Destructively Alluring (3 page)

I saw the little hands rushing to pick everything up and was away from Monica so fast, I didn’t even realize I was moving until I was mere feet away from Demitra’s kneeling form. I had no doubt that she had just seen Monica and I. Heart pounding, I kneeled in front of Demi, intent on helping her. “Ms. Davis let me-”

“No!” Demitra cried, her panicked face rising just enough for me to see how red she was. “I…I mean, no thank you, Mr. Sorenson. I got it,” she said, adjusting her glasses and looking back down.

Something in my chest clenched at the sight. “I insist,” I said softly, picking up the scattered sugar packets and their holder. I dumped them into it and went to hand her the holder when our hands bumped.

Heat roared through me. There was no mistaking the way she recoiled away from me. Something in my stomach soured in response.

“I made the mess. I said I got it,” Demitra said softly, her face so red at that point that I was starting to get worried. She hurriedly put all the items back on the tray, then silently held it out to me, clearly waiting for me to place the sugar holder back on it.

It was then that I finally got a good look at her eyes. She was furious, there was no doubt. And-

Dear God, were those tears? She was blinking rapidly but I could still see the glossy sheen overcoming those baby-blues.

“I’m very sorry,” she repeated once I placed the holder back on the tray. She wouldn’t meet my eyes as she stared at the stain on the carpet. “I’m really sorry about the mess…” I saw her eyes flicker towards Monica. “And I’m very sorry for interrupting, too. I’ll go get some new coffee and I’ll call the carpet cleaners right away. My apologies, Mr. Sorenson.”

And with that, she was gone, jogging lightly out of the office before I could even think of saying anything.

I stood up slowly, eyes still frozen on where she’d just been and my thoughts racing.

I knew what Demitra had seen and what she was thinking. While I was a ‘free’ man and therefore had every right to touch whomever I wanted, the look in Demi’s eyes had seared me. Something in my gut felt wrong and the idea of that girl’s feelings being hurt didn’t sit fucking well with me.

Not one bit.

Just let it go. This is for the best. It’s better that she thinks you’re unavailable.

“Clumsy little thing, isn’t she?”

I turned, seeing Monica leaning against my desk and staring at her nails with a bored look. I’d almost forgotten she was still there. I bit back the surprisingly acidic remark I could feel bubbling in the back of my throat.

“Poor you,” Monica continued, oblivious to the hardening look taking over my face. “If she wasn’t Stephen’s daughter, you wouldn’t have to put up with that.”

I clenched my jaw, knowing that if I responded the way I really wanted to, I’d give her a reason to be suspicious. “I really do have things to attend to, Monica. I just don’t have the time right now,” I repeated, hoping she’d just take the damned hint.

“Fine,” Monica let out with a sigh, her eyes rolling upwards. “What time will you be around to pick me up tonight?” she asked, moving away from my desk.

The thought of going anywhere with her was quickly souring my mood but we’d agreed to attend together months ago.

“Six,” I answered, more curtly then I should have, walking back to my desk and sitting behind it without sparing another glance at her.

As empty-minded as Monica could be, she didn’t pick up on my coldness. Long after she’d gone, I sat at my desk, staring blankly at the stain on my carpet. It soon became apparent that Demitra wasn’t going to enter my office again unless absolutely necessary. My fresh coffee hadn’t even been delivered. All calls were promptly routed to me in a cold, professional manner and right before lunch, I was informed that the cleaning service would be by to assess the damage done to the carpet.

Right after, I was told that she’d be leaving for the day.

The moment I heard Demitra say that she was leaving early, I was out of my seat. I had no idea what the fuck I thought I was going to do, only that something in me was determined to not just let her leave like that. I exited my office just as Demi was standing up from her desk, purse in hand.

“Demi - tra. Can we talk?”

If the look on her face was any indication, talking to me was the last thing that she wanted to do. “I have to really go. I have to get ready and all that,” she said hurriedly, running around her desk and heading straight for the elevators.

