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27
‘She loved me for the dangers I had passed, And I loved her that she did pity them’
(Othello – Act 1, Scene 3)
Lena
I didnotstart on the next brief. In fact, I stayed for hours at my desk, staring at my screen and conjuring up all of these scenarios in which that bitch Sylvie was all over that douche-bagel, JJ.
By the time four p.m. rolled around, he’d fucked her too many times to count—in my head—while her shark-like smile taunted me. I was too sick to my stomach to eat any lunch, either.
What a pathetic, little idiot I am. I was mooning over my boyfriend’s father, who’s my boss. Just because he was nice to me last night and helped me with my presentation—after telling me to change it all at the last minute—I thought... I don’t know what I thought. That he felt something for me? That he and I would... What? Have a chance together? How did I allow things to get so out of hand? And I’m still Isaac’s girlfriend.
My stomach had bottomed out as my guts churned. If I’d sat there any longer, I’d have broken something, or been physically sick, or both. So, I opted to grab my bag, avoid the questions from my team on how the pitch had gone—which I’d managed to evade all morning—and marched out of the building. I raced home… To the dickwad’s home, that is, and found I was alone. For once, I was happy that Isaac wasn’t around. It meant I could indulge the anger I felt toward his father.
It meant, after a quick shower and changing into my pajamas, I could walk down to the cellar—which I’d heard about from the house staff—choose a couple of bottles of wine, and carry them back to the living room. It’s not even six p.m., but what-fucking-ever. After the day I’ve had, I’m entitled to get drunk. Speaking of, they went out to lunch at 11 a.m. and he’ s still not home? That motherfucking, dicksucking, sleazeball!
I pour wine into a glass and try to watch a movie, but my mind is racing. I can’t focus. How many times have the two of them fucked by now? And isn’t JJ getting along in his years? How often can he get it up anyway? I hunch my shoulders.
He’s gorgeous, though... and so hot. Like this wine, I’ll bet he’s only gotten better over the years. Bet he’s fan-fucking-tastic in bed. Bet we’d be incendiary together, given the chemistry between us.No, don’t go there. Stop it already.
I turn off the TV to play some music, but that doesn’t help, either. I settle for shutting down all sources of entertainment, and instead, proceed to get steadily drunk. At least the wine is top-notch. A vintage year, if I’m not mistaken. It must have cost a bomb, but fuck that. Bet the alphahole can afford that, and more. And why isn’t he home yet?
I pour another glass of wine, then sink into the armchair in front of the window. I glance out at the driveway and the tree line beyond it. I’m not waiting for him. I am not. I finish the glass of wine, top it up again, then yawn. Some of the tension drains from my muscles. It’s been a long day and I didn’t sleep that well last night, either. I finish off this glass of wine and set it aside. My limbs feel so heavy. I yawn so loudly that my jaw cracks. Maybe I can grab a quick shut eye while I wait for JJ... and Isaac… Yeah, I’m not waiting only for my boyfriend’s father, my boss, to return. I’m waiting for Isaac, too.What a lie.It’s not a lie. It’s not. I’m waiting for both of them to return. Meanwhile, I’m just going to shut my eyes for a few minutes.
The next thing I know, I’m being lifted and carried. Strong arms cradle me against a solid chest. I try to open my eyes, but my eyelids are so heavy.
"Isaac?" I murmur. There’s no reply. I turn my face into the sculpted planes. I draw in a deep breath, and the scent of sherry oak and cinnamon fills my senses.
"JJ?" I breathe. The muscles against my cheek seem to ripple. He still doesn’t say anything, though. This is so wrong. He shouldn’t be carrying me like this. I wriggle, and his arms tighten around me. I manage to crack open my eyelids and peer up to catch a glimpse of that sculpted jaw. I reach up and run my fingers over his five-o'clock shadow. He flinches but doesn’t pull away.
"You’re gorgeous," I mumble.
A chuckle rumbles up his throat. "And you’re drunk."
"Am not," I hiccup.Damn it.I bite the inside of my cheek and lower my arm, only to place my palm over his heart.Thud-thud-thud.His heartbeat doesn’t change as he mounts the steps of the staircase until he reaches the landing, then walks down the hallway and enters the room I share with Isaac. He approaches the bed and lowers me onto it. He begins to straighten, and I grab his tie. "Don’t go."
"You’re inebriated," he growls.
"Not enough." I hold his gaze as I search his features. The heat in the room seems to increase in intensity. A thousand little sparks of fire blow on my skin. "JJ—" I swallow.
His gaze narrows. He searches between my eyes, his expression predatory. A nerve pops in his jaw and I know he’s controlling himself as much as I am. Or, at least, as much as I was. I’m not exactly controlling myself now, am I?
He grips his tie and tugs it from my grasp, then stands.
The cool air rushes between us, and I shiver. Suddenly, I feel wide awake, like I’ve been roused from a dream. "Where were you all this time?"
He arches an eyebrow. "You know where I was."
"You spent half the night with that… that… trollop?"
"It’s barely midnight, and we spent some time discussing the pitch, yes."
"Took you most of the day to convince her to sign the account to us? You must be losing your touch."
His jaw tightens. He turns to leave, and I jump up on the bed.
"Stop, JJ."
