Page 32 of Between Passion and Revenge: Part Two
At all.
Fuck.
“I know you haven’t dated much since we started Orisun. I mean, how could you? You’ve been too busy being Ms. CEO.” He says the last part like it’s a friendly joke.
“But I see you, Liv. And I know what you need. You need a man who can actually take care of you. Who can give you that dick you need in your life…until you’re ready for more.”
What.
The.
Actual.
Fuck.
“I…” I’m actually speechless. I don’t want to laugh in this man’s face, because he’s right. While I don’t actually wanthisdick, I do really, really wantsomeone’sdick in my life, if for no other reason than the fact that I came while riding my Peloton this morning.
Who has a fucking orgasm while riding an exercise bike?
Bitches who need to be dicked down, that’s who.
You know what set you off, though….
I shake my head, hoping to shake away Zane’s words and the unwelcome image of the trainer who looked entirely too much like the man Ineverallow myself to think about.
What a weird fucking day.
“You don’t need to say anything, Liv. Just…think on it. Okay?”
Zane looks earnest, and I’m so screwed up, it feels hard to breathe.
It feels hard to?—
“Ms. Rivers?” Melissa’s voice comes through the speaker on my desk, and I was wrong before. This is the moment when I’ve never been more grateful for my assistant.
“Yes, Melissa?” I rush out, leaning over to press the button and get my sights off Zane.
“Your nine o’clock is settled in, ma’am. And I know you have the ten a.m. meeting, so I wanted to make sure….”
I glance at my computer screen, and the clock screensaver says it’s 9:02 a.m.
Thank.God.
“I’ve got a nine a.m.,” I say, sliding past Zane and booking it to my door.
“Think about it, Liv!” he calls after me, making more than one head turn. Fuck. What the hell is happening right now? I should be livid. I should be able to shut this shit down. I should be able to be the fucking boss.
Anger piles on top of anger, so by the time I reach the boardroom door, I’m feeling like a dragon, fire-breathing and all.
I enter the room, locking eyes with a flushed Melissa, who stands and hands me a tablet with my daily agenda queued up.
“Let’s get this started,” I say, setting the tablet down and lifting my arm to shake the hand of the first man to my right.
But when my eyes make contact, every single cell in my body freezes, shoved into an icy tundra as I see the ghost from my past.
No. This can’t be happening.
“Hey, Sweetness,” he whispers, having the audacity to smile at me—to say thatfuckingnickname like he can just waltz in here and show any type of endearment after what he did. After how I suffered in his abandonment and neglect.
