Chapter 3
3
William
“Percy Haines.” The man dressed in a custom three-piece brown suit with wingtip shoes to match extends a hand to me.
I take it in mine for the obligatory shake. “Good to meet you, Percy. Have a seat.”
He glances around the bustling coffee shop on Fifth Avenue in the heart of Manhattan. His gaze is searching for something… or perhaps, someone.
Percy heads a hedge fund. He considers himself a rock star in New York City finance. He’s likely the only person alive who holds that view because one of the women I work with looked into his background. He is successful, but his reputation could use a tweak or two, or ten if I’m being blatantly honest, and I will be with him.
“You’ll find that coffee is just as you like it.” I point at the ceramic mug sitting on the table directly in front of the chair he just dropped his ass onto.
Skepticism knits his brow before he takes a tentative sip. A satisfactory smile glides over his lips. “This will do.”
Pompous bastard.
Men like Percy have kept me in business for almost ten years. Even before I finished my studies in sociology at Harvard, I was helping out friends who needed dating advice.
That ballooned into such a lucrative side hustle that I dropped my plan to pursue a master’s degree. Within a year of moving back to New York City to become a full-time ‘ Personal Advisor ’ to a handful of wealthy men in this city, I had cleared all of my student debt and bought a two-bedroom apartment in Brooklyn.
I still own that property along with three others that dot the northeastern part of this country, but my prize jewel is the sprawling penthouse in Tribeca. It was my brass ring when I started this endeavor. Reaching that milestone two years ago was fucking amazing. Even though the penthouse is currently undergoing a massive renovation, I still sleep there every night because what better place to dream than in a home that is your dream come true?
“Opal Waverly needs to be mine within the next thirty days,” Percy blurts out. “I’ll double your fee if you get it done within two weeks.”
“Slow the caveman roll, Percy.” I look him dead in the eye. “By get it done, you’re referring to my guidance in helping you put your best foot forward so Miss Waverly sees the merit in spending time with you?”
“I thought I made it clear on the phone.” Percy fidgets with one of his silver cufflinks. “I saw her at a restaurant and fell head over heels. I paid a pretty penny to get her name from the ma?tre d’.”
He did make that abundantly clear during our initial phone consultation. He actually repeated it twice.
“I need her to marry me. You’re supposed to be the best in the business, Mr.
Knight, so make it happen.”
“You would like it if she agreed to go on a date with you,” I clarify. “Marriage is that spot on the horizon that starts coming into view after a few months of dating, some serious discussion, and, in your case, an appreciation for the true gift that Miss Waverly is.”
I half-expect Percy to get up and march out of here, but he wants this woman so he doesn’t move an inch. “Yeah, of course. I know we’re meant to be, so I’m a little eager.”
“A little?” I tip my coffee mug in his direction. “The contract you signed was clear. You’ll have my guidance in becoming the best version of you possible. I’ll aid in that by dropping myself into Miss Waverly’s life so I can pick up cues regarding what she likes and what she hates.”
I stress the last word because I’veyet to meet a woman attracted to the stench of desperation. Percy may be wearing expensive cologne, but his expression since he sat down across from me is giving everything away.
He’s got it bad for this woman, and if he hasn’t dropped to one knee to pledge his undying love to her forever, he’s on the cusp of that. Percy needs to be schooled in how to endear himself to Miss Waverly so he does indeed become a man she sees as her future partner.
I can already tell that lesson one for Percy will be the concept of self-control, which he is seriously lacking at the moment.
“I fucked a blonde last Monday!” A man’s voice bellows over the dim hum of the people in this café. “I followed that up with a leggy brunette and then finished the week off with a pair of redheads. My balls need a bag of ice.”
I need a drink that is stronger than this cup of coffee.
I push my chair back from the table. “Excuse me for a moment, Percy.”
His eyebrows dart up. “Yeah, sure, Mr. Knight.”
“Call me William.”
“Will do, Will.” He huffs out a laugh at his unimaginative play on words.
“William,” I correct him because if we’re going to work together until Miss Waverly falls in love with him, I need him to be on the same page as me when it comes to my name.
“Right.” He nods.
