Page 20 of Maneater
I avoided her that night and did my best to brush her out of my mind, but two weeks later, she was out to dinner with some other trust fund kid who had more money than sense, and I understood it then: she turned me down because I didn’t have whatever pull she looked for in order for someone to be worthy of her time.
Unfortunately, for whatever idiots fell for her charm and met her rigorous standards, it seemed like none of them proved worthy of her for more than one date. For the next six months, until graduation, I saw her out multiple times, each with a different man, some other poor schmuck who fell for her act and was quickly tossed aside.
After graduation, I forgot about the brunette bombshell, instead focusing solely on work and climbing the ladder as quickly as possible to prove to Annette that her belief and investment in sending me to get my MBA were sound. Last year, at thirty-two, that hard work paid off, and I was promoted to VP of Operations for the entire Daydream Resorts: the youngest VP in the one-hundred-year history of the company, and I moved to Hudson City, where Daydream’s headquarters are located.
That was when I started spotting her out again. She was once more going on dates with powerful and wealthy men, except this time, I knew them personally. Many were clients, investors, or vendors for Daydream. The first time I bumped into her on one, there was a flash of utter irritation in her eyes before a wall fell over her face and she reverted to some kind of airhead sex kitten, all tits and doe eyes and silly giggles. All of it was hot; all of it was alluring.
But what I really wanted to see again was that irritation.
Thatwas the look that made my cock hard.
So, every time I happened upon her out with someone I knew, which has been at least once a month for the last year, I stopped by, made some small talk with her date, and handed out a stealthy barb that succeeded in drawing her fire.
When I saw her at Opal, I was ready for more of the same: a quick flare of her irritation and then moving on with myevening, but this time, she wasn’t actuallywithsomeone. This time, I took the seat next to her, flirted with her, chatted with her, and realized I fuckingwantedher. Since the only woman I had been able to think about for the past year, since she fell back into my life, was her, I decided fucking her out of my system would be the solution. That is, until we were interrupted.
It was for the best, I told myself. A reminder of what’sreallyimportant: work. A sign from some higher power that I couldn’t veer from my path, and if I did, disaster was bound to strike.
But if that was the case, then what was the universe trying to tell me by putting herhereand doing itnow?
Peeking around the corner once more, I catch her side profile better, see the curves of her lush body, and realize it was not some trick of my mind: Josie is here.
Both dread and thrill rush through me at the realization, not that once again we’re at the same place at the same time, but that she’s here at my job during the biggest mess of my career.
Instantly, my mind starts reeling.
Why does the fucking universe hate me so goddamn much as to put this woman in my path, interrupt us in such an untimely manner, and then put her herethis week? As if I don’t have enough on my plate, the world drops this utter distraction of a woman into my lap.
Just my fucking luck.
NINE
JOSIE
When Rory says it’s clear, we stand casually, making our way around the pool toward the beach, chatting as if we’re just on our way to a spa appointment or reservation. Despite our cool exteriors, our attention is piqued, taking note of any eyes that might be following us or questioning us. Thankfully, we make it out of the pool area without an issue. Moving to the beach, I sigh with unmasked bliss when my toes meet the sand, another reminder that I desperately need a vacation. In the distance, there’s a wall made of bamboo with a small“Pardon our appearance” sign to help mitigate the eyesore, with yellow tape lining the right side. With a quick scan of the beach, we note that it’s empty before slowly meandering toward our target.
Finally, the charred building is in sight after we duck under the caution tape, and I fight a gasp when I catch the destroyed area in person for the first time. Rory is quiet as we take in the structure, and I begin taking photos on my phone of anything that might be of use to us to look at later.
A hot spot where I assume the fire started.
The charred remains of a few rental items.
A mostly melted stand-up paddleboard.
“Josie, over here,” Rory says quietly, and I make my way to where she’s staring at the ceiling. “Did they say there was a camera in the stand?”
I nod, trying to recall the information. “Yeah, but it went offline. They couldn’t see anything, and then it was too far gone to check the camera, and I can see why.”
Her eyes are focused on a spot on the metal framing of the building.
“I don’t think so,” she says, eyes fixed in place. “I think someone took it.” She tips her head to the ceiling. “The camera should be there. It would still be there if it were burned in the fire.”
And it’s not. In fact, the spot where she’s looking has slightly less smoke damage, less charring, almost as if… “Someone took it.”
“And Gabriel didn’t tell us?”
“There’s enough here to look at; there’s a good shot they missed it. Or it was so charred they didn’t notice, and then someone came after to grab it. I’d have to double-check the photos we have to confirm one way or another.”
“But why take the camera?”
