Ryan

 

 

 

"What's with you lately, man?"

I look up from my desk to find Lemon marching into my office, closing the door behind him before he approaches my giant desk and sits down opposite me. He's the only person on the planet I'd ever allow to invade my space like this, and he knows it.

Lemon has been my closest associate for years, and he's become a lot more than just my personal assistant and adviser. He's the only man I'd call a friend.

"Nothing is with me," I insist. "These guys just annoy the hell out of me, and you know very well why. I just want this damn deal to be done with."

"Yes, we all do," Lemon agrees, leaning back in his seat and crossing his legs. "And I share your sentiment, but I can guarantee you that your attitude won't make things any easier or make this deal develop any faster."

I hate that he's right about that. I'm shooting myself in the foot, again. Lemon is the only guy who has the guts to point this out to me, another reason I respect him, as much as I hate it when he's right.

"I'm sorry," I bring forth. "It’s just not my day today."

I try to evade his inquiring gaze, instead occupying myself with some files in front of me, aimlessly stacking papers and moving random objects around on my desk, trying to signal that this conversation is over for me.

But it isn't over for him.

"Found anyone yet?" he asks casually, as if we're talking about a new employee.

My eyes meet his. Furrowing my eyebrows, I refuse to deign him with an answer.

"That's none of your business."

"It is if it affects our business, Ryan," he says. "And I know it's that time again. It has been a year, hasn't it?"

I give him a silent stare in response.

"I'm only making sure," he says, lifting his hands in a defensive way. "No reason to get mad at me."

"This doesn't concern you," I tell him. "Stay out of it."

He sighs, his eyes moving toward the window and resting on the view of the skyline beneath us. He folds his hands in his lap and his shoulders slump. I know he's uncomfortable with this. He doesn't understand it, and he'd be freaked out if he knew what exactly it is that I'm taking from these women. He doesn’t know the details, but he’s familiar with the basics. He knows I need my annual retreat, and he knows the reasons for it.

"You're right, it doesn't concern me," he says. "But you can't forbid me not to worry about this, when there's even the slightest chance it could ruin our acquisition."

"This is ridiculous," I snap at him. "Just fucking trust me when I say that it won't. I'm just in a bad mood and these guys, they-"

"It's not about them!" he insists, interrupting me in an unusually loud voice for him. "I know what you're like when you're simply annoyed, Ryan. You may spit curses behind people's back, but you always control your temper when you're with them. You know how to play by the rules - but only when you are yourself."

I let out a huff, casting him an amused look. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Lemon hesitates, his gaze nervously traveling from the skyline to his lap, to me, to my desk, and back to the skyline, before he finds the courage to meet my eyes for more than a split second.

"I know the last one left you a little... unraveled," he says. "That waitress. I told you this was risky, stepping out of your routine, asking a normal girl to do this instead of buying one-"

"Don't call her that," I hiss, cutting him off.

He raises his eyebrows in surprise. "Don't call her what?"

"The waitress," I repeat. "It's disrespectful. She's more than that."

"Whatever," he says, sighing. "You never told me her name, so how else am I going to refer to her than by her occupation?"

I wave him off.

"Forget it," I say. "This is not about her."

That's an outrageous lie, and he knows it. But – luckily for him – he doesn't call me out on it.

"Have you been looking?" he asks instead. "For a new one, I mean."

I nod. "Yes, I've started."

"At the agency?"

"Yes, at the agency," I snarl. "Seriously, Lemon, stay out of this. Just trust me."

He raises his eyebrows, tilting his head to the side as he contemplates his next words. I know this all very fascinating to him. An agency that sells high-class escorts, presented in a catalog and made to order, depending on the client's preferences. Lemon is as vanilla as a man can be, secure in a long-term relationship with his wife, who's finally carrying their first child. They've been trying to conceive for quite a while, and even I was able to sincerely offer my congratulations when it finally happened. Lemon is a good man, an innocent man, very careful and secure in everything he does. In many aspects, he's the exact opposite of me, which is why he makes such a good partner.

"I do trust you," he says eventually. "But I also worry. Like I said, last year, you-"

"You're imagining things," I interrupt him again. "I was fine last year, and I will be fine again this year. You have nothing to worry about, especially not when it comes to this acquisition."

I pause for a moment, my gaze locking onto his.

"You know I'd never jeopardize business," I add, my words strong and underlined with candor.

He nods, holding my gaze.

"Yes, I know," he says, but he doesn’t sound convinced.

He gets up from his chair, breathing noisily as he hoists his weight up. Maybe I should be more worried about him. He has put on a lot of weight since the announcement of his wife's pregnancy.

"Just find a new one," he says, as if it was that simple. "And be sure to stick to the catalog this time."

I huff. "Get your ass back to work."

He winks at me, and I watch as he leaves the office and the heavy door closes behind him.

Lemon is a smart man, but he still makes it easy to lie to him, almost too easy. It's true that I've started to browse through the agency's catalog, but I still couldn't be further from finding anyone who arouses my interest.

In fact, I've even considered skipping this year's retreat. After all, I'm not obliged to do this, no one is forcing me to play with a girl who fails to make me happy.

But I wonder if skipping altogether could turn out to be even more dangerous than sleeping with someone who took as much from me as Laura did?

Every time I recall her face, her body, her voice, I find myself yearning, longing, for something I can't have. Not anymore. I haven't felt this way in a long time, and I'm beginning to doubt my self-imposed rules again.

Would it really be so bad?

Would it really be such a dumb idea to have her again?