I wanted to call out to her, tell her to wait. No, fuck that. I wanted to demand that she stop and listen to me. But what was I going to say? A wave of fury flashed through me. A deep seated feeling of impotence raged inside me as I took in Demitra’s back. She ran into the elevator the moment it got there and then she was gone.

Just like that.

I swallowed, jaw ticking. I almost turned and walked back into my office but something on her screen caught my eye. I turned back towards Demi’s desk, knowing that what I was about to do was wrong. Then again, what was obviously an open email on the screen could be work related, which at that point I was well within my right as her boss to read it.

But what if it wasn’t work related?

What else could it be, you dickwad? You’re losing your mind. Step away from her desk and get your ass back to work.

My guilty conscious was right. It was so fucking right. And obviously much wiser than me because I didn’t stop. Not even for a second. I kept going until I was leaning right over her computer.

I regretted it. Almost immediately. I told myself to stop reading as soon as I saw the subject line, but did I listen?

Of course not, I’m an idiot!

From: Keith Bennett

Subject: Can’t wait to see you tonight :)

Hey,

Wanted to check with you one last time. I’m going to be at your place around six. Is that ok? I’m guessing we can make it right on time for the whole thing to start.

I’m stuck in this damned meeting for the next half hour but I wanted to send you a quick email. I know you hardly ever check your phone while working.

Can’t wait to see you. Our date is the only thing keeping me sane today :p

-Keith

The one thing that distracted me from the intense focus I had on the screen was the loud sound coming from my right. And that sound just happened to be my fist.

Slamming down.

Hard.

So hard I was surprised that I didn’t dent the wood of the desk. I stared at my fist, on the verge of hyperventilating as another wave of rage flooded through me. I had no right to be angry. No right to the possessive torrent barreling through my veins.

I knew this.

I knew all the logical reasons why that email should mean nothing to me, why it shouldn’t affect me the way it did.

But it did.

It fucking did, ok?

I turned away from her desk, head pounding. I knew there was no way in hell I was going to be able to return to my work. Not with all the anger and questions burning through me.

Who was this Keith?

Were they seeing each other?

Where were they going tonight?

Was he fucking touching her?

Would she
want
him to?

Holy shit.

I exhaled roughly, pulling at my hair and staring at the ceiling of my office as I tried to bring myself under control. I was a thirty-one year old man. There was no room in my life for such juvenile emotions, damn it!

Jealousy isn’t juvenile.

Ok, fine, but what the fuck did I have to be jealous about?

Him. With her. Their date tonight. Whatever might be transpiring between them during said date.

What the fuck? Why the sudden turn around? Hadn’t that stupid voice in my head been talking me out of listening to my lust for her just two seconds ago?

I grabbed my phone off my desk, dropping it and my keys into my pocket. I had somewhere to be tonight, a very important benefit being held by a huge nonprofit organization that my company -amongst several others- was affiliated with.

I had no time to fixate on Demitra or
Keith
and what they’d be doing together.

Stupid asshole. Douchebag name. Fucking prick.

No time to fixate, huh? Yeah, good luck with that.

A
fter having my hair trimmed, I headed home to change. I hated having to cut my hair period but at the expense of sounding like a little bitch, it was something I had to do for appearances sake. One thing I missed about my childhood was being able to run around and not give a fuck about the unruly curls that were too long and hanging around my face.

Once at home, I picked out a Dolce and Gabbana black tuxedo and a white, pressed evening shirt. I’d already cut my hair for the fuckers, so there was no way I was forcing myself to wear a tie. I jumped in the shower and made sure to shave everywhere that needed to be shaved then finished getting ready. I was picking up Monica and while no part of me was excited about fucking her, it wouldn’t hurt to be ready just in case.

