Phoebe dug her feet into her boots and zipped them to her exposed calf. That meeting had lasted longer than she cared for, and now all she wanted to do was find herself between Quentin’s arms and go to sleep. After picking up her briefcase, Phoebe tied the buckle around her double-breasted coat and strolled to the exit where she flipped the switch, shutting off the light. She closed her door behind her and locked it just as Jordan approached.

“Don’t tell me you’re leaving?” Phoebe feigned surprise. “The almighty Jordan never gets tired of work,” she teased.

“I like the almighty part,” he said, teasing back.

Phoebe smirked.

“I’ll walk you out,” he said.

Together, they ambled to the elevator. It dinged and opened without hesitation. They moved inside and turned to face the door.

“I didn’t get a chance to ask you how your new year had gone,” Jordan started.

“It was wonderful,” she said with a dreamy smile.

Jordan nodded. “Good.”

“How was yours?”

“Excellent,” he responded. “Selena and I spent it together in Sidney.”

“Australia?” Phoebe cooed.

Jordan chuckled, “That’s the one.”

“Hmm must be a little love in the air,” she teased.

“Time will tell,” he said.

Phoebe remembered Quentin saying the same thing to her.

“So,” Jordan got down to what he really wanted to know, “everything between you and Quentin, cool?”

Phoebe leaned into his shoulder and smiled up at him. “Don’t worry about me, big brother. Everything between Quentin and I is superb.”

 

It had only taking her fifteen minutes to drive twenty-five miles to reach him. Phoebe pulled her Mercedes Benz into Quentin’s driveway and parked. She retrieved her keys and briefcase, deciding to work from home tomorrow. His home to be exact. She smiled thinking about lighting a fire and being able to cuddle with him as she worked. She imagined Quentin rubbing her shoulders while she sent emails, took phone calls, and did research. Her smile lingered as she strolled to the front door and stuck her key in for the first time.

Elated and filled with happiness, she opened the door and strolled inside. Her nerves began to jump joyously as she moved through the kitchen. Discarded food sat on the counter and an empty wine glass in the sink.

“Aww,” Phoebe sang, thinking about the way she’d abandoned him and the massage he had for her. She walked toward the living room, looking for Quentin, but only found his high definition TV on ESPN. As she thought about ways to make it up to him, Phoebe scanned the room then strolled slowly down the hallway before entering his sleeping quarters.

It took you long enough,” Cindy said as she arched her naked back and glanced toward the door. Laying across Quentin’s bed with her bare legs tangled between his sheets, Cindy sat up gradually, and her mouth opened with surprise.

“Phoebe,” Cindy said, astounded.

A wave of sickness cascaded over Phoebe, and the briefcase she held onto slipped from her fingers and hit the ground. Her mind wanted to disregard the image of Cindy’s naked body spread out for her Quentin, but Phoebe’s eye held her captive. Instantly, her throat locked, and a severe splitting pain rocked through her existence.

“Oh my God,” Phoebe said, stunned into tears as the watery mist clouded her vision and fell down her face. Without trying, Phoebe’s eyes traveled to Cindy’s perky breasts, flat belly, thick hips, and silky legs. Phoebe slapped a hand over her mouth to control her regurgitation, and her feet back pedaled before she turned and fled down the hallway. Her hands fell out in front of her as she felt against the walls the more her vision blurred, half running and half dragging herself with tears streaming in a downpour.

Just as she reached the front door, it opened, and Quentin entered shaking off the cold. Phoebe ran past him, but her sudden appearance mixed with the distress in her eyes made him quickly reach out.

“Phoebe,” he grabbed her, “where are you going, what’s wrong?”

Phoebe turned around and slapped him hard. Her palm stung as she pulled it back and shouted, “I trusted you!”

Taken aback, Quentin paused, and his mind shuffled quickly. Phoebe turned to leave again, but he halted her advances, grabbing her arm again.

“Phoebe! I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He pulled her into an embrace.

“Let me go!” she shouted. “You must think I’m an idiot!” Phoebe shook out of his arms.

“Can you calm down for a second and tell me what you’re talking about.”

“As if you don’t know there’s a woman in your house! In your bed for that matter! She’s waiting for you to come back so you can finish what you started.” She held a shaking hand out at him. “I can’t believe you would do this to me! Never once did I suspect you would. Why go through all of the theatrics and give me a key if you were going to keep screwing other women!?”

“Phoebe, listen to me. I’m not screwing other women.” He put his hands together and step toward her, and she stepped back. “Please,” he said. “I don’t know what you saw, but we can get down to the bottom of this right now.”

“So, you’re saying you didn’t know that your assistant is in your house?”

Quentin hesitated. “I knew she was there, but she—”

“Just shut up, Quentin! How can you excuse this?” Phoebe shook her head. “I was a fool,” she uttered as tears streamed down her face. “I should have never!” she yelled. She turned on her heels and fled through the yard, and Quentin went after her again.

