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Seems I’m not the only stalker. Nearly ten years later and I still can’t figure my way around her. No matter what she looks like now, she’s the same puzzle she always was. The only problem I’ve never been able to solve.
The realization pleases me more than it should.
“2010? You graduated from Harvard Law in 2010?” Poor Dalton looks like he’s seconds away from a full-systems meltdown. “How old are you?”
“year older than Hennie.” I look at her now, full in the face. “Twenty-six,” I say, enjoying the ugly red rash that crawls across her chest when I call her by the nickname she’s always hated. “If you manage to get in front ofJackson Howard, tell him Conner Gilroy says hi.” I shoot Dalton a cursory glance before refocusing on Henley. “I’ll see you later.” For some reason, it comes out sounding like a threat.
Turning away before either of them can say anything, I bounce my way down the hall. Jamming my key in the lock, I shove the office door open and slam it behind me.
I’m behind the desk, booting up the computer before the automatic lights click on. Within seconds I’m using the mouse to aim one of Declan’s security cameras at the place where I left her.
She still there, talking to that Dalton guy like I was never there. Seeing her like that, smiling and laughing with someone else, makes me angrier than it should. Makes me when a storm back in there, throw her over my shoulder and take her home.
Tie her to my bed and keep her there.
Forever.
Instead, I sit back in my seat and drink, watching her. Reading every word that passes over her lips while secretly hoping she says my name.
And you called Declan pathetic?
Jesus.
“Hello?”
I look up to find Sure-thing Kaitlyn, staring at me from across the desk.
I narrow my gaze at her. “What are you doing in here?” I mutter, annoyed.
“Uh, you grabbed my hand and dragged me in here.” She shakes her head at me, eyes wide. “I thought maybe—”
Huh. I don’t remember doing it, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t. Impulse control has never been my strong suit.
“I didn’t change my mind.” I cut her off, refocusing my attention on the screen in front of me. I watch as she makes her excuses to Captain Sweater Vest before weaving her way across the bar toward the office. Shit. “Unbutton your shirt and mess up your hair.”
“What?” She looks like she’s about two seconds away from throwing her drink at me.
Standing up, I yank the tongue of my belt loose and unthread it from it the buckle “I don’t have time to explain,” I tell her, jerking the button of my jeans open. “Unbutton your shirt and mess up your hair. Do it, and you and your friends drink for free for the rest of the night.”
She considers my offer for a few seconds before she sighs. Leaning over, she sets her drink on the desk in front of me. “Is this about that girl you were talking to?” she asks, reaching up to open the front of her blouse. When I don’t answer her, she just shrugs, raising her hands to shake them through her dark hair until it looks like she combed it with a wood chipper. “Now what?”
I glance at the screen. Henley is coming down the hall. “Leave.” Reaching out, I swipe a bunch of papers off the desk, knocking over the bottle of Jameson and Delcan’s precious filing system, destroying it in a flurry of invoices and receipts. I enjoy the destruction more than I should.
She turns toward the door, hand poised on the knob. “What am I supposed to tell my—”
“I really don’t care what you tell them.” I come around the desk, opening my zipper. “Tell them I fucked you so hard you suffered temporary hearing loss. Tell them I pulled you in here to drink coffee and talk about economics. I don’t give a shit. Just open the door.”