Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Fifteen

NOAH

Morgan Bentley’s words eat away at me. I don’t know if it’s her words, the insinuation, or the way she said them with such hatred. And then she goes and talks about her pussy. Given her unpredictable mood swings and personality shifts, I have no clue what it means. I think about asking Charlie, but mentioning the word pussy feels exceptionally awkward. Kate’s busy with some merger deadline and isn’t responding to my desperate texts to decode woman talk.

It’s massively fucking with my head.

I’m not the type of man to dwell on things too much. And although I’ve spent the day in Morgan hell, I manage to get over it by distracting myself with a Lakers game.

Lex kindly offers to take me, and with his courtside seats, how can I say no. Throughout the game, I think about Benny and Tom. How much I miss being around them, and even though Lex is great to hang out with, the boys know exactly how to have fun. The perks of not being in a relationship—we did whatever, whenever.

As I lay in bed, my conscience gets the better of me. I send Benny a text again apologizing for what I’d done and that I had moved to LA. The stupid fella still has his read receipts on—something Tom would continuously nag him to switch off because then the women he was trying to avoid would know he read their messages.

He obviously reads mine, doesn’t respond, and that’s the end of that.

Every time I shut my eyes, my mind does this crazy thing, racing through different memories and different people, reminding me that life has become complicated, and somehow, I feel out of place in this world and in my own skin. I don’t think in my entire life have I ever reflected back on my actions as much as I’m doing now.

And why? Because Benny and Tom never allowed it.

We didn’t wallow in pity when things turned sour. Instead, we got drunk and flew to another country to party away our troubles. It worked every time. Unfortunately, now, I don’t have that luxury. Not only are the guys not talking to me, but I also can’t let Lex and Haden down. They work themselves to the bone, and I’mnot a slacker.

Opening my eyes, I stare at the walls of the guest bedroom. Although it’s dark, the white and navy striped wallpaper creates a shadow, capturing my attention for a moment. I miss my own apartment. I miss having the freedom to bring women back to my place. And mostly, I miss being five minutes away from my mom.

My cell lights up, reflecting off the dark wall, and sitting on my home screen is a text from a chick I slept with last year. I sit up in bed with a smile on my face. Zoey’s a great gal, gorgeous, and extremely giving in the bedroom.

Zoey:Hi. What have you been up to?

I respond with a slight eagerness.

Me:Hey there, stranger. Long time, no speak. I’m in LA now. About a five-hour drive from you if I’m not mistaken. So what’s been happening in the world of Zoey Richards since we last left off? And BTW, where we last left off, would be a great place to pick right back up.

Great line. I’m mentally patting myself on the back for that one. Like most of the women I wind up in bed with, Zoey had just broken up with her ex. She was going through a rough period, and our worlds happened to collide. The second time around was pure coincidence. I ran into her at this bar while visiting a friend, and she happened to be there. It was just what I needed. In fact, I wanted to hook up again, but her dumbass roommate seemed to always be in the way.

Zoey:Nothing much. I moved closer to the beach. So you’re in LA? With a girlfriend?

I chuckle quietly at her comment.

Me:C’mon Zoey, I don’t settle down. Free if you are, gorgeous.

I begin typing a dirty message, reminiscing about the time we fucked in her room and how, when she came, her body did this delightful shudder. Nothing like a walk down memory lane. But somewhere in the middle of my text, another one appears, and it’s from Morgan. I quickly abandon my text to Zoey, opening the one from Morgan.

Morgan:I can see a flaw in your marketing plan. Perhaps Noah Mason is not so perfect after all?

The blood in my veins begins to boil. This woman has some sort of radar on me. She knows how to beat me down when I’m already feeling low. Quickly, I type back.

Me: Not everyone can be perfect like you, Ms. Bentley.

The bubble appears as I twitch my legs underneath the sheets impatiently, crossing my arms while I prepare myself for the wrath of her words.

