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Sure, I thought it was the thing for me at the time, but I was dead wrong, and I learned quickly that a man in my position is better off alone.
My only long-term relationship was with a woman —I can't even bear to think of her name without feeling sick to my stomach— I met five years ago. I wasn't in love, but I cared deeply, and I was sure she felt the same and not because I was deluding myself. She herself told me over and over that she loved me, and then one night at a party, I left her with a gaggle of friends to fetch her a drink and she let it all hang.
She never saw me coming back while she talked, and her friends —if you can call them that— never thought to warn her. After all, I was better single and available for them, as I would find out later that very night.
When asked if she was happy to date me knowing that I would one day be CEO, aside from a prominent corporate lawyer and, who knows, even the president of the firm, she answered that it would be better if my father took a turn for the worse sooner rather than later since his sudden death would leave the corporation into my sole hands without delay.
I ended things immediately and loudly and then spent the rest of the night prying her overly solicitous friends’ claws off my shoulders.
After that, there was no fucking way I would try again.
I’ve beenhappily singleever since —although, according to Maryssa,contentedly singleis a much better definition for my status and one that I should still consider changing. Not a chance in hell that's going to happen, though. I'll never be that stupid again.
While my father and Maxwell start to wander around the portico, talking and gesturing animatedly about business, I see Maryssa and Alina coming back, and I immediately sit up straight, feeling an unpleasant tension settling over me.
As soon as Alina takes a seat, I feel her hand on my thigh yet again, and I jump up.
“Really?! Even in front of my mother?” I ask in a hiss.
She shrugs. “Stepmother,” she murmurs like that’s any justification for her inexcusable behavior.
I roll my eyes, moving away from the table.
"Sorry, Mom, I'd better go. I doubt I'll be able to keep down the wonderful dinner you served tonight if I have to spend another five minutes with her. Tell Dad that something came up and I had to go and that I'll see him tomorrow in the office, okay?"
Maryssa sighs and stands on her toes to pat my back. “Sure, darling, go. Don’t worry. I’ll make your excuses to Max.”
I bend a little to deliver a kiss on her cheek. "Thank you. I apologize for leaving you with this…creature," I say, speaking loud enough to have my voice carry toward her as well. I don't care. I want her to hear. Maybe this will get the fact that I don't want to have anything to do with her through her thick skull.
Maryssa wrinkles her nose and waves my apology away with a flourish of her hand. "Not at all, Derek. I know how to deal with people of her ilk. It can even be fun if my son is not around to be tortured in the meantime," she says and smiles at me.
I chuckle, shaking my head, and walk away.
I'm sorry to be this rude to my parents and their friend, but really staying will have ended up with me being even ruder. I don't know for how long I could have remained seated without giving that social-climbing bitch a piece of my mind. I might be a lawyer and therefore used to displaying diplomacy and following rules, but her behavior is beyond the pale. There is very little that could have kept me quiet at this point.
I walk down the massive stone staircase, fish the electronic key of my Aston Martin out of my jacket's pocket, and I climb behind the steering wheel. My father won't ever hear of driving in the city, he keeps a chauffeur for this sort of thing and only allows himself to drive for pleasure, but I'm a different sort of animal altogether. I loathe limos and drivers. I want to be the one in control of my cars, and if this means bearing Boston’s nasty traffic, so be it.
Besides, it will only take me twenty minutes or so to reach my penthouse at this time of the night and thank God for that. I left for my office at five in the morning today, and Alina's unwanted advances have turned an already long and stressful day into something I can't wait to leave behind tightly closed eyes.
As I peel the Aston from its parking spot, I connect my cell to its intercom system and ask the virtual assistant to call my best friend.
I'm gonna need a date for this gala, and usually, Tasha's my girl, but this time I was so busy with work that I forgot to mention it to her. I hope she'll be free to come with such short notice 'cause I sure as hell don't want to spend the entire evening chasing off harpies only interested in snatching one of the bachelors from the fucking stupidMMBBList.
She answers, slightly out of breath and only after about seven rings.
“Derek, what’s up?”
"Hi, Tasha. Sorry to bother you. I hope I'm not interrupting anything…" I trail off.
She laughs. "Of course, you are, big guy. You always do. It's like you have a radar for this kind of thing. You sense someone's getting some, and you just come out to throw water on the flames," she scolds, but her tone is teasing.
I huff a breath. "Again, sorry. I'll let you go back to… whatever it is you were doing in a sec. I just need to ask you something."
“Sheesh, Derek! Whatever it is that I'm doing? You even forgot how to spell the verbfucking, didn’t you? You totally need to get laid.”
I chuckle. “Ha ha, very funny, Tasha.”
“So are you going to tell me why I’m standing naked talking with you instead of enjoying Didi’s much more pleasant…conversation?”
