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6
SCARLETT
My father sat across from me in the office as he worked on his tablet.
His assistant walked inside and tapped him on the shoulder. “Theo is here to see you, Dante.”
“Great.” He kept his eyes on the tablet. “Tell him I’ll be there shortly.”
She walked out.
My father emailed me a set of documents. “I’ll be gone for the rest of the day. Theo and I are meeting our new partners. Once we get everything in order, things should move smoothly.”
“So…does Axel know?”
“I dismissed him a week ago.”
I shouldn’t care whatsoever. He’d been out of my life for months, but now we’d officially severed all ties. A part of me wondered if he’d been blindsided by my father’s decision…if he was angry. “He was fine with it?”
My father raised his chin and looked at me. “What else would he be?”
“I—I don’t know,” I said. “He did a good job.”
“Well, Theo will do a better one. Axel has plenty of other business ventures to keep him busy, Scarlett. There’s no hard feelings.”
“I know things weren’t going well for us before Axel helped us?—”
“It’s done, Scarlett.” He didn’t raise his voice, but his tone suddenly turned sharp as a knife. He stared at me like he might start to twist that blade and heighten the tension between us.
I saw the warning in his eyes, the potent irritation. “You don’t need to hate him on my behalf?—”
“I hate him for my own reasons, sweetheart. I’m glad our business relationship has concluded. Neither one of us will need to hear or see that bastard again.”
I felt that same urge again, the urge to defend him, when it was unwarranted. Axel didn’t deserve my defense, didn’t deserve my empathy. Nothing. He’d talked about us having kids together like we would be together forever, but less than a week later, he was fucking someone else.
I shouldn’t give a shit…but I did.
“Hello, beautiful.”
I looked up when I heard the deep voice, knowing exactly who it belonged to. Theo stood in front of the table, wearing a black leather jacket that was dotted with waterdrops. The weather outside was a downpour. It started last night and was still going strong, flooding most of the streets and staining all the windows with streaks like the glass door of a shower. “Hey, handsome.” I flirted back even though it was disingenuous. I’d made a move on him—a lot of moves—and he didn’t take the bait.
He sat across from me, espresso eyes regarding me. “What are you doing tonight?”
“Falling asleep to the sound of the rain.”
“You like this weather?”
“I prefer summer, but I guess I don’t mind it.”
“I love it.”
“I figured. That’s what all men say.”
“You want to get dinner?”
“Why?”
He stilled at my question, his sharp eyes focusing. “Eat. Talk. That sort of thing…”
“And then you fuck afterward,” I said. “But you don’t seem interested in that.”
A smirk spread across his face, despite his attempt to force it back. “Believe me, I am interested in that.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Why would I lie?”
“Why would you turn down a woman who asked you to fuck her?”
“You didn’t ask me to fuck you?—”
“Maybe not in those exact words,” I snapped. “But now I am using those exact words. Do you want to come to my place right now and fuck me? You’re cordially invited.”
The smirk returned, and he turned to look out the window.
“That’s what I thought.”
“Just think we’re rushing into it?—”
“There’s something you aren’t telling me.” I closed the laptop so it was easier to stare at him across the table. “I admit I’m not the supermodel-double-zero-with-big-ass-fake-tits type, but I’ve got an ass you can sink your teeth into and I fuck as hard as I get fucked, so no straight man is going to say no to that.” My arms moved to the table. “So…what is it?”
“If this were reversed, you would be an asshole.”
“But it’s not reversed. I told you exactly what I’m interested in. No relationship. Just a good fuck or two. But you asked me out anyway. I think you’re the asshole.”
He smirked. “Fuck, you’re killing me.”
“How am I killing you?”
“That spice, man…”
“If you like it so much, why won’t you take me up on my offer?”
His eyes moved back to the window, which was being pelted with rain.
“You’re married?”
“No.”
“You’re gay?”
He laughed. “Nope.”
“Girlfriend?”
“No.”
“Then what is the problem?”
He continued to stare outside, watching the rain streak down to the ground. “I think you’re still hung up on your ex.” He turned back to look at me. “And I don’t want to mess with that.”
“I’m not hung up on him,” I said. “And even if I were, what does it matter?”
“It just does.” He stared at me, his elbow propped on the table, his fingers against his chin. “How about you make me dinner tonight?”
“I only make dinner for a man if he makes me come afterward.”
