Pretty Bitches Read online

  His voice was otherworldly. I was having internal tremors just hearing it ring in my ears. I finally found my voice and scrambled a few thoughts.

  “I spent a summer there several years ago. I briefly considered moving there but I love my job too much.”

  I was actually kicking myself. That didn’t even sound like me. I’d never been at a loss for words, or anything else for that matter and this man had me practically eating from his hands.

  He’s just a guy, like all the rest, Em. Calm your shit. I took a deep breath and pulled myself up higher as I broke his gaze and returned to scanning the room. Truthfully, I had to look away because I was in serious danger of whimpering and sucking my thumb.

  He made me want to submit and that was nothing I’d done or planned to do in my life. I call the shots. I play the game, not the other way around. The more I thought about it the more angsty I became. Who the fuck did he think he was? No one tips the scales especially when I’m on them.

  My blank expression became a scowl and I didn’t miss the fact that he was highly entertained by my obvious uneasiness.

  I’d had enough. “As fun as this has been why don’t you keep moving down the line. I’ve had a long day and I’m not really in the mood for a Scottish stud at the moment.”

  His smile became a wicked grin and he watched me through hooded eyes. After several minutes of staring one another down I hissed through my teeth and slammed the glass on the marble bar watching a crack slide up the side. I gave him one more glare before I shoved my way through the sea of bodies and threw open the door. The cold air blasted my face and helped to fade the irritation that burned up my spine.

  I’d never come unglued that way and it had me seriously vexed. I gruffed an even surlier attitude toward Elliott who was fighting back a smile as he took in my face.

  “Fuck off, Elliott.” I muttered as I slid into the back and he closed the door.

  He lowered the window. “Where to next Madame?”

  I flipped him a bird. “Home, then fuck off.”

  He smiled wider and raised the glass as he pulled into traffic. My mood became even bitterer during the thirty-minute drive. When we pulled in front of the house I could barely wait for the car to stop before I was pulling on the handle.

  Marriett was holding the door open as I rounded the first step. I huffed past her and slung my jacket and purse across the marble table in the foyer. I fisted my hands at my sides as I strolled through the massive hallway leading to the main living area.

  I stopped at the bar and absently poured my-self another Glenlivet. As soon as the liquid touched my tongue I was instantly reminded of the prick at the bar. I scowled again and threw the drink into the sink. Turning on my stiletto heel I hissed as I made my way through the quiet house and stomped up the staircase.

  Even when I was soaking in my enormous tub I realized my anger was just bubbling under my skin. What in holy fuck was wrong with me? I rarely get this angry and when I do someone loses his or her job or any semblance of a career. I rubbed my temples and took several deep breaths. I would not let anyone have this type of control over me. I pushed the memories from my mind and focused on a few new ideas as I swiped through my tablet.

  After an hour I was back in control. I’d made several notes and sent a few emails detailing my instructions for our winter collection special focusing on up and coming whose who in the Manhattan scene. I looked at my watch and realized it was still early—ten thirty—but I was exhausted. I toweled off, lotioned up and grabbed my silk gown as I shut the light.

  Nothing was on television so I thumbed the power button and rolled to my side. Sleep came easy and before I knew it my alarm was buzzing and I was already late.

  Holy shit!

  I’d slept through an hour of buzzing. I jumped from the bed and ran for the closet. Grabbing a Pucci wrap dress as I stuffed my feet into my crocodile pumps and ran for the mirror. I didn’t have time to mess with my uber long locks today so I twisted the light red strands into a messy bun atop my head and dusted my cheeks with blush. Mascara was a must before I finished with an electric shade of red on my lips.

  Elliott was waiting with a residual smile, I assumed from the previous evening.

  Asshole.

  The ride to work was typical and I shattered the glass with a string of profanities directed toward anyone meeting my gaze. I was still in such a state when we arrived I even met Ed with an anger induced greeting.

  Judging by the way the waters parted when I entered the building, everyone saw my “fuck with me today” face and decided to check the floor for cracks as they passed by me.

  I ignored Melanie’s attempt at greeting me and starting on my first event on the calendar. My door slammed underneath my firm hand and the frosted glass on either side rattled in protest.

  Once I was in my chair I opened my laptop and pressed the intercom.

  “Bring me a coffee and hold every fucking call until I breathe back into this intercom.”

  I started on the notes from last night regarding the winter collection feature. I applied my new ideas to the mock up page and called for Ashley in advertising for a pick up. By noon I’d knocked out several projects and was making serious headway on the upcoming Anchorage shoot.

  Finally I was able to breathe and sip my cold ass coffee that I had abandoned during my frenzied work.

  At three o’clock I alerted Melanie that she could now divert carefully screened calls to my desk. No one with an accent or previous knowledge of the color walls in my bedroom was allowed.

