9. Sean
9
SEAN
M onday morning dawned unnecessarily bright and clear, and when I woke up, I did so with a groan.
I was aware that I was as hard as a brick.
I groaned and ran my hands over my face.
I’d had a very erotic dream involving Chloe, and I’d enjoyed every minute of it.
Chloe had been in bed with me, her head thrown back, and her white blouse was open at the buttons, exposing her perfect tits.
Her breasts, round and full, were in my hands as she moaned while I took one nipple in my mouth—tasting her, licking her—while my hand pinched her other.
My cock was ready, and slowly, very slowly, I nudged her thighs apart.
She was so wet, moisture pooling when I reached for her clit, and I felt a sense of triumph.
She wanted me too.
And then I had woken up.
I felt an odd emotion.
Something like a sense of frustration because my dream wasn’t done yet before another thought hit me.
Chloe can’t be mine.
But I’m going to see her every weekday for the next six months.
When I registered that, there were no further questions.
I knew exactly why I was ticked off about it.
And I knew exactly how to make myself feel better.
Going to the bathroom to take care of it, I ended my feverish dream with a quick shower, damn sure that this strange dream would never happen again.
What the hell was my mind doing?
I never had sexual dreams about women I hadn’t slept with.
Chloe is just like everyone else , I reminded myself as I got dressed and walked into my kitchen for some coffee.
I didn’t need yet another woman to prove Dad’s words right.
When I had been younger, Mom had had an affair.
When she got pregnant, she had to do a paternity test, which told Dad everything he needed to know.
The child was determined not to be Dad’s, and Mom walked out on us and moved in with her new man.
In the days after, Dad constantly reiterated to me that loyalty was nonexistent in today’s world.
I didn’t believe him.
I married Helen, and unfortunately, in two years, she’d proven Dad right—loyalty didn’t exist anymore.
It was six a.m., and as the espresso machine ground the beans, I checked that Lucas was still asleep.
He still had half an hour of sleep left before it was time to wake up for school.
His face was small, peaceful, and I lingered by his bed for a minute, wishing he could look quite the same when he was with me.
I exited his room quietly and picked up my cup of espresso.
I sat down at the long dining table and looked through the messages on my phone.
I found one from my ex-wife and another one from my half-sister.
A woman I’d met once, at Dad’s funeral—Erin.
Mom’s other child. I had no plans of ever talking to her, so I ignored her text and scrolled to Helen’s.
Helen : Something’s come up.
Call me.
I downed my espresso and went back to make a second one, steeling myself before I had to speak with her.
Second cup of espresso done, I called her.
She answered on the fifth ring, just as I was wondering if I should hang up.
“Hello?” she said, sounding breathless.
“Thank goodness you called. I have some exciting news.”
I waited.
She had never needed me to speak much.
“He proposed!”
I closed my eyes for a second.
I had known she would get married soon, but this was even sooner than I’d expected.
“Congratulations,” I said, my voice dry.
“I hope you’ve made a better choice this time.”
“Oh, Sean,” she said, sounding upset.
“I’m sorry. I?—”
“It’s okay,” I cut her off.
She had been very apologetic once she realized I never cheated on her.
And promised to be faithful, going forward.
But we both knew that she wasn’t happy with me.
I worked long hours during our short marriage since it had been the start of Lead Capital Group, and I was in meetings with my business partners and clients more often than I was at home with her.
I’d told her that it would get better with time, but she had assumed something entirely different about my absence.
“We’re better off this way. Really. But I have work to get to, and you wanted to speak to me about something?”
“Yes. Lucas.”
I sighed.
“Matt and I want to spend more time here. We’re planning to have our wedding here in six months, and I need to scout more locations for the perfect venue. And since our work lets us log on remotely?—”
“How much more time?” I asked, cutting her short.
I didn’t need to know everything about her itinerary.
She never understood the pain I’d felt upon learning about her sordid affair.
And she continued to behave like we could still be friends.
I wished she would stop trying.
She hesitated. “Another month?”
I screwed my eyes shut because I knew what this meant for Lucas.
I loved having my son here, but the feeling wasn’t mutual.
“I am more than happy for Lucas to be here, but I doubt he feels the same. He misses you.”
“Please, Sean? Make it up to him by buying him something nice.”
What could I buy?
“Moana figurines perhaps?” I asked.
“He’s into Spider-Man,” she corrected me.
I drew in a deep breath.
Damn it. She was right.
How had I forgotten?
“All right. I’ll try to make him happy. You know I haven’t seen him smile at me even once?”
The line cut off.
I stopped and cursed when I realized she had hung up.
Of course she would have no solutions to my problems with Lucas.
Why would I burden her with that expectation?
No one knew how to help my son and me get along.
Setting my phone down on the polished oak table, I shoved my hands into my pockets furiously.
I wished she had told Lucas the news herself.
He always did better with her.
