2. Miami Bound
Miami Bound
Victoria
I was relieved when I exited my apartment building and was greeted by my Uber driver and not my living nightmare, Knox Ramsey. What frustrated me the most about Knox was that if he weren’t such a dick, I would’ve thrown him a little something.
I’m not a fucking idiot. I know that man has been cuckoo for my Cocoa Puffs since he interviewed me, and I’m not ashamed to admit I landed the job because the man wanted to bend me over his desk.
I was seriously one “Thank you for applying, but we found another candidate” email away from selling feet pictures and my used underwear to the freak nasties on the Internet.
Truthfully, I wouldn’t mind the bending.
Knox Ramsey was a fine piece of work. He towered over me, even when I wore stilettos, making me feel small and vulnerable around him.
There had been times when we rode the elevator together, and I became damp between the thighs thinking about him slamming me against the elevator walls and taking me down.
In my defense, this little fantasy almost always happens when I’m ovulating. Some things can’t be helped.
He was 49-years-young, stayed active, and was a sharp dresser with a panty-melting smile.
He reminded me of Clark Kent when he donned his glasses when he was too helpless to order more contacts.
He had the same jet black, wavy hair and strong jawline.
We worked overtime a few weeks ago, and the man nearly made me drool when he slowly rolled the sleeves of his dress shirt up, exposing solid forearms.
In my defense, I was ovulating…I think.
The Lord in Heaven knew I was tempted a few times during our business trips. All I had to do was knock on his suite door, and he’d drop his drawers, but all the late-night clandestine fantasies went out the window as soon as the man opened his stupid ass mouth.
That’s fine. I’ll get that itch scratched while I’m in Miami.
Instead of thinking about Overlord Ramsey, I texted my girls on the ride to the airport.
Me: I’m on my way to the airport!
Alyssa: You’re cutting it a little close.
Me: No, I’m not. Two hours is plenty of time to get checked in and through security—perks of flying First Class.
Brittney: Did your work daddy buy your ticket?
I frowned.
Me: First of all, don’t call him that. You may refer to him as: “Bastard,” “Dirty Old Bastard,” “That Man Over There,” or “Tall, Dumb, and Ugly.”
Alyssa: Girl, stop. We’ve seen your boss.
I don’t know about his intelligence, but I’m guessing he has to be pretty damn smart to successfully run his business as CEO.
The man is far from ugly. It might be the shot I took to the head before leaving my house this morning talking, but he’s a 10 out of 10.
Brittney: Fo sho.
Me: Girl…it’s 6:30…in the morning…
Alyssa: And it’s 6:30 in the evening somewhere else. Miss me with the bullshit. I’m officially on vacation!
Me: All right. You’re gonna fuck around and be too inebriated to board the plane.
Brittney: She’s gonna be drunk and sad watching the plane taxi away.
Alyssa: Hell nah. Y’all are not leaving without me. I’ll call in a threat. All the planes will be grounded.
I snorted and exited our group chat when I received an incoming text message from Dirty Old Bastard. I rolled my eyes at the attachment of an open box of donuts from my favorite bakery located two blocks from our office.
Sometimes, when Knox wasn’t being a complete monster, I’d find a treat on my desk from him—usually in the form of a heavenly soft and sweet powdered sugar donut.
The last time he left me donuts was to apologize for making me do a ton of preparation for a meeting that he ultimately bailed on.
It took me weeks to assemble the massive expense report and presentation, only to be the only attendee at the meeting.
Without informing his executive assistant, Knox decided to take the clients to a working brunch followed by golf, leaving me at the office hotter than a hot comb on Easter Sunday morning.
I was still pissed when he returned to the office that afternoon with a box full of fluffy, delectable donuts.
I snatched them from him without hesitation and devoured three, which resulted in him nicknaming me Tori Montana due to the epic mess I made with the powdered sugar.
Tori Montana…Knox can be funny when he wants to be, but those moments are few and far between.
Knox: Look what I got you, Tori Montana.