Morgan:Never said I was perfect, and trust me, I’m far from it. Send me another draft with your dates correct for my perusal tomorrow. Good night, Noah.

Are you fucking kidding me? I’m meticulous with my work. And rarely do I get my dates wrong. I scramble out of bed to grab my laptop, powering it up as I wait for it to load and check my spreadsheet. In the meantime, Zoey sent me a long, drawn-out text about her being engaged or some shit. I skim through it quickly and respond with ‘Good luck. Your roomie’s a lucky guy,’ leaving that conversation immediately.

When I scan through my spreadsheet, I can see that one date has a slight error in the calculation, but nothing that affects the project. Miss Stuck-Up-Multiple-Personalities-Bitch obviously has nothing else to do but torment me.

Me:Thank you for picking up that MINOR detail. Corrected, resentful, and I apologize for being the center of your attention tonight.

I hit send, tapping my cell hard. That should shut her the fuck up. A few seconds later, she responds.

Morgan:What can I say, Noah, attention to detail is why I’m great at my job. And as for being the center of my attention tonight, you can only wish you were.

What the fuck does that mean? I think about a witty response, but through my anger, nothing comes to mind. Instead, I toss and turn the whole night, barely getting any sleep.

***

The next morning, I wake at the crack of dawn, eager to get the day started. I begin by going for a run through the neighborhood, then follow with some weights in Lex’s gym. It’s nice to get back to a routine that feels natural. That, and I don’t want to lose my muscle. One great thing about staying here—Charlie’s cooking. She knows how to cook, and with every meal she serves, she makes sure I have seconds, worried that I’ll starve to death.

I’ve never in my life been concerned about my weight, but the amount of pasta I ate last night will be a reason to avoid scales at all costs. And so, keeping up my fitness is paramount.

My need to burn off the excess energy is also from Morgan’s text. God, she riles me up even when she isn’t around. I’m this close to telling her where to shove her prissy attitude but focusing on the silver lining—she’s my golden ticket to Scarlett Winters. Once Scarlett’s mine, I’ll demand she get rid of her and find someone with less attitude.

Geez, cocky bastard. Listen to yourself, once Scarlett’s mine. It’s comical to say the least.

Showered and changed, I head downstairs to be met with dead silence. It’s a heavenly sound, one I’ve yet to experience in this household.

“Wait,” I say as I walk into the kitchen, pausing, raising my hand to my ear. “Is that what I think it is?”

“What?” Charlie’s scanning the room in confusion.

“Silence.”

She laughs, switching on the pot of coffee, still dressed in her pajamas. “This happens only twice a day. Before six and after eight,” she says with a peaceful expression. “You’re up early and dressed. Quite fancy, actually. Someone special you’re seeing today?”

“No one special,” I tell her. “Just another meeting with Scarlett’s assistant.”

“That’ll be your third meeting, right?”

I shrug my shoulders. “I guess so.”

Charlie’s inquiring mind continues to watch me quietly. I really want to tell her to stop because I know at any moment, she’s going to put on her lawyer hat and ask a million questions. She has the inability to let something go.

“It’s odd, don’t you think, that you haven’t met Scarlett yet?”

I delay my response, purposely bringing the cup of coffee to my mouth. “She’s out of town. She’s supposed to be back next week.”

“But her assistant hasn’t scheduled anything in?” she says the word ‘assistant’ like it’s a false title.

“Her name’s Morgan,” I correct her. “And no, not yet. Like I said, she’s out of town.”

“Morgan, eh?” she repeats with a twisted smirk. “First-name basis?”

I roll my eyes at Charlie and let out a childish groan. Here we go again, Mrs. Meddler. Mrs. All-Up-In-Your-Business Charlie. Now would be the perfect time to air my frustrations with Morgan’s behavior. But I know Charlie will read way more into this than what it is. And what is it? Nothing more than a prissy, stuck-up, wannabe actress with a pole shoved so far up her ass, she can barely walk.

