’t left me a voicemail, so at least I wouldn’t have to hear her speak.
I was scared of the text, though. Like it was a rattlesnake, rattling its tail to warn me to back the fuck off or it was going to strike.
I took an angry, deep breath and grabbed the phone, yanking it away from the charger. I clicked the display on, and there it was, a text from the worst woman in the world: Amelia. My crazy, stone-cold terror of an ex-girlfriend.
I laughed out loud. She was asking me out for a brunch date.
I blew out a large huff of breath and dramatically plopped onto my bed so that I was lying down. I eyed the message, reading it over and over again. I hoped all that I could hope that it would somehow change, that the texting gods would somehow erase it from my phone and make me forget it ever happened.
Of course, they didn’t — and it was still there, staring me right in the face. I knew better than not to respond.
Hating this turn of fate, I tapped out a few words, agreeing to meet her.
It wasn’t because I remotely missed anything about her; it was for one reason, and one reason only: she was still one of the lawyers on Bio-Research’s team, and it couldn’t hurt to stay in her good graces. Knowing her, in fact, it was probably way more beneficial than being in her bad graces, and that was because, straight up, Amelia was crazy.
After I hit send, I tossed the phone next to my pillow and looked up at the ceiling. I let my mind wander. I needed to calm down and to let my mind drift. I needed it to pull away from any and all thoughts of Amelia until it was time to go.
My thoughts drifted so far that it was almost like I was dreaming. Dreaming about Kate.
Part of me wished the day was just a normal working weekday. That way it would have been Kate that I was meeting up with as part of my morning routine, rather than Sunday brunch with a woman I still resented.
I inhaled, pretending that my lips were pressed against Kate’s red hair. It was almost like Kate was here with me.
It was like I could feel her, smell her…almost as if I could just extend my arm out next to me and fucking touch her.
She was torturing me, but in the best way imaginable.
She was different.
She was special.
I couldn’t help but think about Kate the entire way to the restaurant Amelia had chosen for us.
Amelia wanted to meet at a posh downtown restaurant — one that I used to love frequenting but rarely did anymore. I just didn’t have the time. Plus, Amelia was the one who’d introduced me to it, and I didn’t want to risk running into her there.
It was a swanky little spot with the best ravioli that I had ever had. But it was small — and because it was so damn good, it was almost impossible to get a seat.
But Amelia was Amelia, and she could get us in anywhere, even on a busy Sunday.
Amelia was always good at that — hell, I’d venture to say that she was even better than I was at the art of persuasion, and I used to think myself quite the master.
Resigning myself to the inevitable, I got ready to go.
With a jolt of energy and a lot of newfound courage — mostly thanks to a couple swigs from a bottle of Jack that I’d found hidden underneath my bed — I walked through the front door of the restaurant. My gaze met the hostess’s, but only for a second. Almost immediately after capturing the hostess’s eye, I caught a glimpse of Amelia.
She was sitting in the small lounge area just off of the entrance, sipping a mimosa while playing what looked like a dumb puzzle game on her phone. And as much as I hated to admit it, she still looked really good.
She always would, though, I was sure. She’d probably always look like a twenty-year-old. Forever in her prime.
I smirked as I made my way toward the small, intimate table she sat out. I had to admit, when we first broke up, a part of me really hoped she’d all of a sudden grow ugly. And I didn’t mean just run of the mill ugly…I’d hoped for boils, hives, moles, warts, and many, many deformities — all together, combined. I wanted her to look like a witch that had just been dipped into some sort of acid. Now that I looked back on it, I’d been demented to even think about it. Still, I’d known that it would never really happen, not that it would matter anyway.
Thankfully, now I was over her, and her looks did absolutely nothing to me.
Her long, golden blond hair looked silky smooth to the touch and lay over her shoulders in loose curls. And her blue eyes contrasted almost perfectly against her strangely bronzed skin. Fuck, it was New York — who the hell could be tan and live in New York? Especially in the winter?
I sighed. She was still as sexy as ever, even though it was artificial. It was her trademark, and she sure as hell used it. Every-fucking-where she went. Her seductive mien was hers, and she owned it. Other women may have claimed to have it, but Amelia really did.
I had been with models — women who forged their entire livelihood on having pretty faces — but Amelia was still better at getting what she wanted.
