My last words to my ex run through my mind as I step into the Madison Hotel bar. I stop for a moment to address my outfit, a black pencil skirt with a shiny belt wrapped around my waist, giving my figure a shapely appearance, and a pearly white blouse. I scan the room, noting it’s filled to the brim with business people, and wonder if I should head back out into the lobby to collect myself. This is a business convention and I need to be on my A game. But I didn’t come down to the bar for business.
I’m supposed to be focused on this presentation and making contacts, but all I can think about is what happened. What they did to me.
Even now the pain is razor sharp, cutting me deep.
I turn to leave the bar, but then stop.
I can’t go back, I tell myself. I refuse to go back to crying over people who aren’t worth an ounce of my time.
It’s easy to tell myself this, but harder to put it in action. The betrayal has been a difficult thing to swallow. Especially considering the source of my agony.
Sarah was once a good friend to me, a co-worker and confidante that I thought had my best interests at heart. Turns out her only interest was getting my boyfriend's cock out of his boxers and into her lying mouth.
Ian’s infidelity had been bad enough, but Sarah’s disloyalty was deeply personal. I’d trusted her, and with everything. The way she played up to me all that time, giving me advice on everything from my hair, makeup, outfits and my relationship with Ian, only to stab me in the back when the first opportunity arrived--makes my blood fucking boil.
Screw her, I think to myself angrily. And screw him. They both deserve each other. I’m here now, and it’s time to move on with my life. The wounds are only a little over a week old, but I’m tired of wallowing in grief. It’s useless. And I can’t let anything ruin this job for me. I couldn’t stand being near that bitch so I left in the heat of the moment. Not the smartest thing I’ve ever done. But I still managed to get a good recommendation and land this job quickly. Thankfully.
Deciding it’s time to drink my worries away, I head over to the bar. The clicking of my heels from the hallway is muted by the thin carpet in the lounge area. I grab an end seat in a leather wingback chair, loving the open yet cozy vibe of the room and signal the bartender, a young blond man dressed in a black tux; he’s quick to make his way over.
“What will you have, sweetie?” His voice has a high-pitched note to it.
I give him a friendly smile in return. He’s handsome and all, but definitely batting for the other team. “Apple martini, please,” I reply.
He winks at me. “You got it.”
I watch as he leaves me.
Everything’s going to be fine. Just watch.
I’m just starting to feel more relaxed when I feel eyes boring into the back of my neck. I look around, and then my breath catches in my throat.
Holy hell, I think to myself, my eyes widening slightly.
A man seated at the bar just a few feet away is blatantly staring at me. Not just any man. The perfect mix of CEO and sex god. I can see he's wearing a crisp white dress shirt with only the top button undone under his suit, and his dark hair is slightly messy on top. He looks like he’d pin your legs back and take what he wanted from you.
My breath catches in my throat. He’s so fucking handsome. There’s no way he was looking at me. No way in hell. He’s way out of my league. His suit looks high dollar, and he’s groomed to perfection. Even the air around him is too expensive for me.