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“Fuck you. I came here to thank you for helping me out. I don’t want to know what you did to have her back off the project. And I don’t want you to ever help me again.” I whirl around and march out of his apartment.
I push open the door to the stairwell because I won’t wait for the elevator with his gaze on my back. Though he shuts his door loudly enough for me to know he had no intention of doing that.
I storm through the lobby and the doorman rushes to open the door for me. “Have a lovely evening, Ms. Lowe.”
Is he provoking me as well? I growl at him with something unintelligible, but he seems unaffected. And I feel even worse than before.
I walk like a madwoman for several blocks before my head functions reasonably again. My anger slowly gives way to embarrassment. God, why do I act like an idiot around him? I might need to move out. Perhaps if I fucked him I might get my sanity back. Or I need to screw someone else.
That’s the whole point of going out tonight. I need to find myself a boyfriend. I’m not letting my dad worry about my lack of a love life.
I have plenty of sex life. Well, not lately, but that’s always the case leading up to a fundraiser when I’m the busiest, and I haven’t had a chance to rectify that. There must be someone willing to extend the sex part beyond the bedroom.
I hail a taxi and make my way to a club in SoHo I’ve heard about. I don’t go to any of my usual places because I don’t need to run into anyone I know. It might still happen, but chances are much lower.
Three hours later, I’m slightly drunk and definitely nowhere close to finding a man who could serve as my boyfriend for the next few months so I can pretend to fall in love. For my dad.
The poor bastard beside me is droning on about some stupid game he’s developed. He settled into his monologue after I gave him a series of yes and no answers in response to his dull questions.
This is the third guy tonight to buy me a drink, and the conversation goes in the same direction as the other two. Boring me. Seriously, I should pay for my own drinks instead of listening to this shit.
I’d have to spend time with my boyfriend outside the bedroom. Hence the conversations. Or a very pathetic attempt at it. Why are all the fun men either playboys or incapable of commitment? Or rather uninterested. I know why, because unattached is way more fun, but for the time being that’s not an option for me.
I look around, stifling a yawn. A group of men saunters in. They reek of money and entitlement. Perhaps a better option than the hipster beside me. One of them is Finn van den Linden. Shit. He’s a catch. I mumble something semi-rude to my companion, thank him for the drink and make my way to the five men at the bar.
Finn notices me and his face falls. “London, don’t ruin the night with your charitable causes. Come on, everyone, pull out your checkbooks and put your money to a good cause.”
They holler, but all of them oblige. I laugh. Well, dating him would be more fun than I hoped I’d have withmy boyfriend.
Finn collects the donations and puts them in my hand, swaying slightly. He’s drunk and kind of obnoxious. I grab the checks and shove them into my clutch.
“Why thank you for your contribution, gentlemen.” They all cheer and I face Finn. “I wasn’t going to ask you for money. You said no already, but thank you. I just wanted to have a drink.”
“Of course, what are you drinking?” He slurs his words a bit.
While he turns to get my cocktail, I realize there are several women already engaged in conversations with the rest of the group. All of them smiling at the men and glaring at each other.
“Here you go, London.” Finn hands me the margarita.
“Cheers.” I raise my glass. “Are you celebrating something?”
He snorts. “Surviving another day at the office, avoiding my father.” He downs his drink and sways a bit.
Okay, he really is drunk. I’m not that desperate, am I?
“Do you want to get out of here?” He studies me with glassy eyes.
Now, I might need to get laid, but he might fall asleep on the way to the bedroom. I smile brightly. “Another time, Finn.”
He winks, or maybe just squints, and turns to chat with one of the girls.
I nurse the drink for a moment, but the spectacle of female hunting bores me quickly. I don’t bother to say goodbye to the group.
I take a cab but get out two blocks away from my building. The city is as crisp as expected at this time of the year.
It’s lit up like a damn Christmas tree, because aside from its usual lights, the holiday decorations are everywhere. Each year they sneak up on us sooner. Next thing I know, they’ll erect the tree at the Rockefeller Center in the middle of summer.
Today, everything irks me more than usual. Perhaps there is a reason I always travel somewhere right after the gala.
