Suite 269 Part 5

That's when the realization dawned on me: I was definitely reading this situation wrong and more importantly; this was someone I worked for. s.h.i.+t. I was acting unprofessional and stupid. "Mr. Holt. Oh, my G.o.d, I'm so drunk I don't even know where the heck I am. This is probably the most unprofessional thing you've ever seen. I am so sorry."

I felt the landing gear open beneath my feet, the loud clank of metal pulling me back down to earth. "You needed this, Lex," he said. A gorgeous smile tugged at his lips. A dangerous smile, one that had me acknowledging even one kiss of Mr. Holt's and my heart would not survive. "You weren't unprofessional in the least. As a matter of fact, this was one of the best flights I've had in a while."

We matched smiles. Nice, friendly, professional smiles. Yet, the urge to climb in his lap and nibble his lower lip was maddening. I desperately tried to ignore the heat of his gaze, so I started singing what was supposed to be my wedding song in my head and kept my eyes fixed on some random focal point on my hands.

There's a vague memory of stumbling down steps onto a tarmac with James laughing beside me, his arms wrapped around my waist. Then there were flashes of a chauffer in a sleek black car and buildings racing past us as we toasted to douchebags, s.l.u.ts, and new friends.h.i.+ps, while singing songs about throwing away garbage.

Then his hands helped me fumble with keys. Strong, warm arms carried me up the stairs. My bedroom door. James leaning against my wall saying something like, "You need to take care of yourself, be selfish for awhile. Where do you keep your pajamas? I'll help you undress."

"Real subtle, Holt," I said aloud.

He gave me a huge smile. A smile that made me, if I'm remembering correctly, throw my panties at him. There's a hazy memory of his fingertips dangling them teasingly, bringing them up to his face, and breathing them in.

I think I need to go I remember him saying, yet standing there, staring at me, not moving to leave.

S'kay I thought. I'm just going to pull the covers over my head and cry at top volume, but not because of them. And in the morning when I sober up, I'll get up and take a shower, and m.a.s.t.u.r.b.a.t.e the f.u.c.k out of my showerhead thinking of you.

s.h.i.+t. I hope I didn't say that out loud.

7.

Jameson

"You may think I have a dirty mind, but it's just explicitly creative." @Kavon #s.e.xOnTheBrain I was so screwed.

Her bedroom was soft, low lit. A crimson colored light fell through her window, casting a warm sinful glow along her skin. Somewhere my brain whispered low, deep, I needed to leave. Yet, I watched her sleep. Messed up, I know, but I couldn't help myself.

I forgot to ask her if Kevin Trager knew Alex Kavon. The reason she was put on that plane with me and I couldn't think about anything but how funny she was, how beautiful she was, how stupid a guy like Kevin Trager was.

I was so screwed.

We stumbled into her apartment together. Not intentionally, but the laughter and the conversation kept us going. She could talk about anything-one of those people who knew useless trivial facts about everything. It fascinated me. We laughed and teased, flirted and talked; all while I imagined her mouth on my c.o.c.k or riding me deep and slow.

I sat down beside her. Gently tucked her hair behind her ear. It was a strange place I found myself; I'd never wanted to crawl into bed and taste someone more than at that very moment. The only thing stopping me was how intoxicated we both were. She's not the kind of woman I could just sleep with though; she'd want more, and she'd already been hurt enough.

I slid out my phone and snapped a picture of her. Creepiest thing I ever did. She still had her s.h.i.+rt on, so it wasn't that creepy. Unfortunately, the blankets covered everything else. I just wanted her image, something to stare at to remind me of her when this situation was all over, when she marries the loser.

I walked out of her apartment with the hardest d.i.c.k ever erected; even my driver looked at me weird. Made me feel closer to G.o.d.

I barely remember the drive home or cras.h.i.+ng into bed, alone.

Evan woke me up the next afternoon with a phone call and invite for a late lunch. Grumbling and whining about some problem, I said I'd meet up with him at our regular lunch place, just to shut him up. I really didn't have time for his stupid nonsense, but I needed to get out anyway. I needed to clear my head of the mess it was in.

Of course, he was late. I sat down in a booth and ordered a beer. Last week, the only problem in my head was this magazine and keeping it afloat for the old man. Now, within just a few days, my head was spinning thinking about a pair of underwear that was flung at me by the s.e.xiest woman I'd ever met. She was brilliant, funny, and s.e.xy as sin, and her panties were burning holes into my fingertips as I toyed with the lace of them in my pocket.

I barely noticed when Evan slid into the booth across from me. Yeah, too busy running my thumb across the silk material in my pocket, trying desperately not to take them out and smell them again.

"I do not understand women at all. At all," Evan grunted as he slid into the booth across from me. "They are like another species or something. The things they can get men to do..."

"Uh huh," I mumbled, not listening to a word he said.

