Page 41 of Sexy Bad Neighbor

Even after Garrett and the little girl, whom I presume is his, leave, I don’t go over to Paynter’s house and he doesn’t come knocking on my door, either. I don’t know why he doesn’t, but screw analysing it, because truthfully, I’m relieved. I’ve had this little epiphany, but I haven’t yet processed all I’ve discovered about myself, all I need to do to try to become myself again.

***

Monday morning, I head into the office, wearing my favorite boots, which are brand-name knock-offs I impulsively bought from Target and usually wear only when I’m with my family or going someplace where I’m certain no one will know me and judge me based on my footwear.

It’s my first attempt at being me, a person who wears footwear because she likes it or it’s functional and not because the shoe speaks of her financial status. It is arguably one of my most difficult fashion decisions since I’ve started dressing myself.

My office is located in a glass-encased high-rise owned by my boss, who happens to be Paynter’s brother. I’ve momentarily forgotten this fact while I mull over my decision to attempt to make choices based on my own wants and desires and not what I think others expect of me.

James was out of town for most of last week, and Friday he worked from home, so I managed to avoid looking him in the eye, knowing I banged his brother on the couch in the basement, on the kitchen counter, in his bed.

Today, I won’t be so lucky, based on the sticky note I find attached to the door of my office when I return from the restroom. It’s mid-morning, and I’ve been working my way through my emails, trying to clear my inbox, because my afternoon is full of back-to-back meetings. With a sigh, I head down the hall to the corner office.

“Love those boots, Chloe,” his admin says as I show her the note before proceeding into James’s domain.

“Hey, Chloe, lookin’ good,” he greets me. “Those boots are great.”

“Seriously? When’s the last time you complimented my footwear? The shoes I wore yesterday cost half a week’s salary.”

“You spent too damn much on them, then.”

Leave it to a man who wears Rolex and Armani like he was born to model their goods to point out that sometimes, the price tag doesn’t make the shoe. Or person.

“So, change of subject in order. Was the trip successful?”

His brow scrunches and he abruptly shoves out of his chair and stalks over to where a coffee station is set up on a shelf built into the bookcase. “Coffee?”

“Sure.”

He’s agitated. I immediately fear Paynter has told him about us but no, I don’t see him as a guy who breaks promises that are clearly important to the other person.

James pours coffee, adding flavored creamer to mine without asking because he already knows, and offers me the matte black mug with the red logo that matches the one on the building we are currently standing in. I take a sip and make my way to one of the chairs facing his desk while he pours coffee for himself and adds the barest dollop of cream.

“How successful it was remains to be seen,” he says as he sits behind his desk and places his mug on a ceramic coaster. “Myra told me your calendar is clear until one. I need you to sit in on a meeting for me.”

“Sure. When?”

He glances at his watch, thick and heavy and solid gold with a cut crystal face. “Fifteen minutes.”

“Oh. Well, I guess you’d better fill me in.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Some guy from our biggest competitor is downstairs, sniffing around, probably trying to figure out how to steal our clients. Usually they aren’t so ballsy as to actually show up and demand a meeting.”

He pauses and I wait, knowing he’ll give me more information, won’t send me into a meeting blind.

“I’m double-booked. I could easily reschedule my other meeting, but truthfully, I think it’ll be more fun if you take this one. Shut the guy down. Hell, make him cry if you want to. Remind him that no one can touch our status as the number one corporate real estate acquisitions and management company in the Midwest.”

Hell, make him cry if you want to.

This is the person I’ve created. The reason James hired me, and the reason I’m likely to make partner before I’ve been with the company a year.

But I’m not that person, not when I’m with Paynter. He would laugh if James said something like that in front of him and then he’d say, “Chloe isn’t like that. I wouldn’t be sleeping with her if she was.”

Oh God, will I have to choose after all? If I let this thing between Paynter and I grow, see where it goes, will I eventually be forced to become my college professor, the one who told us her story of climbing almost to the top, only to give it all up to teach at university when she got pregnant with her third kid?

“You okay, Chloe? You look a little pale.”

Blinking rapidly, I clear my throat and give James a tight smile. “Fine. I’m fine.” No I’m not, but I can’t tell my boss that. I can’t say, I’m sleeping with your brother, he’s making me question everything about myself, and now I’m afraid I don’t even know who I am anymore.

---