“Taxi?” I yell as I bust out through the airport doors, needing not only the fresh air but to get away from whatever just happened.

A yellow cab pulls up, and the driver gets out to take my bag from me. As I flop down in the back seat, the smell in the air is stale. “Where to, Miss?” the driver asks me as he gets behind the wheel.

“The Hilton, midtown, please.” With those words, he pulls away from the airport, and I find myself drawn back as if I left something behind. Which is completely impossible, seeing as I have all my bags. But I know what it is. It’s the pull Westin has over me. That should be the last thing in the world I’m feeling, or interested in. It’s obvious he’s a womanizer. I could tell by the way he was talking to whoever on his phone before we boarded the plane and how he flirted with the stewardess then tried to figure out how long I was in town for so he could get with me.

No, thank you.

A man like him is the last thing I need in my life. For starters, I need to find a good man. Not a loose cannon who I'm sure only wants to sleep with me once and then be done.

And who does he think he is, acting as if he can read me by my accent—I don’t have an accent.

Needing clarification for my own sanity, I turn my cell phone back on and dial my sister.

“Hell—”

“Do I have an accent?” I cut her off.

“What are you talking about?”

“Would you just answer the question?” I scold her.

“I don’t know what you’re asking me.”

“I’m asking if I sound like I’m from the South.”

“Yeah, we all do. Me, you, Tommy, Dad, and Mom.”

“I don’t hear it.”

“Okay, how’s this?” she clears her throat and then says to me, “How was the flight, Sasha?” in the most monotone and proper way I’ve ever heard her speak.

“See, now that sounds like you have an accent,” I tell her.

“What’s got you all bothered, anyway? What’s it matter how you talk?”

“It’s nothing.”

“Don’t nothing me,” she quips back, and I rest my head against the seat, looking out at the bustling sights of New York City. I don’t even know where to begin, or if I want to. She’ll just get all excited and force me to tell her everything.

“It was just this guy I sat next to on the plane, that’s all.”

“Oh my God, a guy? You have to tell me everything.”

“There’s nothing to tell, he’s a total douche bag.”

“Uh, then why are you even bringing him up?”

“Here you are, Miss,” the cab driver chimes in before I can answer my sister.

“I’m at the hotel, Rach, I’ll call you after I’m settled into my room.”

“Okay, but you better call me soon.”

“I will. Love you, bye.”

I hang up with my sister and pay the cab driver, then check in at the hotel. Once I’m on the way up to my room, I realize I’ve only been thinking about one thing—Westin.

I can't believe I'm thinking about him; he should be the last thing on my mind, but for some reason, he isn’t. Forcing myself again to forget about the complete stranger that is consuming my thoughts, I get into my room and dive into my work. This is the reason I came here in the first place.

I can’t let some stranger have that control over me. I’m stronger than that. Especially with all the heartache I’ve endured. I should know better than anyone how trusting a man can come back and bite you. So I do my damnedest to forget all about Westin Smith.

After preparing all day for tomorrow’s meeting, I can hear my stomach growling, but it was a nice break and distraction from reality.

Normally, I’d order room service, but seeing how long it takes and how insanely famished I am, I slip on my flats before heading down to the hotel lobby.

When I emerge from the elevator, the lighting is dim, but not dim enough because as I head toward the restaurant, I spot Westin.

Motherfucker!

He’s sitting at the bar, hot as hell, wearing the same suit he had on when we met on the plane; the only difference is the girl on his arm. Jesus, she doesn’t look a day past twenty as she throws her head back laughing loudly at him. She’s gripping onto his bicep, and for some reason it makes my stomach churn. I shouldn’t feel this way; he’s not mine. But I guess he could’ve been, had I not been such a coldhearted bitch.

Seeing how quickly he’s moved on reminds me that I made the right decision. So, I stick to my guns, following that feeling deep in the pit of my stomach that is telling me he’s no good for me.

As I rush out of the hotel, the bellhop opens the door for me, and I give him a smile of gratitude. Then quickly put my feet one foot in front of the other. The cool New York air hits me in the face like a ton of bricks but is so refreshing at the same time. I’ve been cooped up in my room since I arrived and didn’t realize how much I needed some fresh air. Putting my hands in the pockets of my sweater, I walk not sure where I’m heading, but know it’s far away from here and Westin.

“Sasha!” My name is called out loudly, and before I can turn to see who it is, I’m being yanked backward.

“What are you doing here?” Westin asks me, a tad bit winded like he just ran after me. Before I even have the time to panic by his gesture and the way he's touching me, his light eyes consume me, sparkling in the dim city lights. And I just stare. “Sasha, you okay?” he asks.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just a little shocked by the way you yanked me back, that’s all.”

“Sorry, I was just surprised to see you.” I look down at his hand, which is still gripping onto my arm. It’s like he’s scared to let me go, scared that if he does, I’ll run. But with my next words, he loosens his grip, and I take my arm back.

“Why? Because I interrupted your date?” The words leave my mouth before I even realize what I’m doing. I look in through the glass windows of the hotel, watching the girl who he was with, pick at her fingernail polish.

“I’m not on a date,” he declares and points back in at the woman.

“Well, I don’t care if you are.”

“You seem to care,” he challenges back, and I don’t like it. I don’t like what he’s doing to me.

I don’t like him.

“Well, I don’t. Now, if you don’t mind, I need to eat.”

“Let me take you out.”

“No, I already told you, I’m not into guys like you.”

“What does that even mean?” his eyebrows furrow together, the look on his face is blank. Does he really have no idea why I won’t go out with him? He's such an arrogant ass!

“For starters, I’m focused on my career right now, not dating or hooking up.”

“I'm just trying to talk to you.”

“I don’t know you. But from what I’ve quickly observed today, I don’t think your intentions are good. I heard the way you spoke to that woman on your phone at the airport before we boarded the plane

“That was—”

I cut him off, “Let me finish.” He rolls his eyes. “And not to mention the way you eye-fucked the stewardess, watched porn on your cell phone during the flight when you thought I was sleeping, and now her?” I point inside the lobby.

He’s got a smirk on his face I could slap off. “Are you finished?” he asks me so calmly, and I nod. “I was on the phone with my business partner, who is a guy for your information. We always fuck with each other and talk dirty just playing around. And the stewardess, I was definitely not eye-fucking her. Now, if you wanna turn around, I’ll eye-fuck the shit out of you.”

“You are ridiculous!” I shout at him, shaking my head prepared to storm off, but my fucking feet won’t move.

“And I was not watching porn on the plane; I was watching a basketball game. Maybe you caught a glimpse of a Carl’s Jr. commercial or something. But trust me, I don’t watch porn. I don’t need to.”

“I don’t need to know anything more, nor do I want to,” I tell him, raising my hands in the air in front of me. I’m done with Westin Smith.