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Oh, fuck no. My annoyance explodes into full-blown anger.
I knew it. I just knew she couldn't help herself.
I specifically gave my mother my work phone number a while ago, after she had a heart scare. I instructed her to only use it during emergencies.
Giving it to some woman she wanted to set me up with isnota fucking emergency.
And if she's giving out my number to her friends like it's her god-given right, who knows how many people have it? Fuck, I may have to change my number. As much of a fucking inconvenience as that would be, it's the only option. I feel like I can't trust any incoming calls ever again, can't trust that they're the people I actually want to talk to. I feel like the sacredness of my work phone has been tainted.
“Don’t ever call this number again,” I grit out and hang up before I can take my anger out on the girl. It wouldn’t be fair. It’s not her fault my mother is a meddlesome hag.
I instantly dial her number. She must be expecting it because her tone is carefully mild when she answers. “Well, hello, Maddox. Nice of you to call once in a while. I was starting to think maybe I imagined having a son.”
“Are you giving my fucking phone number out to random women at your country club?"
She doesn’t even have the decency to deny it. "Not random women," she says in a sensible-sounding tone even though what she’s saying is utterly absurd. "Just my friend Analisa’s daughter. You remember Analysa Van Clein, don’t you? Her husband is the owner of—”
“I don’t give a damn who her husband is or what he owns. You give my work phone number out again, and it’s the last time you’re ever gonna get that privilege.” It might sound extreme but that's the only way I can ensure she doesn’t pull any bullshit like this again. After all, I could always give her my PA's number and have her call me if it's an emergency.
“You don’t give me any choice,” Mom says, and her voice is heated too. “You won’t bring a girl home and you refuse to even consider anyone I recommend. You’re thirty-eight years old and still screwing around.”
“And I can screw around if I damn well want to. I'm a grown-ass man. Besides, I brought someone home last Christmas. You just didn't like her.” She was an actress I met a while back on a work trip and I hired her to play the part of my girlfriend to get my mom off my back. Of course, she didn’t have a famous last name so she didn’t quite pass my mother's test.
“Please, we both know you weren’t serious about that girl," my mother says. "I could see it in your eyes. You didn't give a damn about her."
"Are you sure that's why you didn't like her? Or was it because her parents don't go to your country club?"
"Oh please. I'm not a snob, Maddox. At this point, I don’t really care who she is or where she comes from. I just want you to bring a girl home. Or boy, I'm not judging. Just...I just want you to be happy.”
I frown at the phone. Since when has my happiness ever mattered? “I’m happy, Mom. I swear I am. Now, you need to drop this bullshit of finding me a wife like we're stuck in the fifteen hundreds. In case you didn't notice, women were emancipated a while ago. Which means, they no longer need husbands. And I no longer need a wife. And don'tevergive my number out again. Or else.”
“Wait,“ she says before I can hang up. “You need to call your dad. He’s been asking about you.”
If there's anyone I hate talking to even more than a random stranger, it’s my dad. I only tolerate him during dinners when my mother can play interference. “I’ll call him when I’m ready,” I say. Which will be never. I've only had a total of five very short conversations with my father ever since my parents’ divorce. He pulled the old cliché of cheating on my mother with his secretary. And while I was angry for a while, I don't hold any animosity toward him anymore. It’s just awkward now because I have nothing to discuss with him. He was never much of a father, and pulling that shit, he only pushed me further away.
"Please, Maddox," my mom says. "He really wants to repair the relationship with you. Just do it for me."
"I said I'll talk to him when I'm ready." I hang up before she can say anything else. A restless irritation grows but I ignore it, burying it with work. I continue working in my home study until midnight When sleep eventually comes, it brings with it a nightmare where my mother ambushes me and traps me in a hall full of debutant daughters fluttering their eyelashes at me.
I wake up bathed in sweat and irritated. I don’t scare easily and most things don't phase me. That dream, however, I shiver just remembering it.
I should have guessed it was a bad omen.
I go through my morning routine and head for the office when I’m done. As I’m entering the Reign and Associates main building in the middle of the city, there is a high pitched noise behind me. “Maddox!”
Holy fucking hell.
I turn around in time to catch a tiny bundle of energy throwing herself into my arms.
My first instinct is to shove her off but I can’t do that. Her father recently bought a row of estates from me and he’s looking to buy a few more. He’s a priority VIP for our company. I don’t want to piss him off by being rude to his daughter. Instead, I gently set her away from me and hold her there.
“Nina,” I say, in the friendliest tone I can manage. “What are you doing here?”
“Seeing you, silly.” She beams up at me and folds her hands innocently in front of her, in a move that pushes her breasts together and shows off her impressive cleavage. It's the same cleavage that got me to sleep with her in the first place, against my better judgment. I don’t usually fuck with clients or client relations but I thought she knew the score. She seemed cool about the whole thing, even after the night we spent together.
But it appears my crazy radar failed me this time, because the woman turned out to be batshit after all.
And I know that despite me telling her firmly that nothing could ever happen between us, she’s still harboring fantasies. She shows up every once in a while trying to throw me off guard.