“I don’t know what you’re getting at,” I respond in an extremely neutral tone. “I’m not attracted to her. Okay?”

“Okay.” She grins, dropping the subject altogether. “So, next month Lex and I have this thing. What are the chances of you still babysitting the girls?”

“Chances are slim.” I cringe, then immediately follow with a genuine smile. “Fine, why? I thought that the work thing was canceled.”

“They switched the dates. It would be nice to get out for a few hours, have some adult time,” she says innocently. “I love my girls. I really do. But sometimes, I think I’m going to go insane. They aren’t the type of girls to sit in the corner and color. Actually, yes, but the walls not in the books. I’m a terrible mom, aren’t I?”

I steal the bagel from her plate, and with a mouthful of cream cheese, I tell her, “I don’t think it’s supposed to be easy, Charlie. I think you’re doing a great job. They’re alive, aren’t they?”

“Yes… I guess so.” Her tone becomes serious. “It’s because I work. Well, at least part-time. Maybe if I were a stay-at-home mom, it would be different.”

“I don’t think so,” I disagree. “My mom worked two jobs since I was born. I turned out fine.”

A laugh escapes her mouth, followed by another one until she’s giggling uncontrollably. “Way to cheer me up. You did turn out fine.”

I throw the rest of my bagel at her face, the cream cheese smacking her in the forehead. “You’re a pain in my ass.”

“That’s what family’s for. Like hemorrhoids, just lingering around your anus annoying the fuck out of you.”

My throat closes in. The comparison turns me off the blueberry muffin, which a couple of minutes ago was teasing me relentlessly next to the bagel.

“Please don’t ever say that again,” I growl in disgust.

She smiles happily, standing up from the table. “I’m off to get ready for work. Behave yourself. I don’t want a call that you’re locked up again. And speaking of which, you owe me big time for that.”

“Uh-huh.” I motion for her to scurry on, and the second she leaves the kitchen, I let out a bothersome huff then yell back at her, “And don’t you dare give the girls sugar that night.”

***

All day, I can’t stop thinking about tonight.

Part of me wants to make up some excuse because I just can’t be bothered with her. And the other part of me—sadistic Noah—wants to meet with her, so I can push her buttons and irritate her just like she does me.

I bury myself in work for most of the day, and when there’s an hour left, I get a text from her.

Morgan:I’m sorry, Mr. Mason, I won’t be able to meet tonight. I will organize another time to complete this. Regards, Morgan Bentley

What the fuck? I reread the message, making sure my eyes aren’t playing tricks on me. She bailed on me. I’ve been reading the wrong signs, and why I care, I still have no idea. Fuck! Just as I’m about to send a text back when Karina, one of the girls in finance, taps on my door.

“Hey, Noah.” She smiles.

Karina has been tailing me since day one. Cute, but young. Younger than I usually would entertain. Fresh out of college, young.

“Oh, hey, Karina,” I respond with a forced smile.

“You look annoyed,” she points out, motioning for the cell that sits in my hand.

“Just an unprofessional client.”

“I know what you mean. Today, I spent an hour on the phone arguing about an invoice. The person on the other line had the audacity to tell me to go back to high school.”

Ouch. Like I said, she’s young.

“Is there something I can help you with?” I ask, tired and desperate to get out of here. Maybe Lex will be up for a drink tonight. I need male bonding time more than anything.

“Oh yeah, duh.” She laughs, walking further into my office. “A bunch of us are heading to Melrose for a drink. Just wanted to see if you’re free to come hang with us?”

I could fuck her. I mean, she’s easy. Wearing that low-cut top and her tits jiggling and bouncing around everywhere. But much like my almost-dirty text to Zoey, this would be a way to vent my frustrations with Morgan. Buried in some other woman’s pussy.

“How about I meet you guys down there?” I suggest.

“Sounds like a plan,” she cheers. “Okay, so see you there, Noah.”

She stumbles awkwardly out of the room, leaving me alone. I’m still annoyed as to why Morgan would flake on our meeting, and the more I think about it, the more riled I become. I take out my cell and dial Kate’s number.

