Chapter One
MICHAEL
What could I possibly say in my defense?
Well, I had to admit — I was never the dating type. No flowers, no wooing, no grand gestures. Sex was just that: physical, casual, uncomplicated. And maybe I really did forget the names of most of the women I slept with…
But that usually happened after a few days, sometimes even weeks — not the very next morning. I might not be the kind of guy who gets attached, but if there was one thing I could proudly call a strong asset, it was my memory.
And if I was good at remembering names, I was even better at remembering situations. Which made it all the more bizarre that I had absolutely no clue who that woman was… or how we ended up there, in...
Damn, where was I?
For God's sake, what room is this?
How much had I drunk last night?
I looked back at the woman, straining my memory to try to remember where I knew her from. Images flashed through my head.
I had arrived at the party, greeted that bunch of annoying minions from hell, and was immediately surrounded by some women, as was customary.
As much as I rarely turned down the idea of a good night of sex, employees at my company were out of the question.
My father had spent his life collecting problems thanks to his habit of getting involved with employees — and I definitely didn’t want that for myself.
But the red-haired woman in front of me, I was sure, was none of those.
I also had a great visual memory, modesty aside.
Not to mention that her red hair would be hard to forget or ignore.
I’d been through hell before even showing up to that party.
It had been a day filled with meetings with the company’s lawyers — who were currently handling a personal case for me. And the outlook wasn’t exactly promising.
Getting drunk after everything I heard was definitely not the smartest move, but I wasn't always a smart guy.
If I were, I wouldn’t have ended up in that situation to begin with.
Any of them, really. Not the one the lawyers were dealing with — and definitely not the one I was in right now.
I talked about it with this woman, I vaguely remembered it. I remembered her giving me some advice...
Or maybe she told jokes, I don't remember very well.
And apparently, I had had sex with her. Not that I remembered, but that was the only explanation for us waking up naked in the same bed.
Well, she was very pretty, so it was probably worth it.
“Oh my God...” was all she said, before rushing to put on her clothes.
Or maybe, judging by her reaction, it hadn't been so good.
“Where are we?” I asked again.
“It doesn’t matter,” was her sharp reply. “None of this matters, let’s just pretend it didn’t happen. Just don’t fire me, please.”
“You work for me?” Fuck! Had I really gotten involved with an employee then? What a huge pile of shit...
“Just pretend nothing happened, okay?” She finished putting the dress on her body and started looking around, looking for something. Until she ran to a corner of the room, grabbed a bag and left.
She left as if she was running away from a demon.
Seriously, had the night been that bad?
I lay back down on the bed, closing my eyes and trying to recover from that mix of sleep and hangover. My level of mental confusion was far beyond any other drinking session in my life.
However, little by little, I started remembering some things from last night.
That woman... I remembered seeing her alone at the bar, drinking one drink after another...
Yes, that was it, I was quite sober at that point.
After I first saw her, I think it took me over an hour before I decided to join her. I had my reasons for getting drunk, and apparently so did she, which is why I started the conversation.
Yes, that part was very clear. I remembered exactly what our first words had been.
“Look, I don't know you and I know this is none of my business, but... Aren't you drinking a little too much?” I asked, a little startled by the speed at which she was downing one shot after another.
She raised her glass towards me and replied without even looking at me, “It's all on the company's dime. And I want to bleed that son of a bitch CEO dry.”
Surprised by such a sincere comment, I found myself momentarily speechless. I believe she realized this, because she finally turned her face toward me, looking at me and recognizing me. However, instead of being embarrassed, she laughed.
She simply laughed. And she added, “Oh my God, you're the son of a bitch!” She drank the contents of her glass in one gulp and continued laughing.
I think she was really drunk ...
But, fuck it, she was right. I was a real son of a bitch and I could use a drink too. I asked the bartender to serve me the same thing she had, and I downed it, immediately ordering another shot. The drunk girl next to me seemed curious about this.
“Wow... had a bad day, huh?”
“It's been a bad few days, actually.”
“What kind of bad day would a guy like Michael Turner have?”
“Can't you think of anything?”
“I may have some guesses.”
“Go ahead, then.”
She took another sip, before she started guessing, “Did you run out of champagne in your limo? Did you want to trade in your helicopter for a more modern model, but they didn’t have the color you wanted?
Did you want to spend the weekend at your mansion in Hawaii, but the weather forecast said it was going to rain? ”
That wouldn't be a problem for me. My house in Hawaii has an outdoor area with an indoor pool.