“I can top that!” Another guy’s voice booms through the coffee shop. “In the past three days, I’ve had two brunettes. One with tits the size of cantaloupes and a blonde who swallowed every last drop of my load.”
“Jesus,” I mutter as I button my gray suit jacket. “It’s not even nine a.m. yet.”
I approach the two men who can’t shut the fuck up about their sexual conquests. I don’t care if they’re real or imagined. The pressing issue is that there are too many people in this morning hotspot being forced to bear witness to their over-zealous bullshit.
“Gentlemen,” I say as I approach where they’re standing. “I’m using that term loosely.”
They laugh it off like I’m kidding.
I’m not.
“What’s up, bro?” One asks as he taps my shoulder with his hand.
I glance at the grime under his fingernails. “I’m not your bro, and you need a manicure.”
They laugh harder. The blond one in the dark blue suit doubles over.
I’m straight-faced as I go on in a lower tone, “I also need you both to shut the hell up.”
That gets their attention. The brown-haired one, who looks to be around twenty-five, eyes me up. “You’re serious?”
I cross my arms over my chest. “Very.”
“Are you not getting any?” His blond counterpart asks as he takes a step toward me. “Your pecker is lonely, isn’t it?”
I don’t want to crack a smile, but seriously… pecker ?
Not wanting to subject the people in here to another second of this unrequested discussion about body parts, I give the guy a free lesson in human anatomy and vocabulary. “Never use that word again. It’s a cock, or a dick, or in the presence of your mother, if you’re facing a deadly infection in your groin area, call it a penis.”
The brown-haired one scrubs a hand over his forehead. “We all call it a pecker.”
I look behind him. “There are more of you? For the love of God, don’t let that be true.”
The shorter, blond one smirks. “Why are you bothering us? We were minding our own business until you butt in.”
I rub my jaw. “You were subjecting everyone within earshot to a discussion that should never have happened.”
“What discussion?” they ask in unison.
I inch up my left eyebrow. “Think back.”
They glance at each other before the dark-haired one smiles at his friend. “Oh, yeah. I was telling you about the randos I fucked… and you…”
“Women,” I correct him before he can add to that.
“Right, women.” The blond guy nods. “I was telling Ryan about the women I fucked, too.”
Now that we’ve established that one of these assholes is named Ryan, I feel the need to clarify who the other one is. “And you are?”
“Jason,” the blond offers. “Jason Goodman.”
He’s not living up to his surname. For a hefty price I could help him with that, but I don’t have more time to waste on these two at the moment since Percy is patiently waiting for me.
“Jason and Ryan,” I say each name slowly. “I’m inclined to believe you were both lying about what your dicks got up to this past week.”
“A cute brunette did smile at me,” Jason blurts out.
“There was a blonde at the bus stop who talked to me,” Ryan chimes in. “She told me to stop staring. That still counts, right?”
Shaking my head, I exhale harshly. “Women are wonderful. All women are exquisite and deserve to be treated as the gifts they are. So when, or if you ever do, take a woman to bed, keep your damn mouths shut about it. If a woman is willing to share herself with you, respect that.”
They stare at me.
“I’m serious,” I accentuate each syllable. “Got it?”
“Yeah.” Ryan nods.
“Got it,” Jason adds.
My hand dives into the inner pocket of my suit jacket to retrieve a business card. I place it in Ryan’s palm. “This is my tailor. Visit him, and he’ll fix that suit jacket. It looks like you stole it out of your dad’s closet.”
“I did.” He sighs. “I can’t afford a new one.”
“You’ll get a great deal on a gently worn suit and the alterations you’ll need to make it look like a million bucks if you tell him William sent you.”
“William,” he repeats my name.“Thanks, man.”
I tilt my chin down. “Spring for a manicure or a good nail brush. Women notice shit like that, and if you ever want to have sex, you need to clean yourself up.”
“I’ve had sex,” he lies.
“You haven’t,” I challenge him. “Be honest.”
“I will soon,” he alters his response. “One day soon.”
I have my doubts, but I leave him and his friend so I can head back to Percy. Manhattan is teeming with men who don’t have a clue. I can’t help them all, but I do what I can as often as I can.
I wish to hell it were enough.