She used it to her advantage — and I had never seen anyone not fall for it.
I used to love her sex appeal. I used to love that everyone in the room stopped to look at the woman I was with. It wasn’t that I’d needed the confidence or ego boost. It was just that I’d enjoyed having a woman that people deemed my equal. A woman who men wanted and women wanted to be.
It sounded shallow, and it that’s because it was. But in my defense, I had come a long way since then. Although not that much time had passed, I had changed. I wasn’t really the guy that fell for Amelia anymore, even though it was painfully obvious she still wanted me to be.
I’d always had a bit of a reckless side. Before my responsibilities at MTS, I was the best example of a cliché. A rich and reckless asshole with a thirst for women and nice things.
I mean, really. Take one rich, over-privileged guy. Add in a bitchy bombshell of a girlfriend and we had the makings for a fine asshole.
That was exactly what I’d been like when I’d dated Amelia.
Now, though, I wasn’t wrapped around her finger like every other person in the world seemed to be. Sure, when we’d first met, there was heat—a lot of fucking heat. It was attraction in a purely sexual sense, and at very first sight.
For a while, at the beginning of our relationship, there wasn’t a single day that her clothes would stay on her body. I’d been crazy ravenous for her.
It had helped that she was smart. Not a lot of women as beautiful as her had bothered to hone their minds as well as their bodies, but damn it all, Amelia totally had.
Sometimes, though, even when we’d been dating, I found myself wishing that she wasn’t so smart. I found myself wishing that she had just been another one of the many airheads I met at the bar. Because if she hadn’t given me any sort of substance, I would have never kept her around for longer than one night.
And that would have saved me a lot of trouble — and a whole lot of disappointment.
Looking back, I could see why she wasn’t the one for me. But damn, it had been a fun ride. And not only that but maybe, for the guy I’d been when we were together, maybe she had been perfect for me. But now, things were different — and as soon as they became different, I’d quickly realized she wasn’t right. She wasn’t good. She wasn’t kind. And she sure as hell wasn’t equal to me like I’d superficially thought that she was.
Meeting Amelia hadn’t been anything like when I met Kate.
Hell, ever since I met Kate, I couldn’t get her out of my head. She was always there. I didn’t know what the two of us might have — or if we had anything at all. For all I knew, I could just be a cheap thrill while she waited to go to San Diego and start her teaching job.
I hoped that wasn’t the case because she didn’t seem like that type of woman, but I couldn’t help but wonder if we had a future as anything more than friends. Because dammit, I really liked her.
The creak of the chair brought my thoughts to the present as Amelia leaned back, a coy smile on her face. It was like she was waiting for me to start the conversation. For probably the first time in my life, I didn’t have anything to say. Unlike her, I felt like everything that needed to be said had already been said and anything that needed to be done had already been done. I had my closure, and I wasn’t looking for anything more. Not from her. So I sat down in front of her and waited.
“So, you just sit down and don’t say anything?” She raised a single, perfectly shaped eyebrow.
“Well, I thought you’d stand to greet me and then let me know why it was that you wanted to meet here today.” I wasn’t about to play her game.
“Well,” she huffed. “Come here, you.” She was like an obnoxious aunt who didn’t know when to quit. She came over to my side of the table and looped her arms around my neck and then kissed my cheek.
She angled gently pushed my head down, providing me with a view directly into her cleavage.
“It’s really good to see you,” she whispered in my ear as she leaned her head down.
“Thanks,” I grunted. “Now let me go.”
She let me go, and her eyes were glazed over with something that I hadn’t seen on her face in a long time…
Lust.
She bit her lips and licked them just before turning slowly away from me. Her hips swayed, probably intentionally, as she went back to the other side of the small table and I watched, amazed at how obvious it all seemed. Nothing Amelia did was ever by accident. Every movement her body made was calculated for some self-serving end.
“So, how are things?” She smiled coyly, almost like she was innocent.
I knew otherwise. I knew what she was trying to do. She was trying to wrap me around her finger once again — but that wasn’t going to happen. Not in that moment, or any other moment to come. “Things are good.”
To me, this wasn’t a personal visit. It was business. I wanted to be as cold and unattached as possible.