  I fielded five calls before four fifteen and brokered five new full-page ads for the edition. Like clockwork, Lila sauntered in just before five o’clock.

  I was going to kick Melanie in her uptight ass as soon as I stood from this chair.

  Just as she began to clear her throat I met her gaze with a murderous look. She actually flinched and took a step back.

  “Whoa. I’ve only seen that look once before and he spent time in the OR having his nuts stitched from your heel.”

  “Not today, Lil.” I said through clenched teeth.

  She began to protest but formed a thin line with her lips once she saw the fury in my eyes. She turned on her heel and strolled from the room slamming the door as she left.

  The day was shot. I walked across the room and fisted the crystal decanter pouring a hearty portion. The familiar burn eased down my throat and settled into my stomach. I stood at the window watching the tiny figures dance across the sidewalk below.

  My thoughts drifted back to the gorgeous stranger from the night before. Now that I had a handle on my emotions—thanks to the Scottish whisky—I was able to appreciate the game he played. I had hardly noticed his prepared delivery until I had time to process the events during my commute this morning.

  He clearly knew me, had done his research and played his hand with precision. I had to hand it to him; he had balls. Anyone that knows me or even knows of me would never have the nerve to use my fondness of Glenlivet and Scotland.

  The only man that I’ve ever loved was a Native and he taught me everything I know. He turned me into the strong woman that I am today. My father was a legend in my eyes and not one single male or female has ever measured up in my eyes.

  I’d flown out three years ago after learning he had medical tests done and repeatedly dodged my calls. I got eight weeks with him before the cancer took him away. I nearly cracked after he passed. My heart was broken and my spirit marred. He was the single light in my life and with him gone I was in total darkness.

  He had a love of Glenlivet and we would sit in his garden in the evenings enjoying a bottle and telling whose-is-bigger stories. So, anyone that made use of that knowledge and tried to gain access to me in that fashion is automatically blacklisted and stopped at the door.

  I finished another glass as I typed away on my computer. When the darkness fell I stretched my legs and started for my jacket. Melanie had left hours before and the office was eerily quiet. I
made my way out the front door greeted by a smiling Elliott.

  I was too sauced to care and just folded into the seat. I bypassed the watering holes and made a beeline for my house. I was in no mood to play nice or even play. I just wanted to be alone.

  When something had me thinking about dad I usually retreated inside my shell and came apart. Truthfully, the reason I’d become so bitter and casual with my relationships was because it numbed the pain and loneliness. I could distract myself and forget, just for a time, when I used them and abused them.

  Dad would be furious at my reckless behavior over the past three years but I honestly was still a bit pissed at him for leaving me. I’d even been close to marriage once but that was before he died and my entire world was tilted on its axis. I barely made it up the stairs before the tears began to fall at an alarming rate.

  It’d been three years since I shed a single tear and this was a full-blown attack.

  I made it to the bed and collapsed letting a long slow ache work its way to the surface. At some point I fell asleep and when the alarm woke me hours later I opened my eyes and the first tear hit my pillow before I could even make my way from the bed.

  I was in no shape to face people today so I called Melanie and had all my calls forwarded home. I rarely worked from my home office—only when I was on deaths doorstep but today felt like one of those days.

  I buried myself in emails and proofs until I raised my head and realized it was four o’clock in the afternoon. I pulled off my glasses and pinched the bridge of my nose letting out a long sigh.

  I had to get my shit together.

  Marriett brought my daily tray of Glenlivet at five o’clock. It didn’t matter where I was in the world, at five o’clock everyday I had a glass in my hand and a toast to him in my heart.

  Everyday.

  I slumped back in my chair and enjoyed the first burn down my throat as I gazed out the window watching the jam of traffic blocking the street. Days like today I afforded myself the time to people watch and wonder if their lives were as fucked up as mine.

  I had amusing stories I would tell myself as individuals passed by that made me feel just a little less guilty about how I’d chosen to deal with mine. My therapist had stopped trying to figure me out years ago. I was a hopeless case of a fucked up mind. The sheer determination I had convoluted any rational thought that passed through my head.

  I was incapable of feeling.

  Marriett deduced that today was a bit tougher than most days inside my head and had the forethought to leave the decanter resting on my desk. That thought actually had me smiling. As shitty as I make the lives of the people I surround myself with they were still loyal. That was one redeeming quality I had—I could spot a leach and a nugget of gold that stood out in a crowd.

  I stayed secluded inside my room the rest of the evening. The familiar feeling of self-loathing became stifling. Sure, people saw me as a bitch of steel and that was exactly what I fronted. I needed that wall of security because just behind it was this fragile person that was in danger of falling the fuck apart any second.

