New York Nights
Page 13
“You were very good at covering your tracks for such a long time, so I’ll give you that,” he said. “But I thought we thoroughly discussed how I felt about liars. Did we not?”
I murmured as he tightened his grip on my pearls, as he pulled me so close that we were lip to lip.
"Do you plan on answering me, Aubrey? Are you tired of this fucking charade?"
“I never thought that...” I was stuttering, trying to look away from him, but his grip prevented me from moving. "I am so sorry..."
He didn't say anything further. He stared into my eyes, searching for something that wasn't there. Then he lowered his voice, and leaned back. "Once someone lies to me they're dead to me forever. Do you remember me saying that?"
"Yes..."
"So, you’ve always been willing to lose our friendship over lies?"
"I never wanted to meet you in person...”
“I can see that.” He hissed.
“If I had known who you really were...” I was breaking down in front of him. This was too much for one day. “I would’ve never—”
“Save it.” He cut me off. “I’ve heard enough about your thoughts on lying. Seeing as though we don’t share the same views, you’re not worthy of being my intern. You’ll be serving as my secretary’s assistant until further notice.”
“You’re demoting me?”
“It’s not a demotion. It’s a way to keep you out of my sight.”
My heart dropped.
“Our online relationship—whatever the hell that was anyway,” he said, “is over. I don’t want to hear from you outside of these walls again.”
“Thoreau...”
“It’s Mr. Hamilton, Miss Everhart.” He glared at me. “Mr. fucking Hamilton.”
“You have to believe that I’m sorry...I never thought that this would happen.”
“Take however much time you need on the Brownstein account.” He disregarded my apology and released his hold on my necklace. “You have until the end of next week. And from now on, you can just set my coffee on my bookcase. I don’t need you coming anywhere near my desk.”
“Andrew—”
“We are definitely not on a first name basis. Do not ever call me that.”
“Just let me explain...”
“There’s nothing to explain. You lied to me and you no longer exist. Get out. Now.”
I felt tears welling in my eyes. “I was serious about you being my only friend...Friends are supposed to give each other a chance to make things right. Just let me tell you why I had to lie to you...”
“I don’t deal with liars. Ever. And seeing that that’s exactly what you are, I don’t care why you felt the need to deceive me. Get out of my office, stay out of my sight as much as possible, and do your damn job.”
I stood up and looked into his eyes, pleading for him to simply hear me out, to let me explain, but he turned away from me. Then he picked up his phone.
“Jessica?” he said. “Could you help Miss Everhart find her way out of my office? And could you please have the janitor check my floors for fucking superglue?”
I stood underneath the scalding hot streams of my shower, crying. Right after I’d left Andrew’s office, I’d told HR that I wasn’t feeling well and needed to leave for the rest of the day.
I’d driven straight for the dance hall—locking myself into a private room and dancing until I couldn’t feel my feet anymore. I knew I must’ve looked crazy to my classmates, sobbing in between every twirl, but I didn’t care; I needed to clear my mind of all thoughts of Andrew, Thoreau, and Alyssa.
As the water continued to lash against my skin, I shut my eyes and murmured, “How long has he known?” I thought about the past couple weeks, how “Thoreau” had been less talkative than normal, how he’d ignored me, and then it hit me.
My interview...
I still remembered it because seeing Andrew in person made me realize that no picture could ever accurately capture how sexy he really looked, and I’d blushed the second his eyes met mine. He didn’t seem to act any differently throughout the questioning, but then I remembered that random phone call...
I wasn’t sure why I was just remembering it now, but while Mr. Bach and Mr. Greenwood had simply laughed that intrusive phone call away, Andrew had stared at me. As if he was in complete and utter shock. And at the end of the interview, when I’d reached for his hand, his gaze wasn’t intrigued anymore, it was heated.
Wiping away my tears, I turned off the water and stepped out. I wrapped myself in a towel and did what I always did when I felt sad: ordered a sandwich and made myself a couple of stiff martinis.
