Page 19 of You’re Mine

After a couple years, the fruits of my efforts began to show. I was promoted, and then promoted again. Then I made managing director, and a couple years back, I started my own hedge fund. It was a wild success, probably because I have a reputation as a take-no-prisoners sonofabitch asshole. Now, the money flows non-stop, and I have so much that it’s become meaningless.

But I haven’t found peace and contentment. My mind turns to Haley every now and then, and bitterness still makes me catch my breath. Why did she refuse to see me? What did I do that was so wrong? I hate to say it, but I’ve never gotten over the beautiful girl. She cast some kind of spell on me.

But I can’t remain mired on the past, so I met women, dated, and did the whole man about town thing. As a good-looking finance bro, I’ve got women throwing themselves at me non-stop. Thus, Chloe in my bed now. I picked her up at some restaurant a couple months back, and now she wants attention non-stop.

“Jace,” she mewls, throwing the coverlet back to expose her nude body. “We can still have fun tonight.” She’s thin. Too thin. I wish she’d eat more, but the woman seems to subsist on spinach and cauliflower morning, noon, and night.

“Naw, I’ve got to get going. I have a flight early tomorrow. Raincheck?” I ask, already turning away. I’m rubbing my eye in a thin attempt to keep my cool.

She pouts but knows the routine. I never realized how whiny she was. I don’t let her stay the night. In fact, I don’t let any women stay the night at my penthouse because it’s not what I want. These women don’t hold a candle to my first love, and it just feels wrong to sleep in the same bed.

“Fine,” Chloe says with a roll of her eyes while reaching for her dress. “I’ll see you when you get back?” It’s less of a question, and more of a demand. One I will not meet.

I just shrug, though, and leave the room to let her get herself together. There’s no sense in actually promising anything, because it means she would get her hopes up. It’s better to leave things open-ended.

Striding to my home office, I log onto my computer. The excuse about a flight was real, even if at the moment, I don’t actually have a flight booked yet. It’s no problem. I’ve got a private plane, and with a touch of the keys, I send a request to my personal pilot letting him know to file a flight plan for South Carolina ASAP.

Chloe strides out of my room. Of course, the woman’s got five-inch heels and full make-up already. She has an expensive purse clutched under her arm, and I manage a tight smile before snapping my computer shut, not wanting her to see what’s on the screen. I’m sure she’ll make someone else very happy. It’s just not going to be me.

“Are you sure you don’t want to have a little more fun?” she whines. She turns around, the zipper on her dress fully exposing her back. I sigh but get up and close it for her. Her shoulders deflate when it’s done, but she swivels back with a sultry smile on her lips.

“You want to zip that back down? All it takes is a second,” she purrs. Ugh. I shoot her a freezing cold smile.

“No, like I said, I have an early flight tomorrow. Get home safe, okay babe?”

She throws her arms over my shoulder and pushes out her bottom lip. We’re in the hallway now standing before the elevators, and I sigh because Chloe’s last-ditch effort is simply hopeless. Tonight was maybe my fifth time out with the woman, and I understand why she wants things to work. But I’m just not there with her and I’m never going to get there.

“Look, going out with you has been fun, and I had a good time with you tonight, but I don’t think we want the same things.” It’s a line I’ve used repeatedly over the past seven years. Every woman reacts differently, and it looks like Chloe is angry. She scoffs, giving me a disgusted look.

“Of course you’re saying that. My friend Sandra – whom you probably don’t remember – told me you were a dick. She said you slept with her and then dropped her without a second thought – like you probably do with all the women you seduce. I bet you don’t even know my name. Hmm? Do you? Tell me what my name is,” she challenges.

Actually, I do know her name, and I do remember Sandra. The other woman was a little nicer when I broke it off, but I could tell she was hurt. Man, I’ve really got a knack for picking the wrong women given that there’s so much gossip now.

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