2. Harper
2
HARPER
“ I ’m busy tonight, baby. I have a heap of paperwork to complete for this acquisition. Maybe I can come over when I’m finished?” Josh explains to me over the phone.
“But I’m horny.” I pout through the phone.
“You always are. Believe me, I would much rather be in your bed than at work, but I’ve got to finish this. Then I can’t wait to come back to your place and fuck you. You’re my incentive to get it done quickly. You know how long I’ve been working on this.” I absently nod because I know he’s been busy. I’ve been seeing Josh for a couple of months. My parents introduced us, he was the son of one of their charity gala donors, and they thought we would hit it off. They were right. I mean six-foot, dark hair, blue eyes, works in finance, six pack, great dick. Tick, Tick, Tick. “I’ll make it up to you, really good,” he says.
“You sure will. Fine,” I say, rolling my eyes as my thighs tingle in anticipation.
“Thanks, baby. I’ve got to go but make sure those legs are open and ready for me when I get home,” Josh declares.
“They always are,” I say before hanging up.
How am I supposed to go back to work when he’s worked me up like that with his threat?
I make it till seven at work myself before checking in with Josh, and he’s still working. A brilliant idea pops into my head, I’m going to surprise him at work, naked with dinner. The man needs to eat and he’s a great multitasker. Luckily, he is in the building around the corner from me, so I don’t have far to go. I pick up dinner from his favorite restaurant downstairs and walk into his office block. Nodding at the security guard, I tell him I’m delivering dinner to my man, which I’ve done on multiple occasions, and he wishes me a goodnight. I head up to the seventieth floor where his office is. When the elevator doors open, I’m greeted by silence, it looks like everyone’s gone home. Excited anticipation fills me as I hurry toward Josh’s office. I don’t even bother knocking as I swing open the door and yell, “Surprise.”
Then everything stills.
Looks like I’m the one surprised as I drop the takeout bag of food onto the floor. Josh has his twenty-one-year-old intern pressed against his desk while he fucks her from behind, he’s still dressed in his suit, and she has her skirt lifted around her hips. She screams when she sees me and pushes Josh away from her. I watch his dick fall out of her, thank fuck he’s wearing a condom. Then he stares at me and his face turns white as he quickly pushes his still-hard, condom-covered dick into his suit pants.
“Harper, I can explain,” he says, fidgeting with his pants.
I shake my head still in shock. “No,” I say, waving my hands at him. This can’t be happening again, I try to hold back my tears. Why do men always cheat on me? Why am I never enough? I thought Josh was different. He knows my history and that I have trust issues. He convinced me he wasn’t like other guys. What a fucking lie. Just like all the others. ‘No, Harper. I’m not interested in my assistant, the barista, my sister’s best friend, my best friend, my gym instructor, the maid,’ and the list fucking goes on. Maybe it's a sign from the universe telling me I should give up on men. Spinsterhood might look good on me.
Turning on my heel, I storm out of the office, I don’t need to hear his excuse, like ‘this is the first time, it was an accident, it won’t happen again, you work too much, you emasculate me because I can’t provide for you, your personality is too much.’ I’ve heard all the excuses you can give.
“Baby, please let me explain,” he begs behind me.
Turning around, I stop and glare at his disheveled state. “Josh, I don’t care what you have to say. We had fun. Now you’re having fun with someone else. I’m good.” With that, I turn on my heel and leave.
Do not cry. Do not cry. Do not cry. I tell myself all the way down in the elevator.
“That was qui …” the security guard starts to say but stops himself as he realizes what happened.
“Seems like someone has already fed him,” I say.
“Oh, Miss Harper, I’m sorry. You’re too good for a man like him,” the old guy says.
“I am,” I agree, giving him a smile as I hold my head up high and straighten my back. “I’ll be all right.”
“Yes, you will, Miss,” he calls back.
As I step onto the pavement, the noise of honking horns fills my ears, and the jostling of people on the sidewalk snaps me back to reality.
“Fuck Josh,” I say, holding up my glass of champagne to cheers my girls, who rallied when I called them in tears when I got home.
“Fuck men,” Kimberly Skye, one of my oldest friends agrees, doing the same.
