Page 3 of Mistaken Assumptions

Me: Maybe. I’ll have to test yours sometime and see if they are a good fit for me.

This wouldn’t last forever. But while we had something logical to connect us, I was unashamedly going to take full advantage of it. I had never been shy about letting Karter know how much I wanted him.

It was time to leave for work. I looked at my shoes and let out a ragged sigh. The only flat shoes I owned were for the gym—hell even my snow boots for trips to the ski hills had insane height. Today, however, felt different. The dreams I had dared to have in the dead of night were spurring me to rise above myself and let go of my destructive habits. I wanted to mend from my injuries and get back to full strength as soon as possible. Sighing, I laced the running shoes. The outfit I was wearing was ridiculous in the extreme—professional bad ass on the top and athlete on the very bottom.

Trudging along the street, I kept telling myself that it was all in an attempt to feel better soon. It didn’t help my self-confidence, but it enabled me to walk to work, something I had been missing since the horrific events of the gala. Traveling this way, I was able to take in the sights, smells, and sounds of this new city. There was music everywhere! All these details were missed when I rode in the Rolls.

My condo was just north of downtown, and when I entered the actual metropolis area, I took the road that would ensure I passed by the coffee house I had learned to crave, before arriving at the office complex. On my side of the street, across from the café, a group of musicians were putting on quite the show. That was a part of this city I was learning to adore—music filled every nook and cranny, if one just paused long enough to listen. Stopping to enjoy their soulful warble about the rain, a horse, and a long lost love, my eyes flicked across the street to where I saw a familiar set of broad shoulders covered in a finely made midnight blue suit.

His name was on my lips when I realized Karter wasn’t alone. At first glance, I thought there was a slim man walking shoulder to shoulder with Karter. My hand was part way in the air and as reality began to click, my fingers curled from a wave into a fist. Dropping my hand, I felt my breakfast turn to stone in my stomach.

Karter was walking next to a stunning, poised redhead.

And they weren’t just walking—this woman was all over him. She was touching his shoulder, and gesturing around. Something she said must have been utterly hilarious, because Karter tipped his head back and let loose a great belly laugh. The woman stepped quickly in front of him. And that player Karter reached for her, pulling her close and jabbered energetically.

Fuck him.

Those two words did not have the same meaning as they would have even ten minutes earlier. They were going into my café! Karter had opened the door and dropped his hand to the woman’s waist, guiding her inside. A feral, animalistic snarl burst out of my lips. Hiking up my lap top’s strap further onto my shoulder, I continued my journey down the street. The irrational urge to call him and yell at him fueled my steps forward. The truth of the matter, however, was that I had been the one to think Karter was different—so desperate for something other than the typical, trust-fund player, I had made Karter into a hero that he wasn’t.

I have been delusional!

Had I really been calling that playboy my friend? He was a Livingston! A wealthy heir to the fucking company that would crush me in a moment given the chance—and I had let him play with me. What a game! Why couldn’t I see that this was all a game to him? Calling him my friend, indeed.

Dropping my brief case onto my desk, I slumped into my chair. Defeat pushed heavily down on my too small shoulders. That fact that his constant communication had been comforting was irrelevant. I was the weak one to let him in—and he just didn’t see me in the same light. But the biggest disappointment was his help to achieve my goals. I needed him and he was probably laughing internally about having strung me along while feeling up that towering specimen of a woman.

Maybe it was better to realize he was a player now before it was too late. After all, Karter needed to acquire WRX Distribution just as badly as I did.

As I mulled over how to handle this newest development, my phone pinged.

Karter: I was hoping to surprise you this morning on your coffee run. Sorry I missed you, but I wanted you to know I found a box of those Mexican chocolates you were talking about—I won’t tell you my source! Can I bring them over one of these evenings?

Squeezing my eyes closed, I shut my phone off by feel. I couldn’t deal with him anymore today. The fairy-tale had come crashing down around me.

“What the fuck am I doing?” I whispered to myself. Things needed to end with Karter—immediately.They should never have started!Yet telling myself that I should have known better was no help.

Just as my self-criticism began spiraling out of control, my office phone rang. My secretary informed me that Mr. Fields from WRX Distribution was on the other line.

By the time that phone call was done, a migraine had started behind my eyes. The initial asking price was insane. And there was not much I could do about it—except be furious at the enemy for making this more difficult than it needed to be.

3 Karter

Like a fool, I kept checking my phone every fifteen minutes. All fucking day.

Rhea was a busy woman. I understood firsthand how the world we lived in worked. It hadn’t stopped us from getting to know one another. The communication had started with our joint effort to destroy the professional career of a monster in Cirillo, INC. At the ends of our conversations, however, we would find other matters to talk about—never our respective businesses, but personal tidbits. It hadn’t taken long and we would just randomly call or message about anything and everything that came across our minds. It was easy with her.

Her texts were the first thing I looked for in the morning and I made sure to say something to her before bed. The reality that an expiration date was hanging over us was something I accepted and decided to make the most of. Right now, there was nothing stopping me from getting to know her.

Or hear her.

The phone sex last night had been something I had fantasized about all week. Not wanting to scare her, however, I had waited for the opportune moment. And yesterday it had come. Every time I thought about her luscious body, writhing and moaning under my voice, I couldn’t hold back the shit-eating grin on my face.

But so far today, there had been nothing but silence after the little banter about the bed sheets.

Furthermore, Bobbi was inching so far up my ass that I was surprised I could even sit down. And today, when she learned that Xavier Fields had an initial asking price, Bobbi kept harping on me about my strategy.

How the hell I was supposed to decide my move with her yammering, I couldn’t fathom. Acquisitions were a delicate process—one reason I was so good at them. My record was nearly perfect, save for one incident with a wholesaler a few months ago. Apparently, that one loss outweighed all of my wins. Shutting myself away in my private office since dawn, I came up with a few decent stratagems for winning the bidding war. The one time I had emerged, however, I had been ear-raped the whole way to grab a cappuccino.

By early-afternoon, after my administrative assistant brought in a pile of folders, I put aside the acquisition. Before diving into the paperwork, I sent Rhea a message.

---