Page 1 of Man Vs. Woman
Serena
“That asshole is dead,”I mutter as I storm inside the building.
My heart is racing, my hands are balled into fists, and my soul is boiling with rage. The smooth music coming from the speakers mounted on the walls seems in direct contract with how pissed off I am but, truth be told, I barely register it.
“Good morning, Ms. James,” the receptionist chirps happily as she sees me come in, but her smile fades away as she meets my gaze. “Uh, you arrived earlier. We...we weren’t expecting you till tomorrow,” she stammers, straightening her back and nervously drumming her fingers across the surface of her desk.
“Yeah, I know,” I reply through gritted teeth. “Where’s Hoyt?”
“Mr. Rivera is currently in room 7 getting a massage,” she whispers, running the tip of her tongue between her dry lips. I guess she already figured out that something’s very, very wrong.
Oh, she has no idea.
“Room 7 then,” I repeat after her and, with that, walk around the receptionist’s desk and march down the service corridor, my high-heels clicking loudly against the marble floor. When I finally find the door marked with the number 7, I have to use all of my willpower not to kick the door down.
I reach for the handle and, right before I turn it, I hear voices coming from the inside.
“Mm, that’s the spot,” I hear Hoyt groan, and then there’s the sound of lips smacking together and women giggling. “You girls sure know how to massage a lonely man.”
More giggles, and another of Hoyt’s groans.
My fingers are gripping the handle so tightly my knuckles have turned white. How could I have ever trusted a man with a name like Hoyt Rivera?
That was mistake number one.
Mistake number two was going into business with someone like him.
But that doesn’t really matter now, does it? What matters is that my sleaze ball boyfriend is about to learn the truth behind the saying ‘karma’s a bitch’.
As I finally turn the handle I realize that the door is locked. I could use the master key to get inside and kick his ass, but maybe there’s a more refined way to go about things.
Turning on my heels, I head straight to the control room. Filled with state-of-the-art electronics and the nerve center of the whole building, the control room is the place from where the technicians ensure operations are going as planned.
“Serena!” One of them exclaims, surprised as he sees me waltz inside the room. “Sorry, huh, Ms. James…you’re earlier.”
“Get. Out.” I hiss, holding the gaze of the three technicians sitting behind the controls. Slowly, almost as if I was a bear ready to pounce on them, they get up from their chairs and make their way out of the room, closing the door behind them.
“Let’s have some fun, Hoyt,” I whisper as I sit behind the controls. Tapping the keyboard a few times, I make the monitors light up, and my stomach lurches as I see the stream coming directly from room 7.
Hoyt, my soon to be ex-boyfriend, is lying down on the massage table completely naked. Flanking him are two naked brunettes—two of the masseurs I hired at his insistence—and their hands are all over him. Oh, right, and their tongues are running up and down the length of his three-inch cock.
Delightful.
I’m fucking done with this bullshit.
I always tried to be a good girlfriend, and this is how Hoyt decides to repay me? Well, screw this fucking asshole. Even though I always had an uneasy feeling whenever we were together, this is exactly what I needed to finally kick his ass to the curb.
It all started three years ago, on a classy bar in downtown Manhattan. Hoyt was his usual charming self, and I was nothing more than a wide-eyed girl ready to take on the world. What should’ve been nothing more than some harmless flirting somehow turned into a three-year relationship and a business partnership.
I never wanted to face it, but truth is...Hoyt took advantage of me.
I had big dreams, and the drive to make it happen, and he saw in me an opportunity to go further in life. Sure, he had a few connections that made it possible for me to finance our spa business, but I did all the heavy lifting.
Eventually, after operating out of New Jersey for two years, we made enough money to move Serene Spa to one of the most prestigious streets in New York, 30 Park Avenue. One year into this, and we’re already one of the most high-profile businesses in the city. Everyone that matters is our client, and that because we have the best facilities, the best masseurs, and the best damn service anyone could ever hope for.
From Hollywood stars to the wealthiest socialites, everyone flocks to Serene Spa.
Hoyt and Serena, New York’s newest power couple—that was how one the biggest periodicals in the city named us a few weeks ago. Hoyt was ecstatic about having his mug on the cover of a magazine, while I just kept my head down and did the usual: work my ass off. I know, I know...I should’ve seen it coming.
