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Money wasn’t the problem.
It was losing my purpose. Without my work, what would I be? There was a time I thought I was the sort of guy who would make a good husband. I’d seen myself as the young, hard-working businessman who was almost ready to settle down. Then Annabelle happened and it all seemed to come full circle on me. No sane woman was going to settle down with me. No woman who wasn’t looking to use me, at least. So I shifted my focus into my work.
It was rewarding enough. I worked with the Pollards to streamline every aspect of their operation. I was good at it, too. That was enough, wasn’t it? So what if I didn’t have a white-picket happily ever after? I was working hard at something I was exceptionally qualified to do. Just in the last quarter, I’d helped Pollard Marketing make its biggest jump in profits ever. I’d guided the Pollards into hiring an entire staff of computer engineers to overhaul their client interface, which led to several multi-million dollar accounts signing on.
Even if Alec Pollard seemed to disagree with the direction I was leading his brother and their company, I should’ve been happy. I should’ve been terrified of losing what I was building here more than anything. Even if there would be other clients when my time at Pollard was done, this was my resume. It was my legacy.
Why, then, did I seem to be hell bent on testing the limits every chance I got? Why was I thinking of nothing but Pearl and how deeply I’d enjoy just one night alone with her–one night to teach her how good it could feel to let me have my way?
Because I was an idiot. That was why.
“What are you smiling about?” Pearl asked.
“Hm?” I didn’t realize she’d opened her eyes. “I was just thinking of the future.”
She made a dismissive noise and went back to ignoring me.
And me? I started looking forward to our dinner that night.
16
PEARL
I rolled the kinks out of my neck while I waited in a fold-out chair in one of the big conference rooms at the hotel. The entire staff was there and the din of conversation had risen to a loud hum as we waited for the speaker.
Marley was beside me messing with her phone. “You know,” she said after a while. “As far as work stuff goes, this thing really hasn’t been so bad. I mean this is like the first real ‘work’ meeting we’ve had to do since yesterday. I can live with that.”
“Yeah,” I agreed, although my time had been so consumed by surviving Dean, I wasn’t sure I felt the same way. Being here felt like a battle for survival, and I still had our dinner to get through tonight.
“Are you going to tell me about your luxurious spa day with your perfect boyfriend? It was this morning, right?”
“It was nice, yeah. We really enjoyed ourselves.”
“You look amazing. Super refreshed.” She got a devious look in her eyes. “You two fucked, didn’t you? That’s a fresh out the bed kind of look if I’ve ever seen one.”
“Oh, no way,” I said a little too vehemently.
Marley’s brows scrunched.
“I mean, last night. Yeah,” I said quickly, then regretted it.
She smiled wide, giving me a theatrical wink and a nudge. Then she sat back and got a dreamy look on her face. “Man. I still can’t believe you landed a guy like that. I mean, not that he’s out of your league or something. That’s not what I meant. I just meant like, that guy. He’s like bigfoot or something. You see him on TV, and one time, you think you even spotted him when you were taking a piss by your tent on a camping trip, but you don’t actually believe he’s real. I mean, big foot is definitely real, but I’m just making a point. And I’m rambling,” she added when she saw the look on my face.
I laughed. “He’s just a guy. I mean,” I added. “I really like him. But he’s not some mythical creature.”
“Oh, he’s mythical.” Marley let out a wistful sigh. “And if you’re so unimpressed with him, I’ll happily take him for a spin. Jacob from HR has been hitting on me nonstop this trip. I’ll trade you, if you want. Jacob for your man beast.”
I grinned. “Who?”
Marley pointed to the other side of the room where a guy with a thinning hairline and wisps of wild, stringy hair standing up was looking our way. He saw us looking, flashed yellowing teeth, and waved.
“I present Jacob. Still want to convince me your meatstick is nothing special?”
I snorted. “God. Please don’t call him a meatstick.”
“I’d use him like one,” she said, wiggling her eyebrows.
I rolled my eyes, feeling a fresh pang of guilt for not telling her the truth about him. I just had to remember it was for her own good, not because I wanted to keep secrets. I didn’t want my friend getting dragged down with my mess. “Well, did you know he’s the one speaking?”
