Only…none of that happens.
Instead, I’m like a crack addict that’s been given a hit.
And I need more.
“Come with me,” Joy continues, her voice turning into an annoying plea. “Puhlease, Aidan. This will benefit us so much, I just know it.”
I tense and look up at her. Now that I really stare at her, she looks nothing like Ivy at all. Her eyes are all different. She’s too bony. Her skin’s tanned but not in that sunkissed sort of way Ivy’s was. Her hair isn’t nearly as dark as Ivy’s either and there’s no random red streaks in them.
“Ai-dan! Answer me!” She throws me another pout.
This shit is getting ridiculous. “I made it clear when we met that this was going to be a quick fling.”
She leans over the table, her eyes bulging, and hysterically replies, “We’ve only slept together once, Aidan.”
“And it was one time too many, Joy. You’re getting clingy.”
“How have I been clingy?”
“You called my office twenty-nine times today.”
“Because I booked this dinner and needed you to confirm.”
“You told my secretary you were out front of my building –”
“Because I missed you –”
“Joy –”
“No, I’m not crazy!” she nearly yells, and I close my eyes briefly as all the eyes in the restaurant turn to us. “I’m doing you a favour, Aidan. You’ve been hiding out too long now. I’m trying to prove to everyone that you’re not the manwhore they think you are, but what you’re doing isn’t helping matters. Because this is very manwhoring of you! I thought you were different.”
I open my wallet and throw down a few large bills and calmly respond, “That was your mistake.”
She gasps. “You told me I was beautiful.”
“I wanted to fuck you.”
“You liked what you saw.”
“I was thinking of a different woman.”
She gasps a second time, more dramatically than the last. “You’re an asshole.”
“I already know that.”
As I stand up, her face contorts to anger. “We were meant to go to Monaco!” she snarls. “You’re making a big mistake, Aidan.”
“It’s Mr West from now on. Take care of yourself, Joy.”
I leave her like that, and my head is pounding by the time I slip into my ride waiting for me out front.
“And then there was one,” Gaston remarks, glancing at me in the rear-view mirror as he begins to pull out of the parking spot.
“Yeah,” I return swiftly. “The way it should be.”
Gaston takes me home to my lifeless penthouse, and I wind up sitting on a stool around my empty, clean kitchen, twirling a glass of scotch between my hands. My phone is next to me, and I glare down at it and at the woman that for some goddamn reason won’t leave my mind.
Maybe it was her smile, or the words that came out of her mouth. Or maybe it was the loneliness in her eyes, a loneliness I acquainted with very easily. She didn’t seem happy. I remember the look on her face when she showed up at her apartment building. Her apprehension was obvious, like she’d been forced to be there. Why co-exist with a cheater? Why have that reminder stare at you in the face every fucking day? I grit my teeth, ignoring the way my chest aches at these questions.
By the time I finish my glass, I convince myself it’s none of my business. She’s just a woman, and I’ve spent way too much time pretending she matters. Because she doesn’t. Not at all.
Six
Ivy
I get up before Derek. I change and get ready quickly and he’s still asleep when I slip out of the apartment. I grab a coffee from around the corner and walk three blocks to the salon I work at. These are just some perks for living in the city that even I can’t deny.
“You’re late,” Connie says when I step into the salon.
I glance at the clock. “By two minutes.”
“Late is late, Ivy. Or would you like me to charge by the minute instead of the hour?”
Connie, the owner, is an asshole. I don’t respond to her, but I give her the stink eye behind her back. Alicia, my favorite co-worker, shakes her head too.
“What’s up her ass?” I mutter to her as we walk to the lounge room in the back. “Melanie was fifteen minutes late yesterday and she got practically serenaded.”
“Didn’t you see her bloodshot eyes? She’s obviously hung over,” Alicia replies on a scoff. “Also, Melanie can do no wrong. Welcome to favoritism 101.”
Speaking of Melanie, she’s reading a magazine on the black leather sofa. When she sees us approach, she looks up and slowly drags her eyes over us. “You guys should really touch up on your ends. You want to keep your clients, don’t you?”
I glance at her red flaming hair, all done up in an updo that must have taken her fucking weeks to complete. To be fair, it’s really nice, but I’m not going to say that. I don’t reply to her because there’s no point. Alicia, on the other hand, can’t rein it in. “No one asked for your fucking advice, Mel. If we wanted some, we’d ask a Weasley with a better hair job.”
I fight a smile as Melanie’s eyes bulge out of her skull. “FYI, bitch, this dye is a sophisticated ruby and velvet color duo, and it was done with precision and hours of meticulous focus.”
Alicia rolls her eyes. “Yeah? No one gives a fuck.”
I can’t help the laugh that escapes me, which only serves to piss Melanie right off. She glowers at me, and I know something vicious is about to erupt.
“Still not used to you being back so soon, Ivy,” she says, flashing me one of her mean smiles. “How long