Me: You’re messaging me outside of work hours and on my personal phone. I meant what I said when I said I didn’t want to hear from you. Just for that, I’m taking FMLA when I return.
Knox: Let me save you the trouble. Your FMLA has been denied.
I frowned in disgust.
Knox: Stop frowning. You’re too pretty to frown.
I groaned and threw my phone into my purse.
This man knows me too well, like on some lover-type shit, minus the sex.
I guess it’s bound to happen when you spend over sixty hours a week with someone.
You unintentionally learn everything about that person—their likes and dislikes, quirks, mannerisms, and favorite deli order.
A week away from Knox will do me good. It’s just what the doctor ordered.
* * *
“Good morning. My name is Tiffany, and thank you for choosing Premiere Flight Airlines. Put your suitcase on the scale, and we’ll get you checked in,” the preppy agent said.
“Good morning,” I grunted as I lifted the suitcase onto the platform. I said a silent prayer that I wasn’t over my limit.
“Forty-eight pounds even. You won’t have a lot of room for souvenirs,” Tiffany mentioned.
As long as I can fit a magnet for Knox in the suitcase, then I’ll be fine. Ugh. Why am I thinking about bringing him anything back?!
Knox had a quirk about collecting novelty magnets from every place he visited. He once overshared that his parents used to do it when they went on road trips when he was a child. He wanted to keep his father’s memory alive by continuing the tradition.
It’s not a big deal if I buy him a magnet. It’s a nice gesture that won’t break the bank.
“May I have a name and ID?”
“Victoria Caldwell,” I confirmed, slipping her my driver’s license.
“And where are we traveling today, Ms. Caldwell?”
“Miami.” I beamed.
“How fun!” she exclaimed. “I went to Miami a couple of years ago for Spring Break and had the best time of my life. I mean…I returned with a little souvenir I couldn’t unwrap until nine months later, but it was a memorable experience.”
Not this woman getting knocked up on Spring Break.
No judgment. I just wouldn’t mention it in a professional setting, which makes me question if I’m really down to clown in Miami.
Yes, contraceptives exist, but they can also fail.
At least if Knox knocked me up, then I wouldn’t have to worry about child support.
I sighed.
Why am I thinking about this man? Knox and child support shouldn’t be in the same sentence.
“Um…Ms. Caldwell?”
“Yes?”
“I don’t have a booking here for you.”
“I beg your pardon?” I asked, now on high alert.
“I see here that your ticket was canceled last night.”
“Who canceled my ticket? I didn’t do it.”
“Let me…look at the notes here.”
I watched Tiffany’s face morph from curiosity to downright confusion.
“There’s a note here that says that your husband called and said you died. The ticket was canceled, and you were refunded.”
“I’m not dead! And more importantly, I don’t have a husband!” I shrieked.
“No surprise there,” someone mumbled behind me. I whirled around and found an unfortunate-looking man with a beard that looked like it was playing Connect Four. I shot him my best “fuck around and find out” glare before returning to Tiffany.
“There has to be some sort of mistake. Is there another flight to Miami today?” I asked, logging into my email to find the cancellation confirmation.
“I’m sorry, but all the flights today are booked. In fact, some are overbooked.”
I went cold when I received an incoming call from Knox.
This…motherfucker…
“Hello?” I whispered, swallowing back all my rage.
“Good morning, Victoria. Come outside. We have a plane to catch.”
“Did you call the airline and tell them that I died?!”
“I did. Come outside.”
“Why would you do something like that?”
“I told you our business trip was mandatory, and you thought I was joking. Get it in gear, Victoria. We can’t idle forever in the pickup area. It’s rude.”
“Pickup area?”
“Yes, outside the terminal. We’re flying privately from another airport. Let’s go. Your donuts are getting cold.”
I hung up the phone with a trembling hand.
“Are you okay, Ms. Caldwell?” Tiffany asked.
“I’m not okay, and neither will Knox Ramsey be once I’m done with him.”