13. Misty
The familiar buzzof the serger is the only thing that calms my nerves. My living room is a disaster of vibrant-colored fabrics, strewn across every surface. I’d woken up this morning with a wicked pounding in my head, like a tiny man moved in and was determined to tear down the walls with his tiny hammer.
I straighten from my hunched-over position and pull my hair off the back of my neck. It’s too short to pull up into a full ponytail, but I manage to peel the damp strands from my heated skin. My apartment is sweltering in the summer heat. It’s cute, and I’ve made it my own, but it’s lacking a lot of the luxury amenities, like air-conditioning.
I reposition myself with two hands on the deep mulberry-purple fabric of my new project and press down on the pedal. It’s going to be an A-line skirt that hits just above the knees. It’s the third piece I’ve attempted today, the last two left abandoned in a pile on the floor.
Anything to keep my mind off last night. A world-altering, mind-shattering mistake. Because there is no world that I, Misty Hart, fooled around with Damon Ares Everette the freaking Third. Even his name sets us worlds apart.
But somehow, in my oh-so-drunken state, my mind convinced me that he’d wanted me. No, needed me. And I needed him. That his touch had become essential to my very existence, and nothing could stop what was happening. Certainly not me.
Which in the light of day is epically stupid. I can’t even blame it on being drunk because the second that man lifted me over his shoulder, I was light-headed for a completely different reason.
Which is why, with one simple word, No, it was like he’d dumped an ice bath down my shirt, snapping me painfully back to reality. He’s fully capable of fixing my problem with my H-1B visa, and he said no.
The worst part is it hurt. It had no business hurting, but the way he’d dismissed what we’d just done…his touch, feel, taste had pushed me over the best orgasm of my life, and he treated it like it was nothing.
Like I was nothing. Because of course I am. I’m only as good as my happy exterior, and I’d asked for something more. Had the audacity to be vulnerable for a single second, only for the world to slam reality back into my face. I hadn’t been able to rebuild my cheerful exterior, that easygoing, likable facade. No, he’d stolen that from me in a few warm touches and a single denial.
Nothing explains why he showed up there and ripped me away from Carter like that. The way he’d hauled me over his shoulder, like he’d had some sort of claim on me. I knew better than to believe in things like that.
Hell, I have firsthand experience with what happens when a rich boy doesn’t get what he wants.
I curse when my hand jerks, wrecking my stitching, and I stop the machine, pulling the fabric out and grabbing my seam ripper.
That’s when I notice that my normally precisely crisp line, one I’d mastered in high school, now looks like the path of a guy that’s three sheets to the wind.
It’s all Damon’s fault. With his perfect eyes. Perfect hair. Perfect freaking voice.
I never should have gotten close to him. I definitely shouldn’t have let him touch me.
My phone buzzes on the table, and I swipe it, noticing the dozen missed texts.
Piper: Misty Lynn Hart. What the hell did you get up to last night? You’re on the freaking news.
Mia: Damon is H.O.T. Good for you.
Piper: Girl, you better respond or Mia and I are coming to find you.
The news. Oh no, no, no. Please freaking no.
I flip through my phone to a popular news site, and my stomach plummets.
Damon Everette, caught in a passionate discussion, leaving the Elysium club with a mystery girl. Could this be the new potential Mrs. Everette?
I close my eyes and take three heaping breaths. At least it wasn’t me hung over his shoulder. At least we can spin this as a meeting once it’s announced I’m his personal PR. A simmer of frustration boils under my skin.
I’ve spent the last several years keeping my head out of the media as much as possible. Which isn’t the easiest thing to do as the PR rep for the Bruins. And in one fell swoop, Damon has all eyes on me.
Me: Damon Everette the Third is a cocky, egotistical asshole who thinks the world revolves around him and doesn’t care who has to deal with the fallout.
My phone vibrates, but instead of another text, a group video call comes through. I hit Accept, andall the anger, helplessness, and frustration boil over at the sight of my best friends. Like I’d been holding back a dam, and seeing them gives me permission to let it all out.