Just as I was downing the first one, there was a knock on my door. I noticed the pink Barbie keys on the counter—courtesy of my forgetful and “never here” roommate and knew it was her.
She always leaves something...
“Would it kill you to double check for these before you—” I stopped when I opened the door.
It was Andrew, and the look on his face was one of pure anger. He wasn’t dressed in a suit anymore, just a simple, thin white T-shirt that slightly clung to his chiseled abs and a pair of faded blue jeans.
I tried to slam the door in his face, but he held it open and forced himself inside my apartment. I started to step backwards and he matched me step for step, backing me against my living room wall.
“We need to talk.” His voice was flat, emotionless.
“No, we don’t. You said plenty earlier.” I looked down at the floor. “Don’t worry, I’ll be resigning in the morning. Please leave.”
He tilted my chin up and looked into my eyes. “You’re not quitting.”
“Watch me.” I swallowed. “I want you to leave...”
“I would believe that, but you say things you don’t mean all the time.”
The tension between us was damn near palpable, and I could feel my blood heating every second he stood there staring at me. I tried to move away, but he gripped my hips.
“You told me you were a lawyer, Aubrey...” he said, his voice dripping with malice. “You told me you were twenty seven years old.”
“I never said I was twenty seven. You assumed.”
“It was on your fucking profile!” He pushed my back against the wall. “You never thought to correct me whenever I said I was only five years older than you...I’m ten years older than you.”
“I didn’t think I would ever meet you in person,” I barely managed to say as he pressed his chest against mine.
“That excuses your lies?”
“I said I was sorry, and it was clearly a huge mistake to ever befriend you. You didn’t even give me a chance to completely explain.”
“Do you not understand how fucked up this situation is?”
“No...” I murmured as our lips touched.
“I’ve been looking forward to fucking the woman who teased me every night for nearly six months,” he whispered, sliding his fingers underneath my towel. “I wanted her to ride me.” He trailed his hand up my thigh and rubbed his thumb against my clit. “On my cock and my mouth. And I wanted to teach her how to taste me...Don’t you think this woman fucked all of that up?”
I murmured as he tightened his grip on my pearls, as he pulled me so close that we were lip to lip.
"Do you plan on answering me, Aubrey? Are you tired of this fucking charade?"
“I never thought that...” I was stuttering, trying to look away from him, but his grip prevented me from moving. "I am so sorry..."
He didn't say anything further. He stared into my eyes, searching for something that wasn't there. Then he lowered his voice, and leaned back. "Once someone lies to me they're dead to me forever. Do you remember me saying that?"
"Yes..."
"So, you’ve always been willing to lose our friendship over lies?"
"I never wanted to meet you in person...”
“I can see that.” He hissed.
“If I had known who you really were...” I was breaking down in front of him. This was too much for one day. “I would’ve never—”
“Save it.” He cut me off. “I’ve heard enough about your thoughts on lying. Seeing as though we don’t share the same views, you’re not worthy of being my intern. You’ll be serving as my secretary’s assistant until further notice.”
“You’re demoting me?”
“It’s not a demotion. It’s a way to keep you out of my sight.”
My heart dropped.
“Our online relationship—whatever the hell that was anyway,” he said, “is over. I don’t want to hear from you outside of these walls again.”
“Thoreau...”
“It’s Mr. Hamilton, Miss Everhart.” He glared at me. “Mr. fucking Hamilton.”
“You have to believe that I’m sorry...I never thought that this would happen.”
“Take however much time you need on the Brownstein account.” He disregarded my apology and released his hold on my necklace. “You have until the end of next week. And from now on, you can just set my coffee on my bookcase. I don’t need you coming anywhere near my desk.”
“Andrew—”
“We are definitely not on a first name basis. Do not ever call me that.”
“Just let me explain...”
“There’s nothing to explain. You lied to me and you no longer exist. Get out. Now.”
I felt tears welling in my eyes. “I was serious about you being my only friend...Friends are supposed to give each other a chance to make things right. Just let me tell you why I had to lie to you...”