Amelia’s attention was already on her phone. This was so different from yesterday’s date with Kate. Kate was probably the sweetest person I had ever met, and she’d barely even glanced at the menu because we’d only had eyes for each other. Until my work call, I hadn’t even seen a phone on our table. It felt like Kate was from another universe. How the hell could someone so kind, so genuine, be living in New York City?
“Sir,” a man’s voice said, shaking me back to reality. He laid a plate of Eggs Benedict directly in front of me. My favorite. But I hadn’t had a chance to order yet.
“Sorry,” I said to the waiter, “but there must be a mistake—”
“I ordered for you,” Amelia piped up as the waiter set a plate in front of her.
“Your drinks,” the waiter said, just before placing a mimosa in front of each of us.
“Keep them coming,” she said with a giggle and handed him a folded twenty.
Well, at least I was getting a decent meal out of this unfortunate brunch. But I couldn’t help but wonder why she’d invited me to this thing. I really hoped it wasn’t what I thought it was for. If it was a hook-up, I was not available or even interested.
Her subtle actions, though, told me that I might have been right. There was something there — in the tone of every word, behind every single one of the looks she flashed me.
But I still hoped this wasn’t about sex. Even the thought of kissing those luscious and moist lips made me cringe. They were sexy, and she licked them seductively to make them glisten even more. The action didn’t turn me on, though; it did the complete opposite.
I felt vaguely queasy, and I worried I wouldn’t be able to eat my Eggs Benedict.
“You know, I miss you,” she said, and my eyes immediately rolled to the back of my head.
My worst fears were coming true. She did want what I thought she wanted.
I knew that look. That stupid, flirty look. It was the look that had first trapped me in the beginning. It was the look I’d grown to despise when I saw her flirt time and time again, man after man, as she tried to get her way.
I thought that was all she knew. Flirt with some desperate guy; if he had something to give, he’d give it.
My time with her hadn’t been all bad. Not always. But it got bad pretty fast.
I remembered seeing the same look that she was giving me now when she’d first met my dad, and again when she first met the Murphys. Both of them. It was a seductive one. One that said, ‘if you do what I want, I can be yours.’ She was a human succubus if I’d ever seen one.
She wasn’t interested. Not in any of them — at least, I didn’t think. She just gave them the look they all craved. The look of being wanted. And she only gave it to them so that they could give her a leg up; she never bothered with men that couldn’t.
So I knew, as soon as I saw those eyes narrow and square in on me, what she was doing. When she licked her lips, subtly for most, but not for me. To me, it stuck out. Everything she did stuck out. It was all predictable, and none of it was surprising.
She even used her words to sound as sultry as possible and to plant the seed of seduction.
But I wasn’t my dad, and I wasn’t the Murphys, and I sure as hell wasn’t some poor rich fool she could run over anymore. I’d seen Amelia’s true colors. I’d seen her work my dad, right in front of me, after we broke up. To rub her cleavage pretty much all over him and whisper in his ear that he needed to give up on the lawsuit.
‘Hard-on-for-days’ was what he called her behind her back. He’d known her game, too. But I wasn’t sure he wouldn’t have fallen for it if it hadn’t been for me.
“Did you hear me?” she asked, shaking me from my thoughts. “I miss you.”
“Oh, yeah?” I humored her, just before taking my first bite of food. Damn if I’d let her ruin my good breakfast.
“I’m not really sure why we didn’t work out,” she sighed, taking a small sip of her mimosa.
“Because you’re a cold-hearted asshole who disparaged my father?” I cut into my Eggs Benedict again and shoved the bite into my mouth. I was purposely careless in my actions. I wanted her to know how much of a bitch I really thought she was.
“Your father stole that imaging technology, Ian,” she said. “That’s what I told you when I took the case and joined their legal team. I wanted to be on the winning side.”
“Yeah, you mean after I basically tortured it out of you to tell me if you were so much as considering taking on the Murphys as clients?”
She didn’t say anything, though. We’d already had the conversation. I just wanted to jab as much as I could, and maybe even a part of me wanted to believe that there was something human about her — that she’d somehow, someway, be able to show even the teeniest bit of emotion about something.
But that probably would never happen. She was a lawyer and a cold-hearted bitch. Those two things usually meant no emotions would ever be shown, even if they were felt.
Her looks hadn’t changed, but the way that I looked at her definitely had.
