Chapter 3 #2
“Think of it this way. Maybe a wonderful ending to a terrible day. I’m sorry about your job, but I believe in karma and that everything happens for a reason. Something better is coming your way. Just trust me.”
“Trust you? The girl who had me purchase that ugly yellow dress two years ago? I don’t think so.” At least we could laugh together. “I know what you mean. I’ll try and look at the bright side.”
As we hung up, I glared at my frowning face. For me, the bright side almost always had dark shadows waiting to engulf me, sucking me into a foreboding abyss. Maybe I was being a little dramatic, but right now, I had a very bad feeling that things were going to get much worse before they got better.
I took a step back, nodding approvingly before grabbing my bottle of perfume. A treat from my mother for my birthday. Damien should eat his heart out tonight.
He better.
Or I’d shove his face into his tiramisu.
“Dinner was wonderful,” I said as the waiter refilled our glasses of wine. Damien had gone all out, ordering a full bottle instead of just a glass, suggesting I order the most expensive thing on the menu.
Which I had.
Now he was splurging with the very dessert he couldn’t seem to get enough of and one I couldn’t stand.
As he licked whipped cream off his spoon, his eyes became hooded. I was certain the man was going to have an orgasm in the middle of the restaurant.
“You sure you don’t want a bite?” he asked when he noticed I was staring at him.
“No. I’m having too much fun watching you. So, what did you want to talk about?”
He suddenly seemed annoyed I was taking him away from his treat. His dark gaze was darted in my direction. Finally, he pushed the dish away, staring me directly in the eyes. “I know you’ve had a very bad day. Losing a job is never easy, but maybe it’s for the best.”
For the best. Why did everyone always say that?
“It’s been difficult, but that’s okay. I’ll find another job. Maybe I’ll work on my novel while I search.”
His snort instantly irritated me. “You should give up the idea of being a writer, Lily. Let’s face it. You’ve been working on that damn book of yours for what, five years? I think it’s time to reconsider working with your father.”
“Yeah, so what if I take ten years to finish my novel? The story needs to be perfect.” Why was he acting this way?
Not that he’d ever encouraged me in writing, but he’d also never made fun of my creative process before.
Was he trying to piss me off? The last thing I’d wanted was to work for my dad.
He knew that. Our first argument had been all about Damien pushing me into accepting a position.
Come to think of it, several arguments had been about my refusal to take my father up on his offer. Interesting.
“Perfect. If the book isn’t perfect by now, then it never will be.”
“Damien. That’s not fair.”
“Life isn’t fair, Lily. It’s about time you realized that you are the captain of your ship. You need to stretch yourself, learn to take what you want. You need to start making a living.”
A deep, heavy sigh slipped past my lips and I turned my head toward the window.
Come to think of it, the man had never supported a single hobby or whim over the years.
He’d told me I needed to be practical. The truth was he remained angry I hadn’t gone to work for my father.
It suddenly dawned on me that had I accepted my dad’s offer, I would have been Damien’s gravy train.
The man spent money as if it grew on trees. My thoughts drifted to everything Vicky had said about Damien over the last few months.
“No, you’re right. Life sucks when you least expect it. Now, what did you want to talk to me about?” I folded my arms, resting them on the table. A sudden need to grab a few sharp knives from the restaurant’s kitchen slithered into my mind.
He had the nerve to look at his dessert again. I was obviously keeping him from enjoying his night to the fullest. A mean streak was forming. By the end of the night, I could end up on the news and not because of my stunning good looks.
“You know I was up for the promotion at work,” he said in a sly voice. “Partner. It’s all I’ve ever wanted.”
“Did you get it?” I was hopeful until he looked away and I caught the fact he’d rolled his eyes.
“Not yet. I’m vying for the position against Jarvis. He was recently married to the daughter of a state senator.”
Already, I didn’t like where this was going. “Good for him.” Did that mean he was asking me to marry him? For about a million reasons, my skin began to itch. “What are you trying to tell me, that in order to achieve this promotion you need to settle down?”
He offered a smug look.
“The board of directors of the firm is very picky about who they want on their upper echelon. I’ve thought about this, Lily. You’re a nice girl and I’d like to keep seeing you. But you’re not marriage material.”
“Marriage material? What does that even mean?” Whoa. Hold on here. And I was feeling guilty about being kissed by a stranger?
I wasn’t certain I’d heard him correctly.
“There’s no easy way to say this, Lily. So I’ll just jump right in since you’ve given me no other choice.
I’m getting engaged to Sophie Walker. As you know, her father is a highly respected leader of industry.
Our alliance will work well with my future plans.
Now, you and I can continue fucking and getting together occasionally, but you can feel free to date other guys.
We can keep stuff at each other’s house so if I’m working late or on the wrong side of town, I can crash at your place. ”
There was some chance I’d fallen into a bad comedy.
Or maybe he was pranking me. “No other choice? Let me get this straight,” I said as I rolled my fingers through my hair.
“You’re marrying another woman so you can obtain the position of partner in your company.
However, we can still be fuck buddies when your fiancée isn’t looking or doesn’t care.
Maybe every once in a while, we’ll grab a movie, a drink together, or head to the local clinic to check for STDs. Do I have that about right?”
I wasn’t typically the kind of woman who raised her voice. In fact, Damien had called me the epitome of a librarian, cute and mousy. I should have gutted him right them and there. Instead, I’d wasted almost four years of my life with a man who wanted to have his cake and to eat it too.
