Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 90346 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 452(@200wpm)___ 361(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90346 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 452(@200wpm)___ 361(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
“Oh, Travis. You’re going to fuck me against your office door? So hot.” She begins to unbutton her shirt and pull up her skirt, but I grab her hands.
“We’re done, Alyssa. I’ve had enough of your bullshit.” I pull the pictures from my pocket and throw them at her. Even if Viola wasn’t consuming my mind, I’d be ending this little arrangement anyway.
She glances down at the images and tilts her head back and laughs. “So you didn’t like my present? I’m so sorry. Let me make it up to you.” Alyssa continues to undress until her breasts are out. She walks toward me and runs her fingers down my arms. I grab her wrists and hold them tight at her side.
“Are you fucking insane? I don’t want what you have to offer. You don’t know how to listen. That’s your problem.”
“I hear you loud and clear,” she says with menace in her tone.
I release my tight grip and suck in a deep breath, trying to regain composure. I hate how she pushes me to my limit, causing all control to slip through my fingers. I’m two seconds away from picking her up and tossing her ass out. I don’t care if her Daddy owns the company or not. Instead, I inhale a deep breath and try to regain my composure, although I can feel it seeping through.
“I hope you love your job, King. Because after I tell Daddy how you took advantage of me I doubt you’ll have anything left.”
“Not even your father would believe your sick lies. Now get the fuck out of my office.”
“He doesn’t have to.” She bends down and grabs the pictures that are scattered across the floor. “I’ll just show him.”
My adrenaline spikes, and I’m so mad she’s threatening me that I grab her by the arm and pull her out of my office. At first she struggles, but the closer we get to the door, the more she realizes she’s not going to win. I throw her out and shut the door in her face, giving no shits that I’ve just started a battle I’m sure to lose.
Though I’m somewhat worried what she’ll do, I feel as if I can finally breathe for the first time in weeks, knowing I’ve left no room for misunderstanding. Being around her will get worse before it gets better, so if I have to finish this project alone, I will.
Fuck her.
No one controls me.
No one threatens me either.
I’m so pissed I can barely work. I open up the project, knowing damn well that I’ll be here later than usual again and that doesn’t make me happy.
I can’t focus for shit and that just adds to my frustration. This is exactly why I stayed away from relationships of any kind. Watching the way my father acted toward my mother tainted any feelings I had about being a “couple.”
I grab a stale bag of chips from the vending machine since I skipped lunch and my appetite has pretty much evaporated. As I sit behind my desk, staring at my screen and shoving the final crumbs in my mouth, I think about Viola and my mood instantly lifts. I fight the urge to text her, but hell, I need a pick me up, so I grab my cell and send her one anyway. I know anything that comes out of her mouth will make me smile. I know things didn’t end in a fairytale fashion last night and that she was seething, but that’s not going to stop me.
So on a scale from one to ten, how jealous is your vibrator? I smile after I hit send. It’s actually the first time I’ve really smiled all day.
Not jealous at all. It’s been places you can only dream of and I HATE YOU!
How sweet, just the response I was hoping for and now I’m definitely intrigued.
Is that so? Guess you’ll have to draw me a picture since it’s only something I’ve seen in my dreams.
Don’t be an idiot. It doesn’t look good on you.
Does that mean you think I look good normally then?
Shut up.
I chuckle, setting the phone down and getting back to work. My body is exhausted and as much as I fight it, I pull through for another hour. Once I call it a night, I back up my files and turn everything off. I walk out to my car, relieved to finally be heading home for the night.
The parking lot is practically empty and the warm glow of the setting sun reflects off the shiny black paint of the Challenger. As I unlock the car, I see FUCK YOU written across my back windshield in dark red lipstick. I’m fuming at the way she’s marked my car, but all bets are off when I notice every tire is flat. Alyssa wasn’t stupid enough to slash them, only angry enough to let the air out. Either way, it’s a big fucking inconvenience.