If someone had told me that I’d feel disgusted when looking at someone so aesthetically beautiful just a year ago, I would have laughed in their face. Especially since I really had cared about Amelia, once upon a time.
If anyone asked me to describe her, I would say was that she was a tempting seductress. That’s all she was. She had very little other substance. She was smart, sure — but her tempting side more than surpassed her intelligence.
But admitting that to myself didn’t mean that I wanted her physically. I had to stay strong in that regard. Because no matter how good she looked on the outside — no matter how sexy she was on the surface — deep down, she was as stone cold as they came.
“Anyway,” she said, “I texted you to come because I was hoping that we could discuss the lawsuit.”
“Why?” I asked. I couldn’t decide if I was relieved or not. At least she didn’t want to get back together, but talking about business? I’d thought I was free of MTS and BioResearch for at least today. Just today to forget about work—that was all I’d wanted.
“Why?” She laughed. “Because this is costing everyone a lot of money and it’s silly. Just drop the case.”
“I’m not dropping the case.” I could only hope that my voice was firm enough this time because clearly, it hadn’t been the fifteen other times I said it when Bio-Research asked.
“Why are you being so stubborn on this?” She glared at me, clearly growing annoyed.
I didn’t care how annoyed she was because I was getting pretty damn annoyed myself.
“Why are you such a disloyal and cruel-hearted person?” I snapped.
She slammed her hands against the table and let out an aggravated sigh. It might have been funny getting that reaction out of her if she hadn’t pissed me off, too.
She glanced at her cell phone to check the time. “It’s getting late.”
“You’re the one who invited me here.”
I was so sick of BioResearch trying to strong arm me — and using my ex-girlfriend against me was just making it worse. But I couldn’t really blame them for her — I could blame them for a lot of things, but not for her.
I wondered why the hell she had to call me for the meeting in the first place instead of my lawyer. Sure, I thought that it might have to do with the fact that we’d had a personal relationship once upon a time, and I thought it was possible she might try and use it for leverage. But I had no idea she was going to use it to try to tempt, seduce, and then weasel her way out of a lawsuit.
She looked around the room, running a hand through her hair. It was probably the closest I’d ever seen to her losing her composure.
I couldn’t believe that there had ever been a time when I thought that the woman sitting in front of me was sweet. Since we’d broken up, I wasn’t sure she had a sweet bone in her entire body.
Someone next to us must have been celebrating a birthday because the room erupted into clapping and cheering and singing. I was almost irritated until I realized it had completely filtered out Amelia’s voice. Perfect.
She looked extremely pissed off about the noise. In fact, I could have sworn daggers flew out of her eyes as she glared at the partiers through her snake-like slits. It looked like she was honing in on some sort of voodoo magic or something as she looked at the group, and I couldn’t help but wonder if she had always been so bitchy and high strung.
Sure, the singing was annoying. But it was only a short-lived nuisance; it wasn’t worth being so upset about.
She rolled her eyes as soon as all the waiters and waitresses left the table. “Remember when this place used to be nice?” she said, her gaze falling to the birthday group, loud enough for them to hear.
“It still is,” I muttered through gritted teeth.
“What’s your problem?” she snapped. “Why are you being such a jerk?”
“I’m not.”
“You are,” she said. “It’s like you’ve changed.”
Finally, something worth celebrating. With a grin, I said, “I have.”
She frowned, and I almost felt bad.
“Well, I’m dating someone new.” Her tone sounded like she was trying to rub it in my face.
I laughed. Did she really think it would bother me?
“Oh, really?” I leaned forward, almost mockingly, and held my head up in my palms.
She nodded. “And unlike you, he’s actually the man he promises to be.”
I had no idea what she even meant by that. I really just wanted to finish eating my brunch and leave now that I knew what she wanted.
“I mean, to sum him up in two words,” she said, “he’s fit and fuckable.”
I rolled my eyes. Was this her attempt at making me jealous? “Thank God!” I laughed. “I mean if you were dating an uggo, I might have been a little embarrassed.”
She kept on, clearly unable to detect sarcasm — or a hint.
She talked about his “sexual prowess.” I stopped paying attention right about the time that she started talking about his apparently huge prick.
Before this unfortunate turn in the conversation, I had been babying my mimosa from fear of getting sick. Now, I changed my mind and tossed it back.
