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“Welcome, Carly. Where ya from?” he asks, as I hand it over.
Before I get a chance to reply, he glances down at my license. “Brrr.” He mock shivers. “Spent a month one weekend in Buffalo. Ah. See you’re a Pisces. I’m a Sagittarius. Two compatible signs.”
I avoid the urge to sneer at the insult and avoid the come-on. And then I decide, fuck it, Carly 2.0 would sneer at someone being a jerk. So, I let the sneer out, belatedly. His laugh trails off and he straightens up.
“Just teasin’. You need anything, just let me know. I’m Seth.”
“Thanks, Seth.” I flip my caramel highlighted light brown curly hair over my shoulder with a bit of a bitchy flair, gather my ID and the envelope, then stride to the elevators and use my key to stab the button and make it light up.
Thankfully, it arrives immediately, and I don’t look back at Seth the Sagittarius security douche.
I’d had half a foot cut off my hair two days ago and added highlights and I still give myself a double take at my reflection in the mirror that takes up the whole upper half of the back wall of the elevator.
I open the envelope and there’s a note from Mr. Carmichael, along with a Visitor badge for Monday morning and a $50 gift card for a restaurant called Buchanan’s.
Welcome to San Diego, Carly.
We’re excited to have you on board. Enjoy your weekend and feel free to use this card to have dinner on the company at the steak house a few blocks away. We’ll see you Monday morning. My assistant will send you a text first thing with information about your transportation.
Cheers,
QC
Quinten Carmichael. CEO, Carmichael Consulting Intl
Nice touch.
2
AIDEN
“You’re a dirty bastard motherfucker. That’s what you are, Aiden Carmichael.”
Fuck, she’s angry. Angry shifts to evil as the nasty bitch smashes my phone screen against the corner of the granite breakfast bar, four times, and I don’t blink despite the ear-splitting repetitive sound. She tosses it in the direction of where I’m sprawled on the couch. It lands on the area rug.
Her face is twisted into an ugly expression. She looks rough, ten years older in broad daylight than she did last night. Her black eye makeup is in clumps and still all over her face, left over from the night before when I’d face-fucked her so hard mascara and tears left tracks down to her jawline. I’ve got a great snapshot of her gagging on my dick. Another of her bent over the coffee table taking my cock up her ass.
She was too polluted to notice me taking that front-facing snapshot when I pretended to check the time. What bitch doesn’t take notice when you stop to check the time while she’s giving you head? I suppose it’s what the girls I fuck have come to expect from me. They know better than to expect anything but cool indifference.
One side of my face twitches and I give her a cockeyed smirk.
“Thanks for the news flash, sweetheart. Not the first time it’s been said.” I shrug.
She whips a beer bottle from among the other dead soldiers on the counter at me. It bounces off the back of the couch and lands on me, not breaking, but dribbling backwash dregs all over my arm. I wipe my arm with the blanket that I’ve got over me. If I wasn’t looking forward to closing my eyes again and seeing the back of this bitch, I’d be tempted to retaliate.
I can’t let it go without at least a warning.
“Watch it, Bella.” I point at her with the bottle, then toss it to the table. It rolls off and lands on my rug.
“I deleted the sex video and the pictures, you asshole. I can’t believe you tried to pull that crap!” Bella hisses.
Oh yeah. I took video while I was doin’ her from behind out on the balcony, too. Why? Because this chick is a calculating bitch and doesn’t know that I know her game. Knowing her game, this is my insurance, so to speak.
Just the fact that she was in my phone at all lets me know I was right to take out my “insurance policy”.
She wasn’t only snooping in my phone, the bitch. But, I don’t tip my hand that I know what else she was doing.
I hear a key going into the door from the hallway.