Women generally don’t like bushes anymore than men do, trust me. I’d been with enough women to know this and thanks to that, I’d gotten into the habit of keeping everything close to the skin. I didn’t even bother looking at my reflection as I slipped on my tuxedo jacket.

I didn’t really care how I looked outside of my cock area. That needed to be useful for Monica later but the rest she’d have to settle for. Maybe I was being a dick - no, I was
definitely
being a dick, but I just couldn’t bring myself to care.

Shall we examine why?

No, because I wasn’t going to think about it, thank you very much.

I rode the elevator down to the lobby, knowing that my limo driver would be waiting outside.

He’s probably touching her by now.

No, no,
no
.

Besides, Demi wasn’t that type of girl. She wouldn’t just…

She let you.

That’s me.

Cocky, aren’t we?

What the fuck was up with my brain today? Why was it turning on me worse than before?

“Good evening, Mr. Sorenson,” my driver said with a nod of his head while holding the door open for me.

“Evening, Carl. You have Ms. Addamo’s address, correct?” I asked as I neared the limo.

“Yes, Sir. All ready to go.”

I nodded my head at him and got in.

I tried to dredge up some excitement. But at the rate I was going, it would be a miracle if I ended up being able to get hard enough to fuck the woman at all.

Which made me fucking happy.

Yeah. Really fucking happy.

My night was getting worse.

Progressively
worse.

From the moment I’d picked her up, Monica had been in full high-maintenance-princess-mode.

And it was getting, as I said, worse.

“Dorian, you’re ignoring me.”

Monica, you’re annoying me.

I didn’t say this outloud, of course, but she’d been abnormally talkative since I’d picked her up and her voice kept interrupting my thoughts.

Or, more accurately, the relentless litany running through my head.

What is she doing with him?

Why do I even care?

You know why you care.

What are they fucking doing?

IS HE FUCKING TOUCHING HER?

“Dorian!”

“Monica,” I snapped back, not even bothering to hide my annoyance.

Her entire conversation had revolved around her and the magazine spread she was doing in a few weeks. Because she was the Vice President of a company that had nothing to do with fashion and still, she had the right to be a model. The hottest one on the scene in a long time, according to her arrogant rant.

Not that she wasn’t hot but it was
never
attractive when women spoke of themselves so arrogantly. Hell, that shit doesn’t look good on men, either. Confidence is one thing, complete cockiness another.

“What the hell is wrong with you today?” Monica huffed, arms crossed in annoyance.

I tried to swallow back the bitter taste in my mouth. I could’ve sworn I brushed my teeth before leaving the house but ever since she got in the limo things were tasting funny.

The very air surrounding me felt slightly tainted.

You are such an asshole.

I wanted to feel bad. Guess what? Yup, I couldn’t.

I tried to school my features back into a semi-pleasant expression. Tried to get the damned thoughts going through my head
out
of my head.

I swear, I tried.

He’s going to seduce her. There’s no way a man or boy wouldn’t try. God knows how long he’s actually been trying already or how long they’ve known each other. Eventually its going to fucking happen…

Obviously,
I kept fucking failing.

It was sheer insanity. The girl did not belong to me and even if she had, the possessiveness going through me was quickly turning psychotic.

Unbridled.

Illogical.

Idiotic.

“Dorian, you’re ignoring me again!”

“Monica, I’m sorry. I have a lot on my mind. I told you.”

Feeble, worthless apology, I know, but it’s all I can offer her considering my current mood.

“I deserve all your attention and if you can’t give it to me, trust me, I can quickly find someone else who will.”

There’s the princess again in all her brutal fury. I forced myself to remain silent as I looked out the limo’s window. My head was throbbing from the effort of holding my temper back. My tolerance for her narcissism was low tonight. In the past I’d somewhat indulged and been able to look beyond it but tonight was not the night to bombard me with her high-maintenance tendencies and I wish that she’d understand that.

“Dorian, I’m serious. I can find someone to replace you in my bed at the snap of my fingers-”