I wondered if she'd really go through with the wedding. She'd never be able to trust him again. Honestly, I can think of very few things in life that are more dishonorable and disgusting to me than cheating on someone that loves you. Be a man, leave if you want to, but don't pull tricks behind her back. Women aren't stupid. Eventually, the truth will come out; it always does.

"Are you even listening to me?" Evan reached across the table and nudged my arm, making me almost spill my beer.

"Humph," I mumbled back, mus.h.i.+ng his hands away from my beer.

My lack of listening etiquette had no effect on him. His voice raised and he leaned forward, seeming to speak urgently and quite animated with his hands. I couldn't have given a d.a.m.n about what he was saying. Wasn't happening. My brain had trouble concentrating on anything but Kevin Trager and how much of a loser he was. He wasn't good enough for Lexa. He was the kind of little boy who would keep on doing things behind her back because he thought he could get away with them. Over and over again. Someone who liked to play dress-up in his daddy's business suits and still held the mentality of a child. Lexa deserved a real man.

Evan gulped down his drink and slammed it down on the table so loudly I feared it would break. "Here she comes," he hissed.

"Huh? Who?" I asked, stumbling blindly back into reality.

"h.e.l.lo, James. Evan."

My gut twisted with the sound of that voice. Sophia emerged from somewhere behind me in tall, uncomfortable looking heels and a skimpy black dress. I watched silently as she made a theatrical effort to pull a chair over to our table, bending down in front of me so my eyes could see nothing but her a.s.sets.

"I don't recall inviting you to sit with us," I said with very little emotion.

"So, you didn't listen to a thing I just said to you, did you?" Evan questioned.

"Nope." I drained my beer and belched like a toddler in the direction of Sophia's face. "Evan, I'll see you at work," I said, gathering my things.

"Wait, James, please," Sophia begged.

"Shouldn't you be s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g Trager?"

"What the h.e.l.l do you care if I was s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g him? You told me no strings, right? Jealous? I told you this before; you're the one who didn't want to be exclusive. You knew I wanted a relations.h.i.+p with you and you know that I believe Kevin Trager knows Alex, so I did it for you!"

"Let me clarify, Sophia. I don't care who you sleep with, we don't have a relations.h.i.+p, we never did, but it was a poor choice on your part to mess with someone else's fiance."

"You think he told me there was a fiance? Please. And what do you pay the mail staff, because his apartment is fabulous. He has a little garden out front and a view of the city to die for," she bragged, trying to get a rise out of me. Like I'd care.

"I don't think it's his place, I think it's hers and you're right, it is really nice," I smiled wide.

"No way. She's a pathetic little fact checker. I think Kevin is Alex," she whispered, crossing her arms under her chest, trying to show me more cleavage. "Wait, how do you know it's really nice? You went home with her?"

"Cut the c.r.a.p, Sophia. You and I are nothing to each other, so don't start drama," I snapped.

Her lips twisted in the most hideous way. "Did you have s.e.x with her?"

I rolled my eyes and laughed in Evan's direction, but he wasn't there. Where the h.e.l.l did Evan go? "Not that it's any of your business, but no."

"No, you just took her home on the company jet as she sobbed about her perfect little ruined wedding. Why? Did you have to take care of her, like the poor little pathetic thing she is?" She pointed her finger at me and snarled. "Do you realize I had to take a commercial flight back? In economy! Your father didn't even have enough money to fly me in business cla.s.s."

"Is there any part of you that's human?" I asked.

"Yeah, the part that you stuck your d.i.c.k in," she said, making me cringe.

"That's no great feat Sophia, and it was just s.e.x, so whatever way you want to spin it, it was still just two people pa.s.sing time by s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g, same thing as sitting here eating lunch."

She paused briefly, watching me. "You really don't care, do you?" she said, eyes widening.

"No, Sophia, I don't," I shrugged, draining the last of my beer.

"But what about..."

"Stop," I cut her off. "Was it just once? You and Trager? When did it start? I need the truth. Not for me. For Lexa."

She wiped at her eyes. Her makeup smeared from the tears, showing her true face underneath.

"The night that I asked you what you wanted from our relations.h.i.+p-the holiday party. He saw me upset and took me home. I wanted you to get upset, but you didn't even know I left," she sniffled.

"He's been cheating on her for two months?" I was shocked.

"Why do you care so much about her? She has nothing to do with us!"

Another round of drinks arrived. The server ran from the table when she noticed the angry stare Sophia wore. Screw it. I threw down my napkin and stood up. "I don't know what you and Evan planned this lunch outing for. I told you at the conference there is no need for us to speak any longer. You wanted to get me jealous. It didn't work. You want to say it has something to do with Kevin Trager being Alex Kavon. You can believe that all you want, sweetheart. But the truth remains; you slept with someone to see how I'd react. This is how I'm reacting. I don't care."

I walked out of the bar, Evan suddenly appearing right behind me. "James. Man, wait up," he called after me, tugging on my sleeve.

