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“I never said I was the hero in this story, you made the assumption.” - Thorin
For all the talk of how mollifying and passionate I am, no one ever remembers the anger I constantly wrestle control with. The romantic side of me is a mask most of the time. Very rarely do I get to shed it and breathe on my own.
With all that said, the tabloid currently sitting on my desk is of me, passed out due to being drugged by someone at my birthday party–and let’s not even get started on how fucking pissed I am someone slipped GHB into my drink–is telling the world, while I was at my most vulnerable, that I’m a drug addict who has a taste for whores.
Sorry,escorts. Because putting a classier name over the same damn job is really going to make a difference to people.
Aillard and King, my two best friends, are set to appear soon and render the news that my ex-wife wants me to rot in hell. Not that I particularly blame her. All she’d ever done wrong was love me at both my lowest and highest.
I know she’ll say no. I would if I was in her shoes.
My gaze inadvertently travels back to the tabloid again as I pace my office in New York’s most distinguished luxury hotel.
Why is all of this happening now? My birthday was almost five months ago, yet the media is parading it around like it was merely yesterday.
Holly, my newest assistant, throws open my office door, slams it shut and presses her back against it like she’s barricading me from an invading army.
I raise my eyebrow at her in question.
“There’s a woman out there,” Holly stage whispers while her short brown bob flies into her face. She quickly reaches up and tries to make herself look presentable. A part of me wants to tell her that the men’s suit she’s wearing looks four sizes too big, but I’ve come to understand that Holly likes to hide her beauty from the world and who am I to stop her?
“Can you repeat that?” I ask, already forgetting what she said thanks to the horrific pinstripes I now see on her suit jacket.
“There’s a woman out there in reception demanding to see you.” Holly winces.
Is it Bex? My shoulders straighten and my heart begins to pound loudly in my ears. Fuck. What’s she doing here? Is she coming to ream my ass about King’s appalling offer? “I’ll speak with her.”
Holly gives me a look that tells me I definitely donotwant to do that. But if it’s Bex, I most certainly do. Is it a wise decision? Absolutely not. But Bex is never a topic that breeds wise decisions from me.
“Send her back here.”
Holly hesitates. “She’s a little scary.”
My interest piques. Bex is usually very timid and shy. When she’s comfortable, she’ll say what she means but never in such a public fashion to make someone uncomfortable. Perhaps she’s changed. Hardened.
I wouldn’t blame her for changing and shutting most of the world out after what King and Aillard did to her. What Iletbe done to her because I was a fucking prick with my head too far down in the sand to realize how to grow a pair of balls and say what I want.
“Holly, send her back.”
My assistant sighs, removing herself from the back of my door and straightening her clothes like she’s mentally putting on armor. Her back straightens and she gifts me with the fakest, brightest smile she can muster. “Right away, Mr. Ravenscroft.”
She disappears beyond the door, giving me an ample amount of time to check and see if I’m having a heart attack. I press two fingers to my neck and check my pulse. Fuck, my heart is still racing.
A moment later, Holly knocks twice before opening my door, gesturing like the woman has won a new car and it’s inside my office. If she wasn’t such a fantastic personal assistant, I’d fire her for her overdramatic attitude when she’s being sassy. When the temp agency sent her over, I knew immediately that she was going to stick permanently around here. She didn’t care about me personally, but loved to organize everything around her and who better to keep organized than a billionaire?
Impatiently, I wait for Bex to round the corner into my office, but a nightmare appears in a tight black dress and red vixen heels. Her dyed auburn hair curled to the max. Her eyes locking immediately on me with a fierce determination I don’t have time for.
Holly slams the door closed; her passive aggressive way of telling meI told you so. I should have listened.
“Thorin!” She flashes her teeth at me and looks around my office with interest. There’s new paint, new furniture, neweverything. Holly full heartedly agreed with King that I was working in a blue disco ball and it needed to change promptly.
There’s a soft gray paint on the walls now, white trim, artwork, and recess lighting. She tossed my mother’s favorite chandelier, which I’ll be forever grateful for. The thick, plush brown leather couches situated by the door for a comfortable meeting space with an arch cutout further back where my actual office desk, cabinets, and books lay.
But this woman isn’t getting further into my office than she currently is. She’s not welcome here. Last year she applied for a job position at the hotel on a whim, for what reason I don’t know considering I don’t think Jessica has a working bone in her body. She came here with a purpose, but I told Human Resources to toss the application and interview she’d done, which they had already succeeded in doing after finding someone better qualified, thankfully. The last person I want hanging around here is my ex-fiancée in the wake of Bex potentially entering my life again.
I know she’s going to blow me off so I don’t know why I keep trying to hype myself up thinking she’ll appear.
I barely manage to resist baring my teeth in a feral snarl as I snap, “What are you doing here, Ms. Lancaster?”