Piper searches my face through the screen. “Oh, Misty, are you sewing? Tell us what’s wrong.”
“Details now.” Mia pops a piece of popcorn into her mouth.
My words pour out of me like a flood I can’t dam. “First, I caught him getting head in the conference room, and I freaking froze in place like some petrified animal. Then, he cornered me in the back alley, looking way too hot for someone who just announced he was being forced to get married.”
Both girls’ eyes are wide on me, mouths slightly open, but I can’t stop the words from tumbling out.
“He went to my boss and switched me to his personal PR person. He took me off all of his projects. And because of that, my old boss refuses to sign the visa renewal papers that she messed up. Then, he showed up at the club, out of freaking nowhere,looking way too hot. Why does he always have to look so hot? It’s not fair,” I whine and continue.
“He literally picked me up and hauled me up the stairs to some private suite—because of course he has a suite—only to give me the best orgasm of my life. Then says he won’t sign the visa papers! No reason, no sorry. No explanation! Just a simple I never said I wasn’t an asshole. Like seriously, what the actual fuck. Don’t even get me started on the whole car thing. Like, who hires a personal chauffeur for their PR person?” I inhale deeply, and my lungs heave, sucking desperately for air as the last sentence leaves my mouth and the girls are caught up.
They’re both stunned silent. Mia’s piece of popcorn is suspended in the air halfway to her mouth.
“Well, aren’t you going to say anything?” I ask, maybe a little too high-pitched.
“He’s a total dickwad,” Piper responds immediately.
“Yup, grade A asshole,” Mia adds. “A superhot, ridiculously mind-boggling rich asshole.”
“Which is exactly why he thinks he can get away with absolutely anything he wants,” I practically scream.
“Do you think so?” Piper hesitates. “Just that…you mentioned a particularly good orgasm.”
My cheeks heat, but she ignores it and goes on gently. “That just maybe, you like him? A little bit?”
“Or I hate him, and he’s just hot,” I respond.
“You know, I bet the hate sex between the two of you is absolutely insane,” Mia adds, finally popping the popcorn into her mouth.
“I am not having sex with him,” I screech.
“Uh-huh, because he’s a cocky, egotistical asshole who thinks the world revolves around him. Who you are also super attracted to.”
“Yes…no…wait.” Both girls smile as I stumble over my words. “I never said I’m attracted to him.”
“Yes, you did,” Piper laughs.
“Several times,” Mia adds with a mouth full of popcorn.
Piper raises a brow. “Did he or did he not get you off in the club?”
“That means nothing,” I protest.
They simultaneously laugh.
“Hey, you’re supposed to be on my side, and we’re supposed to be hating on him together.”
“Okay, sorry, you’re totally right. We’ll leave out the fact that you’re obviously into him”—Mia ignores me when I try to cut her off—“and go back to talking shit. I can’t believe the audacity that man had to switch your jobs to work directly for him. Like, what does he think he owns, the company?”
“Not funny.”
Piper smirks. “Oh, come on, it’s a little funny.”
“If you aren’t going to be helpful, I’m hanging up,” I threaten.
“Wait!” Piper’s face turns serious. “The visa paperwork stuff is complete bullshit, and for that alone, we hate him. You should have told us. Maybe the boys can help.”
I deflate. Her agreeing that he’s an asshole doesn’t invigorate me like I thought it would. What is wrong with me? “It really shouldn’t have been a big deal. It’s just a quick change and a new signature. He’s doing this on purpose.”
“Why though?” Mia leans back and tightens her pale blonde ponytail. “I don’t get it.”
“That’s because it makes absolutely no sense!” I drop my head into my hands. “I just need to convince him to sign it.”
“Clearly, something was up last night. Maybe he’ll be better at work?” Piper replies calmly.
“Right…right…okay.” I inhale, count to three, then let it out. “I just need to show him exactly what kind of asset I am to the company and how stupid he is not to sign the paperwork.”
“He’d be a total fool not to,” Mia agrees.
I already feel better with a plan. “Okay, I just need to go to work, kick ass, and no matter how hot he is: don’t kiss him.”
Both girls smirk at me.
Shit.