"What? Seriously, what the h.e.l.l do you want from me?" I said, spinning on him. "And where the h.e.l.l did you run off to?"

He gestured for me to follow him across the street and into a small coffee shop. "Listen, I know you don't give a c.r.a.p about Sophia. But, she's getting some information about Alex Kavon merging with Rollingstone. That's going to blow our magazine out of the water." He tugged at his hair nervously. "You and your father have the rest of Holt Media and all their accounts. I work for InTrend and I can't lose my job. Your father is filing for bankruptcy, maybe talking about selling the whole thing, or I don't know."

"I guess you should start looking for another job. Because neither my father nor I will bed Alex Kavon for this dying magazine. It had a great life, once. Now it's over," I seethed.

My fingers hovered over my phone the entire conversation, until I finally couldn't hold back any longer. I put my cell to my ear and waited to hear my father's greeting, then walked away from Evan, leaving him standing alone in the coffee shop with clenched fists.

"Hey, son."

"Pull the magazine. It's not worth it," I said.

"Jameson," he sighed into the phone. "I want to save it, son. It was your mother's pride and joy. She'd roll over in her grave if she knew. I have a consulting firm coming in this week. We'll make plans after," he huffed.

"That's a bulls.h.i.+t reason. The people that work here need to know it's dying," I urged, walking farther down the block.

"Your mother's memory and how she felt about this magazine is not a bulls.h.i.+t reason. I want to give it a few more months, son. So I at least know I tried."

I grumbled my oppositions and we said our goodbyes quickly. Why did I care more about what Lexa was going through than what the magazine was going through? I took my phone out again, took a deep breath, and punched out a text.

8.

Lexa

"Men and women were not created equal. Example: Consecutive o.r.g.a.s.ms. Really ladies? Yes. I'd like to walk in your v.a.g.i.n.a for a day." @Kavon #v.a.g.i.n.aLuggage I stood in front of the mirror staring into the eyes of a complete stranger. She was dressed in white silk and lace, a veil hung from her wild hair, and she looked ready to jump right out of a window. My mother and so-called future mother-in-law stood behind me, proud tears in their eyes.

I'm gonna hurl.

The wedding gown was suffocating me. It took me about two seconds. Two seconds of seeing myself in that idiotic dress to realize my wedding was still happening; like storm clouds hovering on the horizon and thunder rolling in. There were fifteen more days.

The organza and lace choked me, smothered me with its Vera w.a.n.g claws, and had me hyperventilating on the floor. "Off. Off," I panted, hands fumbling at the tiny pearl b.u.t.tons that held me captive in the silky coffin. "Get this stupid thing off of me!"

Mandy was next to me instantly, her fingers. .h.i.tting precise strings and b.u.t.tons to get the fabric off my skin. "Okay, sweetie, okay. I'm taking it off," she whispered into my ear.

"Don't be so silly, Lexa. You look lovely, dear. If you're that worried about how you look, we could get you on one of those detox diets until the wedding. I bet you could lose all those extra pounds before you step one foot down the aisle."

Mandy and I both stiffened at the same time. Her hands up the back of my gown, me bent over; we must have looked the sight. "Hold me back, Mandy. I'm going to throttle her," I snapped.

"No. No. No, you won't." Mandy grabbed me by the waist and dropped the gown, which fell off me in one quick puff of fabric. "Calm down. Breathe. Just breathe." She stepped directly in front of me and cupped my face in her hands. "Look at me, Lex. What are you thinking?" Somewhere outside the walls of the store, a loud group of kids walked past, their voices happy and screeching, yet almost muted from so far away.

"I can't do this. I don't even know why I'm here. I can't marry someone who cheated on me, Mandy." I tilted my head to look past her. My mother stood with her hands covering her mouth, tears filling her eyes. Mrs. Trager next to her, eyes wide with shock. "I'm sorry. I need air," I said, grabbing my clothes and bolting out of the dressing room.

Yes, I ran through the front of the store yanking my s.h.i.+rt over my head (inside out and backwards), with my jeans and shoes in hand. No, I didn't think about it, it wasn't really a priority. All I wanted was air and to be out of that wedding gown.

By the time I reached the front door, I was hopping into my pants and stumbling out into the street, zipping up my zipper and gulping for air. The small crowd of teenagers I heard stood staring at me from the corner. All their laughter ceased.

I needed to think, and I certainly couldn't think with that stunning wedding gown on and my mother watching. Trager had said it was only one time.

Only one time.

He said it was only one time and that if I cancelled the wedding I'd be giving up our future for one silly little mistake. An accident. An a.s.s f.u.c.king accident. I don't mean to be cra.s.s here, but that's what it was, it was exactly what I saw. It still lingered in my vision as if it were burned into the back of my eyelids. It made me want to pour bleach into my eyes and scrub them clean.

I drove home enraged and on a mission. Every stupid love song that had ever been created sobbed out of my car speakers.