“Why can’t men keep their dicks in their fucking pants?” Isabelle Alessi, my other friend, adds. I’ve known Issy since high school, our parents are good friends, and her father owned a high-profile sports management agency dealing with footballers, hockey players, baseballers, and any other professional athlete. Unfortunately, he passed away six months ago and Issy has now become the heir of the empire along with her two younger sisters, and the men of the agency are pissed, thinking a woman like her can’t run her father’s empire, even though she’s been by his side since she was born. He used to joke that she was the son he never had. Issy idolized her father, and she is dealing with that grief while dealing with misogynistic assholes trying to take her company away from her. I miss my other bestie, Camryn Starr. She would be raising hell about Josh and planning the best revenge for him, but she’s taking some time away from the city to heal. I wish she would come back but I get it. I can cuddle her again when we catch up soon in France at a friend’s wedding.
“Why does this shit keep happening to me? Do I have please cheat on me, tattooed on my forehead?” I ask them.
“Because men in New York have an attention span of a gnat.” Issy sneers.
“Men nowadays can’t deal with strong, successful, independent women,” Kimberly adds.
“How is any of that my fault? I can’t change who I am,” I moan to them.
“And you shouldn’t. But there are a lot of women out there who will do anything to find a rich husband. We don’t have to because we are the rich man,” Issy states.
“Truth,” Kimberly says, clinking her glass with Issy’s.
“Are you saying that because we are too successful, we are never going to find love?” That thought kind of sucks.
“No. But the pools we are fishing in are going to be a lot smaller,” Issy explains.
“Don’t y’all get sick of this constant merry-go-round of dating?” I ask, my shoulders sagging with exhaustion over the entire situation. They both nod in agreement. “I now must start all over again. Get back onto the Manhattan meat market known as dating. I hate it.”
“We are all there with you,” Kimberly adds.
“We should ask if there are going to be any hot European men at the wedding. Because I’m over New York men, maybe we need to leave the island to find a good one,” I tell Kimberly.
“Maybe I should put in some vacation time and meet you in Europe. Did you know Pierre sent my sisters and me an invite to his wedding in Italy?”
“No.” I gasp.
“He thought I would want to go. It was a pity invite sent to us after the funeral. We all declined.”
Pierre St. Pierre broke her heart after becoming a big man on campus for his hockey and was caught screwing puck bunnies behind her back. Pierre’s betrayal devastated and honestly, I was surprised he did something so stupid, but men are easily led by their dicks. Now he’s the biggest star in hockey and is marrying his supermodel girlfriend, Kitty, in Italy. I have my team follow them because I’m not Pierre’s biggest fan. It’s my job working in PR, specializing in influencer marketing, to know who the top earners are, and that is them. Their beautiful faces are plastered everywhere with their picture-perfect home they just built and their gorgeous dog, Frankston, who has over a million followers on his own profile online. She posts images of herself in a bikini when they go on exotic holidays. Then, her in workout gear, and she is always dressed in a cute outfit when attending one of his games. Honestly, the happy, sappy posts the two of them do of each other make you want to gag. After Pierre broke Issy’s heart, she transferred colleges and decided to go to school in London, far, far away from hockey, Pierre, and her old life. The first time she saw him since college was at her father’s funeral year’s later, and I know seeing him again was hard. Issy has always kept her emotions to herself, I know she’s stuffed her feelings for Pierre deep down inside, and I don’t think she realized how much she never got over him breaking her heart all those years ago until she saw him again.
My phone buzzes and when I look down, I see Josh’s name flash on the screen. I click block for my own peace of mind.
“Europe can’t come fast enough. I don’t know if I can wait till then.” I sigh.
“Why don’t you take a week off and head to The Paradise Club resort? Josh won’t be able to track you down there. You can relax on the beach and get a big boost of vitamin D,” Kimberly says, bursting out laughing at her joke.
“Vitamin D,” Issy says, laughing.
“Paradise always helps to get the mojo back,” Kimberly adds.
She’s not wrong, it’s a sex club island resort where the hottest men in the world hang out or work there. She’s right. That is exactly what I need to get over another cheating asshole. Who needs New York men when I have Paradise?
“Fuck Josh. I’m going to Paradise, ladies!” I declare. “Sun, sex, and cocktails. What else does a woman need?”