I just wanted to stop listening to her.
“God, Amelia, would you shut up?” I snapped.
I’d actually wanted the lunch to go well just so I could stay on her good side for the sake of professionalism and for the sake of that damned lawsuit. But enough was enough.
“Would you like to see a picture?” she asked, completely ignoring my plea to shut the fuck up.
“Sure,” I said, almost exasperated. This meal was wearing me out. I’d look at the picture and make my excuses. “Why not.”
She held out her phone. I tried to focus on the jingly bracelet on her wrist as I gave the image a cursory glance. “Great job.”
To me, the dude looked like a child. But I didn’t say anything. I didn’t want her to get the wrong idea. I didn’t want her to think that I really cared who she dated.
"Thanks. Well, anyway, just thought I would tell you he’s a really great guy.…”
I wasn’t sure if I’d ever be able to shut her up. I glanced at my fork. I really wanted to grab it and jam it right in my eye. Anything so that I wouldn’t have to listen to another one of these crazy mind games. Just let her talk, I told myself. Just let her talk for two more minutes, then make something up and go. Come on Ian, you can get through this.
“He’s smart.”
Then he’d definitely run for the hills as soon as possible.
“He’s funny.”
Good for him.
“He’s attractive.”
Double good for him.
“He’s successful.”
I rolled my eyes and sighed. “I get it, Amelia.”
She sighed in return. “Are you sure there’s nothing that we can do about this lawsuit?” she said out of nowhere.
Flirting. Lawsuit. Boyfriend. Lawsuit.
“I’m really not budging on this. No one can make me budge.”
“You remember how we used to play?” she asked in a seductive tone. It was the tone that said she meant a lot more than just “play.” This wasn’t a video or board games talk—this was about sex.
I almost laughed in her face. It wasn’t because I was amused; it was because this was awkward as hell. She was acting psychotic. Part of me hoped it was some sort of ploy to lower my composure and strike me down when I least expected it.
Maybe when we’d broken up, it had done a number on her. I hadn’t thought she really had feelings for me, but maybe the fact that I wasn’t groveling to get back in her pants was confusing to her somehow. Was I really the first person to turn her down? To show her that her sex appeal wasn’t enough, that she had to get some new material?
“We played teacher and student, and I was your teacher,” she whispered, clearly still thinking that I was interested. “I put you in detention when you were a bad boy…”
Did people really talk like this? Was this really something that happened in real life? She could tell I wasn’t interested, couldn’t she?
My eyes were wide in disbelief, and my mouth had opened in horror. I wasn’t sure I could even look at her. A blush rose to my cheeks, but it wasn’t because I was embarrassed by the stupid sex game we used to play—it was because I was embarrassed for her. I was embarrassed that she had brought it up, and that she thought I would somehow get turned on.
I scooted my chair back, still moving my gaze everywhere except for her. I really didn’t know what to do. I ran my hands through my hair. What the hell was I supposed to say to this?
She must have thought her snatch was made of gold. And hell, if the lame sexual advances weren’t already bad enough, she had to throw in talk about her boyfriend’s dick.
I was no longer just embarrassed for her — now I just felt insulted.
“Well, teacher,” I said, “detention is over.” I tossed my napkin down, really glad that I had actually finished my meal.
“You’re such an asshole. I don’t even know why I came here,” she spat, standing up.
She hesitated, though, instead of immediately storming off. It was like she half-expected me to beg her to stay, to apologize for being such a jerk. But I only smiled and took a slow, deliberate sip of my mimosa.
She growled, and without any other word, barreled passed me. Her feet thudded hard against the floor of the restaurant, and she had to be drawing every single eye in the room toward us — but I really didn’t care.
In fact, I grinned as I glanced over my shoulder to watch her leave. “Finally.”
I didn’t even mind that she’d left me with the bill. I was happy to pay it just to get rid of her. I was smiling — ear to ear. And it was probably because her craziness was out of my life for good.
I still remembered the time, just after we had broken up, that I’d come home and found my down pillows completely slashed. Feathers were everywhere.
I wasn’t scared of her, though. Besides the fact that my penthouse apartment had looked like a chicken serial killer had attacked, Amelia wasn’t dangerous. Just a little too emotional about rejection, it seemed.