Page 77 of Man Vs. Woman
Colt
“Is she in?”I ask the petite blonde sitting at the desk. What is with all these fucking blondes? Is it just me or have there always been this many? I swear to God, they’re fucking multiplying. And, of course, it only reminds me of Serena.
The woman who I hurt, and who hurt me.
The one woman I need, and the only woman who’s pushed me away.
Her words have been echoing in my mind since the moment I left Per Se. But I have to keep reminding myself that it’s out of anger and misunderstanding.
Hiram played her.
She doesn’t know what’s going on, and when she does, she’ll understand.
She’ll know why I did what I did.
I’ll find something to expose him.
And once this shit show is over with, we’ll be hand in hand, cutting the red ribbon in front of Clarendon Tower’s retail space. It’s all a matter of time and an exercise in patience. If anything, that’s one thing I’m good at—exercise.
I know being here doesn’t look like I’m being patient. But I don’t fucking care what it looks like, shit needs to get done and I need to guarantee that we’ll be the ones in Clarendon Tower.
“One second, Mr. McCoy, I’ll check for you,” the blonde stands up, all five feet, hundred pounds soaking wet, and walks towards Ashley’s office.
“Ms. Carlson, Mr. McCoy is here to see you.”
I don’t hear what she says next, but the blonde waves me over and holds open the door for me.
“Thank you,” I nod to her.
“My pleasure, Mr. McCoy,” she smiles and flutters her eyes at me. The old me would’ve taken that look and ran with it, guiding her into the bathroom and letting her have her way with me.
Especially seeing as I need to work off some of this fucking anger.
But nothing has captivated me more than Serena. Even when she thinks she’s broken up with me, I’m hers forever. My dick doesn’t even react to the flirtatious blonde. Welcome to the new Colt McCoy, baby.
“Colt, wh—what’s wrong?” She asks, standing up from her desk chair. “Sit, please.” She points to the black leather couches in the middle of her office.
“Do I look that terrible?” I scoff and run my hands over my face, rubbing my temples to stifle the rising headache.
“You look concerned…and tired. Is everything ok?” She walks over to meet me. “Wait, do you want anything? Coffee, tea, water?” She swivels back around, headings towards her gold-plated bar cart.
“Scotch?” I ask, unsure if she stocks liquor in her office.
She smiles, warmly. “I have just what you need.”
She stands there for a minute, pouring our drinks. The sound of rustling glass, liquid, and medal makes it sound like a mixologist creating a world-renowned cocktail. But when she turns around with a crystal glass in hand, I’m greeted to two finger lengths of scotch and one ice cube.
“Thanks,” I smile, tightly. “That’s exactly what I need.”
“Alright, tell me. What’s going on?” She asks and sits on the couch across from me, placing one leg over the other. She interlaces her fingers and places her fist under her chin, balancing on it. Her undivided attention surprisingly calms me—that’s never happened to me before.
No wonder why Taylor is so torn up about this woman. She’s gorgeous, compassionate, and a badass, who takes shit from no one. At least that’s my impression of her, mostly now that I’ve done business with her.
“Everything’s gone to shit. Serena thinks I’m working with Hiram, which I’m not. You know that, right?” I ask her.
Fuck me. Do I sound pathetic and needing reassurance to you?
I fucking hate that I sound like this.