But maybe commenting on it would make me seem as snobbish and vain as she thought I was.
And I didn't even have a limo.
I thought it was kind of tacky, to tell the truth.
“Just because I’m rich doesn’t mean I don’t have real problems,” I retorted, watching as the bartender poured us two more shots.
“Are you dying?” she asked suddenly.
“Oh, no.”
“Is someone in your family dying?”
“No.”
“Is your dog dying?”
How did she know I had a dog?
“No, my dog is fine.”
“Then it can't be anything that serious.”
“Are you dying, by any chance?”
“There are an infinite number of problems I can have.”
“So why would my only problem be someone dying?”
“Because it’d be the one thing you couldn't pay off. Anything else, I bet your money would be more than capable of paying for.”
I wish she was right. But she wasn't, for the reason I explained:
“Not everything in life can be bought with money.”
“It's the kind of thing that people with money usually say.”
Until recently, I would’ve corrected her by saying that those who said that kind of thing were, in fact, uninformed people. Because, to be quite honest, I also used to believe that money could buy absolutely anything.
Until I found myself in the shitty situation I was in at that moment.
“Would your problems be solved with money?” I asked.
She seemed to think for a moment.
“A good portion of them, yes. If I were a millionaire heiress like you, I wouldn't have to suffer waiting for a promotion and seeing some son of a bitch steal it from me.”
I noticed that she swore a lot. Not that it bothered me. But I was used to women who, in my presence, tried to maintain a more cultured-educated-nice-girl attitude. Of course, that was before I took them to bed, where they became real sluts.
I thought about how that dirty little mouth must behave while fucking someone.
I could try to find out, but I wouldn't do it for two reasons.
The first was that she was an employee of my company, which was something that was kind of forbidden for me, according to my own rules.
And the second was that the woman was completely drunk.
I took another shot. With how strong it was, maybe it wouldn't take long for me to caught up to her.
Well, to tell the truth, there was one more reason for me not to try anything with the girl next to me. I was in the process of making changes in my life, and these included being less of a party animal and less of a womanizer.
Since it was a company party, I felt I could afford to drink a little too much.
I made a mental note that the company should have parties every week. I would put that on the list of changes to make.
As I watched the bartender pour me another shot, I refocused my attention on what she had just told me.
“What do you mean someone stole your promotion?”
“He's still my superior... In fact, he's even more superior now.
That's why I can't report him, otherwise he might want revenge.” She turned the glass over, which seemed to have given her an extra dose of courage.
Or a lack of awareness of danger. “Oh, fuck it, I'll tell you! That son of a bitch Victor Smith presented my project as if it were his own.”
“Are you talking about the condominium project? Is it yours? Wow, it’s great.”
“I know. And it was a lot of work.”
“I'm going to talk to Smith tomorrow and he's going to have to explain this situation to me.”
“If you tell him I told you, he might fire me.”
“The only one who can fire someone in there is me. And I don't intend to fire anyone.”
“Not even Victor Smith?”
“Not even Victor Smith.”
“Geez ... You really are an asshole.”
Again, I wasn't expecting the impolite term to be addressed to me. I had never been treated that way by a woman, much less by an employee at my company. But I didn't care much about it. I guess I was getting drunk enough to start seeing it as a bit natural.
What was not natural was how that initial conversation at the bar had evolved into the two of us waking up naked sharing the same bed.
For starters, she called me an asshole. And in a very unsexy way.
My head hurt, filled with fog, and I couldn't remember the sequence of that conversation anymore. I tried to force my memory a little, but nothing came up.
I decided, however, that none of that mattered. I didn't want to sleep with an employee, but it was done now, nothing could change that.
Life goes on...
And mine, in this case, had a lot to go on.
I got up, picked up my clothes that were thrown on the floor, used the bathroom in the room, got dressed and left. In the hotel parking lot, I got into my car and soon realized that I wasn't in a good enough state to drive.
“What the hell,” I grumbled, feeling my head spin a little.
It was a good thing that the place wasn't that far from my house. Still, I’d have to be extra careful and drive really slowly. The last thing I needed in my life was to get into an accident or get a ticket.
“I need to be a fucking exemplary man...” I grumbled, alone.
That had practically become my mantra for the past few weeks.
Before starting the vehicle, I took a look at my cell phone.
And my head hurt even more when I saw the number of messages that had accumulated since last night.