“You can lower your voice now. You know what I’m saying is true.
You have no real aspirations. All you want to do is write a silly romance novel.
Up until now you’ve been nothing but a librarian.
I need someone with spunk. Someone who refuses to tread lightly.
Who has aspirations to move up in the world. ”
“Nothing but a librarian? A silly romance novel?” My skin tingled, explosive heat coursing through every inch of my body. I had a feeling that I was screeching, although I wasn’t certain since I was embroiled in a wash of rage.
“There’s no need to make a scene.”
“Make a scene?” I tossed my napkin onto the table, slowly rising to my feet.
As I stood over him, I thought about all the nights he’d told me he was going to call then had supposedly gotten hung up at work.
Or when I’d gathered a strange scent of perfume and he’d said their new employee had jumped him for a hug.
Nobody did that shit, not unless they wanted to spend the afternoon in HR.
Goddamn, I was an idiot.
“Sit down, Lily. You’re making a fool of yourself.”
That was it. Maybe my reaction was all about the bad day I’d had or the fact I’d thought we were exclusive. Whatever the case, when I grabbed him by a fistful of hair, my nails digging into his scalp, the feeling of euphoria was fabulous.
But when I pitched his head down, smashing his face into his beloved tiramisu, that was the icing on the cake.
“Have a nice life, Damien. I’ll drop your things off at Goodwill.”
“Hi, Dad,” I said as I thumped down on the couch. Misery was about to become my constant companion. I’d never been so humiliated in my life.
“Oh, Lily. I thought I’d need to leave a voicemail. I’m glad I caught you. How about doing your old man the honors of having lunch with me tomorrow? We can go to your favorite Italian restaurant.”
After the day I’d had, why did I have the terrible feeling he was proctoring the perfect setting to tell me I had an illegitimate sibling? “Any reason why?”
“Can’t a father ask his busy daughter out for lunch?”
Laughing, I couldn’t think of a good excuse at this point. “Mother told you about my layoff. Didn’t she?”
“She might have mentioned something about what happened.”
My chest tightened. There was no getting out of having lunch with him. “Sure, that’ll be great. What time?”
“How about one?”
“Okay, I’ll meet you there.”
“It’ll be so good to see you, punkin.”
Punkin. At twenty-six years old, in my mind the name no longer fit. Maybe that’s why I wasn’t marriage material. Who said that crap anyway? What did that actually mean? “See you then.”
Before I tossed the phone, I flicked on the television and pulled up my Instagram account.
Maybe experiencing other people’s bad days would put me in a better mood.
If that didn’t work, there was always the carton of ice cream I’d carefully placed in front of me alongside the huge glass of wine. I deserved a treat of my own.
I’d told myself I wasn’t going to be upset.
Not a single tear shed over the pinhead with the small dick.
Yet my eyes filled with them. I’d allowed that man to get under my skin.
That was never going to happen again. I was much stronger than to allow a man to influence or seduce me.
Maybe this was the point in the great, useless romance novel where the heroine swore off men.
Forever.
Block him from your mind. He isn’t worth your time. Scumbag asshole.
I glanced at several cute dog accounts, which usually put me in a great mood. Today, they came across as flat. I kept scrolling, barely listening to whatever was on the television, but the voices were certainly animated.
When the photograph of one hot man flashed across my phone, I allowed myself to drool a little. Why not? I was single now. The guy was tall, broad-shouldered with dark, wavy hair and holy crap, the bluest eyes I’d ever seen. He was simply gorgeous.
For a few seconds, I allowed a crazy fantasy to play in my head this was the man I’d kissed. No, who’d kissed me. Sadly, that just didn’t happen to a girl like me. I scrolled through the number of pictures, unable to keep my mind out of the gutter.
What was he, a hockey player? Well, duh, the hockey stick gave him away. Wait a minute. What a crazy headline from one of the national newspapers.
Chicago Sun: Is Saint ‘The Savage’ Masters, NHL’s Hottest Bad Boy a Werewolf?
Were they kidding? I chuckled and allowed a few additional wicked thoughts before continuing to scroll.
There he was again, this time without a shirt.
Holy moly. He was built and so, so hot. Wow.
I shifted in my seat, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable.
Why was my pussy throbbing? When I rubbed my finger across the screen, I closed my eyes briefly and laughed.
This man was the epitome of every girl’s fantasy. Tall, dark, dangerous, and rugged.
The headline was similar. I couldn’t help myself, clicking on the link. Of course, I’d have to search for the article on the People Magazine link.
He wasn’t worth all the effort.
However, I was curious. Why was the media crucifying him?
A flicker on television made me lift my head.
There he was again. I leaned forward, reaching for my wine. Saint ‘The Savage’ Masters. Whatever was being said, the photographs were of Mr. Masters with some of the hottest-looking women on the planet.
One after another.
Every single one looked like they just came off a runway in Milan for fashion week. I could never compete with women with perfect breasts and plastic tushies.
Saint in his hockey uniform.
Saint in a bathing suit basking in the Caribbean.
Saint in a tuxedo.
My panties were damp.
The breaking news bulletin forced a full-blown laugh. A highly respected national news agency was doing a full report on the possibility the poor man was a werewolf.
What in God’s name had the world come to?
Even though I’d sworn off men forever, The Savage didn’t deserve such unfounded bullshit.
Everyone knew there was no such thing as werewolves.