“I don’t deal with liars. Ever. And seeing that that’s exactly what you are, I don’t care why you felt the need to deceive me. Get out of my office, stay out of my sight as much as possible, and do your damn job.”
I stood up and looked into his eyes, pleading for him to simply hear me out, to let me explain, but he turned away from me. Then he picked up his phone.
“Jessica?” he said. “Could you help Miss Everhart find her way out of my office? And could you please have the janitor check my floors for fucking superglue?”
I stood underneath the scalding hot streams of my shower, crying. Right after I’d left Andrew’s office, I’d told HR that I wasn’t feeling well and needed to leave for the rest of the day.
I’d driven straight for the dance hall—locking myself into a private room and dancing until I couldn’t feel my feet anymore. I knew I must’ve looked crazy to my classmates, sobbing in between every twirl, but I didn’t care; I needed to clear my mind of all thoughts of Andrew, Thoreau, and Alyssa.
As the water continued to lash against my skin, I shut my eyes and murmured, “How long has he known?” I thought about the past couple weeks, how “Thoreau” had been less talkative than normal, how he’d ignored me, and then it hit me.
My interview...
I still remembered it because seeing Andrew in person made me realize that no picture could ever accurately capture how sexy he really looked, and I’d blushed the second his eyes met mine. He didn’t seem to act any differently throughout the questioning, but then I remembered that random phone call...
I wasn’t sure why I was just remembering it now, but while Mr. Bach and Mr. Greenwood had simply laughed that intrusive phone call away, Andrew had stared at me. As if he was in complete and utter shock. And at the end of the interview, when I’d reached for his hand, his gaze wasn’t intrigued anymore, it was heated.
Wiping away my tears, I turned off the water and stepped out. I wrapped myself in a towel and did what I always did when I felt sad: ordered a sandwich and made myself a couple of stiff martinis.
Just as I was downing the first one, there was a knock on my door. I noticed the pink Barbie keys on the counter—courtesy of my forgetful and “never here” roommate and knew it was her.
She always leaves something...
“Would it kill you to double check for these before you—” I stopped when I opened the door.
It was Andrew, and the look on his face was one of pure anger. He wasn’t dressed in a suit anymore, just a simple, thin white T-shirt that slightly clung to his chiseled abs and a pair of faded blue jeans.
I tried to slam the door in his face, but he held it open and forced himself inside my apartment. I started to step backwards and he matched me step for step, backing me against my living room wall.
“We need to talk.” His voice was flat, emotionless.
“No, we don’t. You said plenty earlier.” I looked down at the floor. “Don’t worry, I’ll be resigning in the morning. Please leave.”
He tilted my chin up and looked into my eyes. “You’re not quitting.”
“Watch me.” I swallowed. “I want you to leave...”
“I would believe that, but you say things you don’t mean all the time.”
The tension between us was damn near palpable, and I could feel my blood heating every second he stood there staring at me. I tried to move away, but he gripped my hips.
“You told me you were a lawyer, Aubrey...” he said, his voice dripping with malice. “You told me you were twenty seven years old.”
“I never said I was twenty seven. You assumed.”
“It was on your fucking profile!” He pushed my back against the wall. “You never thought to correct me whenever I said I was only five years older than you...I’m ten years older than you.”
“I didn’t think I would ever meet you in person,” I barely managed to say as he pressed his chest against mine.
“That excuses your lies?”
“I said I was sorry, and it was clearly a huge mistake to ever befriend you. You didn’t even give me a chance to completely explain.”
“Do you not understand how fucked up this situation is?”
“No...” I murmured as our lips touched.
“I’ve been looking forward to fucking the woman who teased me every night for nearly six months,” he whispered, sliding his fingers underneath my towel. “I wanted her to ride me.” He trailed his hand up my thigh and rubbed his thumb against my clit. “On my cock and my mouth. And I wanted to teach her how to taste me...Don’t you think this woman fucked all of that up?”