The sound of footsteps broke me out of my memories.
Wearing his blue Spider-Man pajamas, which his mom had purchased, and looking bleary-eyed, Lucas walked in.
Had I been so busy that I didn’t realize his obsession with Spider-Man?
His brown hair was tousled, his eyes suspicious as he regarded me, and his mouth was set in a stubborn line.
“Hey, Lucas. You’re up early,” I said easily as I came close to him.
He retreated behind the couch, and I froze.
It was obvious he wanted me as far from him as possible, and I could respect that, even if it hurt.
Besides, how soon did I have to break the news to him?
If I told him the truth right now, it would ruin his entire day at school.
He eyed the phone on the counter.
“Did I hear you talking to Mom?”
I nodded.
“Is she bringing me a Spidey toy when she arrives tonight?”
I inhaled and mentally reminded myself to buy him all the Spider-Man toys one might find in New York.
“She will—I’m sure of it,” I told him and watched his rebellious face relax for a second.
“But she won’t be coming tonight, Lucas. Her flight?—”
His face fell, and before I could reach out to him and tell him I’d make up for it in—oh, I didn’t know—as many ways as I could, he ran back to his room and slammed the door on me.
I heard the door lock as I approached and hung my head.
“Lucas,” I said, standing outside his door and wondering how I could soften the blow.
“It’ll be fine,” I said, wishing I knew what else to say instead.
“I’m here. I’ll be with you.”
“I don’t want you,” Lucas called back.
“I hate you.”
My phone rang again, and for a split second, I had this unbelievable hope that it was Helen, calling to tell me she had changed her mind and would come back soon.
But it was just a call from Anne, our nanny, letting me know she was on her way.
I hung up, and abandoned Lucas’s room after knocking on it a few more times.
Why do you hate me, Lucas?
Anne would make sure Lucas ate something and got to school on time.
But even she had no luck getting Lucas to soften up to me.
When she came in, I spoke with her briefly, letting her know about Lucas’s mood.
With a nod, she indicated to me that she would handle him—my cue to leave.
Lucas would never step out of his room until I left the apartment.
I sighed, and with some relief that I was already dressed, I grabbed my wallet and stopped in front of Lucas’s door, calling, “Bye, Lucas. Have a good day.”
I heard him kick something in response, and I leaned my head against the door, feeling frustrated.
I considered how ridiculous it sounded, saying goodbye through a closed door.
I wanted to say I love you , but I knew it would only anger him more because he didn’t believe I loved him.
How could I not love my son?
When I stepped into the elevator, I felt some relief at getting back in control.
Thinking about work, clients, and meetings—situations where I could be in charge.
Being with my son made me powerless, and I hated that.
Do I really not love my son?
Is Lucas right in hating me?
There were a lot of people who hated me, and I was fine with that.
But if Lucas hated me, it would mean I was no different from my mother.
A woman who had made no effort to earn my love after leaving us.
And I didn’t want to become my mom.
I closed my eyes for a split second and thought of Chloe Nichols, the only person who didn’t seem to fear me or hate me.
Her memory calmed me down as the elevator descended.
How was it that the beautiful bride I’d seen weeks ago was now my very much unmarried assistant?
I recalled seeing her at work last Friday—in her black skirt and gray blouse, her lips parting with shock when she first set eyes on me.
My gaze had lingered on her lips—very kissable, but not by me, of course—and on her clear eyes.
Clear blue, but confused.
My eyes flew open when I realized what I was doing.
I was savoring my memory of her, and savoring any memory of a woman was a red flag.
After my divorce with Helen, one-night stands and flings were the only things I permitted myself to engage in.
I’d let the months pass into years, never attempting to build a relationship at all.
I wasn’t going to give another woman a chance to tell me I was bad at relationships—I already knew it.
I had no relationship with my son and had ruined what I had with Helen.
Who was I to ask for another chance at them?
Chloe was bad for me.
I opened my phone for a distraction, and no sooner had I checked my email than I found one from Chloe.
It was a simple note that said she was glad for the opportunity to work for me and that she was always open to feedback.
In her email, she included a P.S.
noting that she’d bring chocolate chip cookies to the break room once she got to the office.
I groaned. Being around a woman that I could now bet everyone—including my grim HR—would fall in love with was going to be infuriating.
I didn’t want her working for me.
Remembering my decision from last Friday to get her rehired into a different position, I checked my phone for potential jobs while Chris drove.
He had been with me for ten years, and he could sense my mood and knew when to comment on the traffic or the weather and when to stay silent.
I was grateful for his silence today.
For ten minutes, I searched, until I finally found one job that could work.
It required zero work experience, she would be on the first floor, but the pay was even lower than what she would make as my assistant.
The last bit wasn’t ideal, but I needed to act fast before this job was filled.
If I could just make her life miserable enough to get her to quit, I’d be in control again.