Page 41 of Takeover

“Don’t want or need an explanation. Goodnight.” She opens the door again, but this time she doesn’t wait for me to leave. She walks to the coat closet and pulls out the same pair of red stilettos she had on the last time I came here. She turns her back to me, dismissing me completely.

Any feeling of contrition vanishes and is replaced by a blinding rage. No one dismisses Ethan Bradford. It takes effort not to act like the entitled asshole that my father wanted me to become. It’s a constant battle between emulating my father’s actions and listening to my mother’s words. In the end, I don’t want to be like my father. I’m not a philanderer or a gambler, but I’m also just a man. One not immune to certain feelings.

“Where the hell are you going dressed like that?” She stands up straight, seemingly startled by how close I am to her. When she turns to face me, I step closer, not giving her any room to walk past me.

“Where am I going dressed likewhat?” she challenges. She puts both hands on her hips and looks up into my face.

“Don’t toy with me, Tara. I can explain about Lindsay.”

“Oh, I’m sure you can. Too bad for you, I don’t care to hear your explanation. Move.” She tries to get past me by pushing me. I let out a snort and take a step closer, boxing her in even more.

“She’s my son’s mother, Tara. She broke her wrist skiing in Vermont—”

“I thought she was at some spa in Sedona? You know what? I told you I don’t want to know. We said one weekend, and we had it. Let’s go on with our lives.”

“I want more than one weekend. That’s why I’m here.”

“Oh, well, lucky me.”

“I don’t do well with sarcasm, Tara.”

“Leave, and you won’t have to deal with it.”

“I’m not fucking leaving.” The words come out sharper than I intended, so I take a deep breath.

She manages to slide past me as I try to calm down. Her tight little body rubs against mine, and all I want to do is strip her of that dress and slide between her legs. She high tails it down the hall. I find her in her bedroom, taking things out of one purse and putting them in another.

“Where are you going?” She finally looks up, and I take her in again. Her makeup is flawless. Her dress fits her body like a glove, and those smoky eyes are sexy enough to make a grown man weep. “And with who?”

“I’m going out with a man, Ethan. Now, leave my apartment.”

“The fuck you are,” I scoff. “I will rip that fucking dress right off your body.”

She opens her mouth to argue with me just as someone knocks on the door. I spin on my heels and practically run to it. She’s slowed down by her high heels, and she’s still in the middle of the hallway by the time I open the door.

He’s of average height for a man, putting him under six feet, and I tower over him. I block the entry of the apartment with my body, not giving him enough space to come in or for Tara to go out. I stand at my full height and make a point to look down at him.

“Is Tara home?” he asks, craning his head.

“Hey, Ben,” Tara says. She’s doing her best to look past me, but she has no luck.

I look at Ben again and admit he’s a good looking guy. He’s about the same complexion as she is, maybe a bit darker. He has a shaved head, and I can tell he’s in good shape.

“Ben, you seem like a nice guy,” I tell him. “Which is why I’m going to give you five seconds to get out of here before I pull you into this apartment and throw you over the balcony.”

“Who the hell are you?” He does his best to look around me, and I don’t miss Tara’s shocked gasp. She tries to open the door, but I bump her with my hip. She pinches my side in retaliation and kicks me in the shin.

“Dammit, Tara.”

“I’m going to start counting,” I tell Ben. “One…”

He looks around me again, shakes his head, and says, “Tara, just come on over whenever. Paul is dying for you to try his paella.”

“Who the fuck is Paul?” I ask.

“Just shut up, Ethan!” Tara says.

Ben takes a step closer and says, “Paul is my husband. You got a problem with that?” He doesn’t wait for me to answer before he says, “Tara, your aggressive friend here is not invited,” before walking away.

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