“Hey, what’s up, my California bro?” she answers, way too cheerful.

“Would it be wrong to go to drinks and screw a twenty-two-year-old?”

“That depends. How did you meet her?”

“At work,” I reply.

“Uh… hell to the no. Remember what Charlie said… don’t shit where you eat.”

“You’re no fun,” I complain. “And when Charlie said that, she was referring to you.”

“Why the sudden urge to get your pants off?” she questions intuitively. “Besides, what’s happening with Scarlett?”

“Absolutely nothing. I still haven’t met her,” I respond, defeated.

“Why? I’ve already bought a dress to wear to your wedding. It’s low-cut with just the right amount of cleavage to attract the single men, but not so much that I outdo the bride and get called a slut.”

I laugh through the receiver. “She’s out of town, but her assistant—”

“Uh-oh,” Kate interrupts. “Why do I sense something brewing on the horizon?”

“Nothing’s brewing,” I shut her down immediately. “It’s so far from brewing that the seeds haven’t even been planted yet to be considered brewing material.”

“Then, what’s the problem?”

“The problem is that her assistant is weird. Plus, she keeps flaking on me, making my job difficult to do.”

Kate laughs at some inside joke that I’m yet to be included in on. “Oh, why didn’t I see this earlier? You want to shag her assistant.”

“Shag?”

“Shag, get her panties off, tap that ass. As you American folk so kindly say.”

“It’s not like that, Kate. I just—”

“Can’t stop thinking about her?” She fills my mouth with words. “It’s a trap.”

“A trap?”

“Yeah. That whole playing-hard-to-get thing. It does something to our brains, which makes us think we should chase them. It’s just like in school. When someone likes you, they do all these nasty things to make you think they hate you when, in reality, they’re just crushing on you.”

Is Kate right? Have I been looking at this the wrong way? Can it be as simple as she’s crushing on me? The idea—as lame as it sounds—isn’t as farfetched as one may think. Having a female perspective is much more beneficial than what the boys would’ve told me. Their advice would have been to ‘ditch the bitch, you don’t need no ball breaker.’

But Kate is smart, and she knows women.

“What’s happening with you?” I ask, switching subjects. “You being a good girl?”

“By a good girl, do you mean working long hours and not getting laid at all?” she drags, seemingly frustrated by her predicament. “Then, yes, I’m a good girl.”

“Well, offer stands if you need any help in the laid department.” I snicker.

Kate chuckles through the receiver. “The last time we tried, you kind of let me down. Excuse the pun.”

“One time,” I almost yell. “It was freezing.”

“Hey… the first-time impression is everything to a woman.” There’s a noise in the background as Kate covers her phone before raising her voice. “Do you think it’s that hard for people to do their fucking job correctly?”

“You sound like Lex.” I smile.

“I have to go. But listen, stay away from screwing any colleagues. Don’t go breaking your own rule. And as for Morgan… be careful.”

“Be careful? Of what?”

“Of falling in love,” she finishes.

Kate receives some email about a deal falling through, so she panics and practically hangs up on me. Whatever I try to do, it just doesn’t sit right with me. Kate just wants to spook me, talking about ‘love’ and shit. Love is not hating on a woman who’s so far up her ass and wanting to avoid her at all costs.

But you also want to see her, dickhead. And you can’t stop thinking about her.

I pack up my stuff and walk to the car. All I can manage to do is sit for a while, staring out of the window.

I’ve been with many women in my lifetime. And as infuriating as this is, I don’t know what irritates me more—her canceling our meeting or the fact she’s wasting my time, and I haven’t even met Scarlett yet.

And there’s Kate’s theory.

In a rash move, I slam my hands on the steering wheel, letting out a frustrated roar. Overwhelmed by the complexity of her constant mood shifts, I decide I have to do what’s best for me in this situation.

Confrontation.

I need to find her right now.