  My cell buzzed on the table: Lila.

  I groaned and slid the lock.

  “Where were you today, bitch? I’m stuck at Pressed with Anthony and he won’t shut the fuck up about you. I’m more than irritated that even while absent you garner all the fucking attention. Bitch.”

  That actually conjured a small giggle.

  “Of course he’s talking about me. Probably dreaming about me, too.”

  Two seconds later. “Fuck you.”

  I threw the phone on the pillow and grabbed the remote. My dad had made me a mix CD of his favorite Scottish bands featuring bagpipes. It was my go to music and I rested my head against the headboard and hummed along to the notes.

  When my alarm caused my eyes to fly open I immediately jumped from the bed. That feeling of deadlines and disasters play before my eyes, as usual. I yanked a sassy number from my plaid collection and turned on the shower.

  Today would be a better day—I chanted to myself.

  I was walking out the door forty-five minutes later to be greeted by a bitchy Elliott.

  Score.

  That made me smile already. The commute was short and garnered no explicit remarks from my lips. Ed was joyed to see me and I felt likewise with my returning smile.

  I startled Melanie when I stopped at her desk and made eye contact to hear my daily events. Once I was in my office facing my computer I was on autopilot. Everything had an ebb and flow. The emails were cranking out, the fires were being doused with water and the potential business was mine for the taking.

  All in all, a good fucking day.

  When four thirty rolled around and Lila made no appearance I almost felt a tinge of remorse for my comment the previous night.

  Almost.

  I grabbed my coat and made my way down to the twenty-second floor. She was just getting to her feet when I barged into her office. She gave me an eat shit look and tried to shoulder past me. But, I wasn’t having that today. I needed a distraction and she was going to help me get one.

  “Just where do you think you are going?” I asked, amused.

  She rolled her eyes and leveled them to my gaze. “You’re a cunt and I have no time for you.”

  She turned but I grabbed her arm.

  “Put on your big girl panties and grow the fuck up.” She dramatically rolled her eyes. “Now, where are you going? I need a distraction.” I finished with a dazzling display of expensive teeth.

  She took a moment to stab me with her eyes. “Fine. I’m going to LaRouche.” She took a moment to scan me from tip to tail. “We may need to make a stop at Neiman because I hardly believe you will get laid in that catholic school girl plaid.”

  I laughed out loud. I could always depend on her to lighten my spirits.

  By the time we were into our second drink I’d dodged three bullets from trolling sharks. Once my vision was blurred and my lips numb I conceded that tonight was going to be a loner.

  I motioned Ralphe at the bar and closed my tab. Lila had sequestered a doctor in the corner booth and I was tired of the scene so I grabbed my clutch and slid from the smooth Napa leather booth.

  I took a moment to steady my alcohol-induced sea legs and began my onward motion of one foot in front of the other. Just as I rounded the last booth before the door a strong hand gripped my upper arm causing me to freeze and turn in that direction.

  He was more glorious than he had been two nights ago. His chestnut hair had honest to God sparkles in it and his eyes were dancing with wickedness. I took a fleeting moment to scan his uber perfect body before I affixed the scowl to my face.

  He snickered. “Hello to you, too, Glenlivet.”

  My anger was instant. “Fuck off.”

  His returned expression was that of shock. He was genuinely taken aback.

  After a stutter he managed, “I’m sorry?”

  I narrowed my eyes. “You heard me, fuck off and find some other wounded chick to use your game on.” I could feel the traitorous tears coming. I yanked my arm from his grip and headed for the door.

  He caught me easily. “Hey, look, I’m sorry if I’ve offended you somehow...”

  I don’t know if it was the sincere look in his eyes or the familiar sound of his accent but my shell cracked and I dejectedly allowed the first public tear to roll down my cheek. His startled expression gave me the fuel to power my legs through the door and basically sprint to my car.

  Just as we were pulling away I saw his fleeting image—arms outstretched pleading—as I turned and let the rest of the tears follow.

  What the fuck is happening to me? I couldn’t gather a single plausible explanation. My brain was firing away but coming up empty. This man had the ability to render me completely useless and anyone that had that power over me needed to be exterminated. I couldn’t allow myself another interaction with him. It was detrimental to my sanity and needed to be avoided at all costs.

/>   The remainder of the week was spent brooding and obsessively working. I was avidly aware that the sheer amount of work I’d accomplished was mind numbing. I was a machine and that was usually the case when my brain wanted a break to process something I wasn’t prepared to face.

  By the time the weekend rolled around I was just about packed for my Anchorage excursion. I was looking forward to a bit of downtime, actually. To get away from this contrived city would do me some good. I yanked the zipper on my monogrammed bag and placed it atop my trunk.