“I’m shooting for first,” Kyle said with a nod and a wink toward Brenda. “But I’ve always been a bit of an overachiever.”
I refused to sit there any longer and watch their little dog and pony show while being inadvertently thrown under the bus.
And Wilder?! What the fuck?!
A storm raged inside me. My blood boiled. It may have been gray and rainy outside, but I could only see red.
“Addison? Where are you going?” Brenda called out. All eyes turned to me as I lunged for the door.
“Oh, um, I have an important meeting with a client.” I glanced down at my watch. “I don’t want to be late.”
I wanted to add that some of us actually worked their asses off rather than bullshitting and schmoozing with the right people and fucking our way to the top.
I headed to a quaint little Italian spot in Tribeca to meet Diane Abernathy, my sweet divorcée client. I just hoped she would cool it on the horrible ex-husband talk that night. She usually got off on a tangent and worked him into the conversation any chance she got, but I wasn’t in the mood to talk about men or relationships or marriage or any of that.
I wanted to talk about condos and penthouses and apartments and townhomes. Architecture. Designers. Sale prices. Market analyses. Leases and purchase agreements. Those were the things I loved. The things that drove me. The things I understood. There was nothing complicated about any of them.
“Darling, you look ravishing!” Diane said as I greeted her at our corner table. Diane had bought and sold with me more than any other client, and now that she was divorced with a huge settlement coming her way, she was about to make her biggest purchase yet.
We kiss-kissed and I sat down, basking in the warmth of Diane’s company and breathing in the tranquil cloud of her Quelques Fleurs perfume as she threw a half dozen compliments my way, mostly about my clothes and hair. It was good to forget about life for a while.
“Oh, gosh, I’m sorry,” I said as my phone went off in my purse. Silencing it the moment I saw it was Wilder calling, I turned back to her. “Now where were we?”
He called again.
Ignore.
When I finished with Diane and we went our separate ways, I checked my phone. One voicemail. One text. Wilder hated texting.
WHERE ARE YOU? I NEED TO SEE YOU. NOW. PREFERABLY NAKED.
I wanted to fire back and tell him it was none of his business, but my furious mindset would’ve led my fingers to type something even worse. How dare he act like nothing happened, like he could just chose Kyle over me and expect me to jump into bed with him?
Fuming, my blood boiling at a rapid pace, I fired off a text.
FUCK. OFF. WILDER.
Send.
As I walked home, I could have sworn steam blew from my red hot ears. The brisk evening air on my face helped keep the tears at bay, but it was only a matter of time before they’d creep up on me again.
I knew better.
I knew better. I knew better. I knew better.
Getting involved with Wilder had been a mistake. It was only supposed to be one night. And then nothing.
When I eventually rounded the corner to my apartment, I rode the elevator to my floor and stopped short the moment the doors parted. A very attractive man in a navy blue suit was seated on the floor in front of my door.
“What are you doing here? I thought I made it clear when I told you to fuck off.” I crossed my arms as he stood up. He towered over me as he stepped into my space, making me feel small and powerless in his presence.
“I need to explain,” he said. “Can I come in?”
I wanted to kiss her so bad on her heart-shaped lips the color of two red roses. I wanted to kiss away the dried tears on her cheeks.
But two things prevented that from happening: she was livid with me and I didn’t want her to know I was starting to fall for her. If she knew the way I really felt about her, she’d never talk to me again. Feelings were never part of the deal.
She consumed my every thought, proving that I was wrong all along. I was capable of feeling again. My heart wasn’t permanently ruined. Banged up, scar-tissued and slightly mangled, maybe. But it was still bleeding red. The ice was thawing, and Addison was the warm sun.
She pushed past me, jamming her key into the lock and asserting her way into her apartment. I stood in the doorway, unsure if I was being invited in and watching as she threw her purse on a chair and slammed her keys on the counter.
She spun around, golden hair spilling down her face in an uncharacteristically disheveled fashion. “You going to explain, or what?”
I closed the door, stepping toward her and resisting the urge to cup her pretty face.
“The reason I picked Kyle,” I said, drawing in a long, slow breath, “is because choosing you would be a huge conflict of interest.”
“How so?” One perfectly arched brow raised above one teary eye. “You and I aren’t dating, Wilder. There’s nothing between us.”
“Two things you should know about me right now,” I said. “I have two very distinct, very significant interests.”
“Which are?”
“Real estate,” I said. “And you.”
She pulled away, stepping out of the tension that enveloped us, and cocked her head to the side as her brows furrowed. “Wilder…”
I pulled her back toward me, resting my hands on the dip above her hips. “I’m not saying I love you, Addison. I’m not saying I’m your boyfriend. I’m not even saying I want to date you. But this thing we’re doing? Whatever you want to call it? I love it. I can’t stop seeing you. Not yet.”