He. Won’t.I want to shake some sense into the cute young blonde who can do so much better.Once a jerkass, always a jerkass. There are worse things in life than being alone—like being with a thoughtless man who treats you like shit. A man like that does not change. A man like Stiles, who can look you right in the eye while shredding your self-esteem without a flicker of remorse.
It wasn’t his rejection that hit me the hardest—it was the cruel slap of his words delivered with such cold detachment.Women like you aren’t my type.
It’s not like me to dwell. Over losing a game, okay, that’s understandable, but over a man?Hell no. Yet, I’ve replayed those six words repeatedly for the last week, letting J.D. Stiles take up far too much space in my head while he probably didn’t give me another thought.
Maybe he’s a misogynist, the kind of man who gets a kick out of degrading women and making them feel terrible about themselves. Or it could be mommy issues. Or better yet, small dick syndrome. I don’t know if that’s a real thing, but there’s a short-man complex, so it stands to reason.
The idea of big, bad Stiles having a baby wiener makes me smile. But only for a moment. As of right now, I’mDonewith a capital D before I become a version of Dorian, obsessing over a man who’s just not worth it.
I get up to stretch and change my mental channel. Mid-stretch, I see Nori Chou, the owner’s assistant, appear in the open bullpen where we all work, either at the shared tables for meetings and collabs or in individual pods designated formespace.
She heads straight to Talon Hunt, my semi-nemesis and a member of the 3A Club—attractive, arrogant, and assholery. Come to think of it, Stiles could join the club too, but I’m not supposed to be thinking about him.
As luck would have it, I don’t have to work directly with Talon very often. I joined Power Designs two years ago. I’d chosen it over the top three architectural firms because I’d rather be a big fish making a splash in a small pond than just swimming in a large school among the sharks. My decision paid off, and now I’m one of two senior architects. The other is Talon. We handle the most prestigious accounts, and both want the coveted Friar project.
I watch the brief exchange before Talon stands in his designer suit and wingtips, then disappears down the hall.
“Did you see that?” Dorian stops her complaining to direct her question at me.
Of course I saw that. I’m right here.
“Do you think it’s about the Friar account?”
I spare her a who-knows shrug. Although, I’m wondering the same when Nori approaches me next.
“Athena wants to see you, too.”
I don’t ask why. If Nori had been told to tell me, she would have. Athena Powers was known for playing her cards close to her vest. She doesn’t stand on ceremony or follow any operating standard except her own. I respect that. I respect her—a brilliant designer and self-made businesswoman. Athena is large in size, personality, and presence. At six feet tall, she looks up at no one and carries her two hundred pounds with style and confidence. But some, intimidated by strong black women, call her the Viper.
I follow Nori, more curious than nervous. Since I wasn’t scheduled to see clients today, I’d dressed casually and for the June heat—cream linen cropped slacks paired with a jade sleeveless shell, and wedge heels that tie up around the ankles. Unlike Athena, I have to look up at most people. I’ve gotten my height from my mom, who is barely five feet, but my green eyes and auburn hair are courtesy of my Irish dad. My body type is more like his too. Instead of inheriting my mother’s curves, with the exception of my booty, I’m boyishly straight and muscular, with narrow hips and training-bra-sized boobs.
Puberty bypassed me altogether. Throughout high school, I was called “Skittle Tits.” It was hurtful and embarrassing, but I knew I’d have to develop a tough skin to survive. I focused on being a great athlete, training hard on the field and in the gym. Building strength and muscle came easy because of my genetic makeup. My slight frame bulked up quickly, and that gave them more ammunition. “Mini Hulk” joined the list of names they called me. I pretended I could take the ribbing and used casual sex with my fellow male jocks to feel like agirl.
It wasn’t until the latter half of my twenties, when I truly started to grow emotionally as a woman, that I came to like my strong, athletic physique and accept my small chest. I put those high school and college years behind me and got a tattoo across my ribs that read:Only I define myself.
I don’t give a flick what others think about me, well…except for my family, friends, and Athena. But they’re all my biggest cheerleaders.
Succeeding at Power and learning all I can is part of my five-year plan to start up my own architectural firm. Adding the Friar project to my portfolio will only advance that goal.
I developed a passion for architecture in my teens, mesmerized by the towering skyscrapers in Chicago that stand alongside the old-world charm of historic buildings like the Rookery. I sometimes still walk there during lunch just to be inspired by the kind of design and engineering that leaves a lasting mark.
Athena’s office door is closed when we get there, and the glass wall that separates her from the bullpen is frosted for privacy. Nori takes a seat behind her desk. “She shouldn’t be too long.”
That puzzles me. I assumed Athena wanted to meet with us together. Could this mean she made a decision on the project and was telling Talon first? That would make sense, I suppose, if he’s the winner. But then I’ll have to watch him walk out with that gloating smile of his. Well, fine, I’d grin and bear it. Talon is a capable designer, if a bit conservative and traditional. He likes to color inside the lines, and some clients prefer that. We both got to pitch our ideas to real estate development mogul Brett Friar and his executives. We each had a fair shot.
“You okay?” Nori asks when I start pacing. She’s a sweet person; efficient at her job and an excellent addition to the team.
“I’m fine. Just curious.”
“You know, Athena; she gives nothing away.”
Including their relationship, which all of us in the bullpen suspect started several months ago, not long after Nori was hired. Since Athena is both discreet and protective of her personal life, I guess banging her assistant isn’t something she wants to advertise.
My attention is drawn away from my thoughts when I hear the heavy and quick thump of footsteps followed by the door flinging open. Talon charges out, nearly bowling me over.
“Bitch,” he mutters under his breath, and Nori and I exchange wide-eyed looks.
If the meeting was about the Friar account, Talon’s reaction conveyed that he didn’t get it, which would mean I did. Holy shit! I struggle to contain my premature glee.