“I’m not letting you leave like this.” He reached for her, and she shoved him with as much strength that was inside her soul.

“I hate you!” she screamed, and he fell back, stunned by her outburst. Phoebe jumped in her Benz and pulled out of the driveway. The tires pealed and kicked up asphalt as she threw the car in drive and took off down the street.

Lost in a trance, Quentin stood there taking his thoughts over what had just happened. It was then that he turned on his heels and re-entered the condo. His heavy steps announced his thundering presence, and when he cut the corner to his bedroom, Quentin was halted in his tracks.

Cindy had not moved. She still laid relaxed across his sheets much like the way she was when Phoebe had entered the room, with her legs entwined in the covers and brown peeks of her naked body on display.

“Son of a bitch,” Quentin barked.

Cindy sat up, and her breasts bounced as she perched on her knees.

“Is there a problem?” she asked.

Quentin let out a harsh breath. Really, this was all his fault. If he would’ve had the necessary conversation with Cindy from the beginning, maybe just maybe, she wouldn’t be lying naked in his bed. But that was just his voice of reason, assuming Cindy cared anything remotely about his relationship with Phoebe.

“Put your clothes on,” his ordered. His steely voice was rough and infuriated. Right now, Quentin felt homicidal. He may have just lost Phoebe forever. But taking a little blame on himself, he decided not to throw her out on her ass.

Cindy slipped out of the bed and sashayed to him. “I’ve missed you,” she purred. She flung her arms around his neck, and Quentin peeled her off of him.

“I said put your clothes on, I’m calling you a taxi.”

“Hey,” she said, reaching out to him, “what’s going on here?”

“What’s going on here?” he murmured. “Are you serious,” his steely voice drawled. “You know Phoebe and I are in a relationship. You’re disrespectful. Now get your shit and leave.”

Cindy took several steps back, embarrassed and astonished that he would dismiss her. She grabbed her clothes from the floor and quickly tossed them on as Quentin left the room to call a taxi. As he dialed, Quentin cursed, and his thoughts shuffled on what he could do to fix this.

“Mercury,” the man on the other line answered.

Quentin gave his address and disconnected the line just as Cindy came out the room.

“Hey Quentin, I’m sorry. You’re right, I was out of line, and I promise it won’t happen again. Honestly, I didn’t know you were serious about her since you’re usually not serious about anyone.”

Quentin regarded her. “You’re right. I take partial responsibility for this. I should’ve made it clearer. But I’ve got to tell you, Cindy, you can’t work with me anymore.”

Her eyes widened. “What, no, just calm down a minute. I promise it will never happen again.”

“It’s too late,” Quentin added.

“You’re not kidding.”

“I’m sorry to say that I’m not.” He looked from her to the window. “As of tomorrow, you’ll be transferred to the westside office. You’ll be working as Courtney’s assistant. Your salary will stay the same, and you’ll be reporting to her instead of me. Turn in your company phone when you get there, and Courtney will assign you a new one.”

Cindy’s mouth dropped as a flurry of emotions and thoughts pulsated through her mind. She watched him with a mixture of shock and dread. She would be separated from him—as a sex partner and as a friend, someone she’d grown attached to. The latter hurt her more than the former.

“They say there’s a time and a season for everything.” He looked back at her. “Our season is over.”

 “You can’t do this,” her voice cracked. “I love you.”

Quentin’s eyes widened. He didn’t see that coming a mile away. “Since when?” he said.

“Since… since,” she stuttered, still in a state of disbelief.

“This is straight up bullshit. You knew what our relationship was. You knew,” he said.

Cindy shrugged. “You can’t help who you fall in love with.”

Quentin turned his head with a shake. A severe headache pounded at his skull. “I’m sorry.” He turned back to her. “I don’t love you. I’m in love with Phoebe. There will never be anything between you and I, Cindy. I’m sorry.”

A horn outside the condo blew long and hard as they stood there staring at each other.

“I’ll have your car sent to your home when it’s ready.”

“So that’s it? Just like that.”

Quentin thought for a moment. Firing Cindy would be best for his relationship with Phoebe, if he managed by God’s grace to win her back. The problem with that was Cindy could easily make his life a living hell. In this day and age, some women filed sexual harassment lawsuits if they were pissed off enough. Despite the truth, it would be his word versus hers. And he was the “notorious playboy.” The only way he saw fit to fix the situation was to keep Cindy away from him—and Phoebe. And to not disparage Cindy by firing her. He couldn’t fire her anyway; he knew his wrongness in the situation.

All the changes, the choices made, was the best call.

“This is it,” he said finally.

Cindy shoved her arms inside her jacket and walked past him robotically. At the front door, she stopped and looked back at him. Her mouth opened, but no words came from her. Instead, she turned and exited.

Soon after, Quentin had his jacket in hand and left in hopes of reuniting with the love of his life.