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"Michelle, don't lie to me." She snorts. "I saw his picture in Forbes; he's tall, fit, and sexy, with those sly, almost black, slanted eyes of his. He's gorgeous! He's a billionaire with the face of a model. He's everyone's type!"
"Not mine! I'm engaged, remember?" I remind her, feeling my knees get weak just from thinking about Christopher.
Yesterday, he stood next to me to check something I'd written, and when I inhaled his scent, I completely lost my ability to speak. I had to excuse myself and go to the bathroom to calm down. When I came back, he was already flirting with some blond supermodel who came to his office to 'check if he was available for lunch.'
I hate the women he dates. They always think they're so special that they don't have to even sayhelloto other people in the office. Moreover, women like that make regular women with short legs look like dwarfs, and it's another reason for me not to like them.
"Yes, I remember, hun, but you're not a nun. You may love your boyfriend and still be attracted to another man; that's okay," she continues in that calm tone of hers as if she's a psychologist, not a wedding planner.
"I know it's okay, but I don't like Christopher, not even a little," I say sternly, and I wonder why I’m angry at her. Am I trying to convince her or myself? "I love Michael. He's sweet. He cooks for me. He likes to watch romantic comedies because I love them so much. He doesn't complain that I work so much. He's perfect."
"Yeah, you're a lucky bitch," she laughs, and I finally smile for the first time in days. "I wish I'd meet someone as half as nice as Michael."
"You'll meet a perfect guy one day, babe," I assure her, and I'm being honest. She's intelligent, sexy, and beautiful; why wouldn't she, right? "Great happiness comes in small steps, remember?"
A pause comes before she finally says, "I love you, you know?"
"I know. I love you too. Hope to see you soon. Kisses."
"We'll see each other on Saturday," she adds quickly before I hang up.
"This Saturday? Why?"
"Are you serious, hun? It's your engagement party!"
Shit. She's right. How could I forget?
"I completely lost track of time. I should blame myself, but I'd rather blame Christopher."
"Good girl. Kisses!" I hear her laughing before ending our call.
I have already agreed to work this weekend. Christopher wanted us to come see the hotel. Usually, I would decline an offer to spend three whole days—and nights—with my boss in the same hotel, but the renovation is almost over, and I can't wait to see the results. I've worked too hard for this.
I snort loudly, angry at myself for forgetting about the party. I don't even have a dress yet. And now I have to tell my boss that I won't be able to come. Will he agree to come next weekend or during the week? Maybe I could reschedule our party? Although it would be the third time.
No, I won't do that. Christopher has to sacrifice this time. When I asked him to go during the weekdays, he said he's too busy because he has lots of work. What a jerk! As if I'm not working at all, waiting until he agrees to show me that hotel!
No, I won't sacrifice my relationship with Michael; it is more important than my job!
Right?
I can't think about it anymore because I have to finish my drink. I try to gulp my coffee down even though it's hot. I'm already a little late for my meeting with Charlotte.
My phone beeps, and I take a look at the screen, utterly sure that it must be Christopher, wanting to add more work to my overloaded schedule.
But it's an unknown number, and there’s a picture attached. I open the message, and the cup of coffee slips from my hand to the ground as I look at multiple photos of my fiancé fucking his secretary—his male secretary—from behind, right at his office table.
Chapter Three
Christopher
Michelle is not answering my calls. I've been texting her all morning, and after I didn't receive a response, I decided to call. No answer. I told my assistant to call that curtain store Michelle was supposed to visit, and the owner, Charlotte, confirmed that they had a meeting, but Michelle didn't show up. She never does that. Something happened.
When I first saw Michelle entering my office, I only thought about her as a woman I'd like to fuck. She was beautiful, sexy, and had a charming smile. When I saw a ring on her finger, I knew I should stay away from her, but it didn't bother me. I have plenty of women to sleep with; I thought I’d be able to stay away from my female interior designer.
Yeah, that's what I thought in the beginning. As it turned out, Michelle is not just some woman. She isthewoman. She's smart; she does her job brilliantly and always sooner than I requested. She's funny in a good way; she has a very selective sense of humor, and she doesn't like stupid jokes or sitcoms, just like me.
Yes, Michelle is incredible and seems like she gets only more beautiful every day, but it's not just that. She's the woman I never get tired of talking to, no matter how fiercely we argue. She's the woman I want to see again the second she walks out of my office. She's the woman I not only want to have sex with, but I want to sleep next to and wake up next to every morning.
