“But I love you, Harrison. You’re it for me,” she pouts.
“No, you love the idea of me. Which is beside the point because I could never love you.” She winces. I would feel bad if I didn’t know that this was all for show. As it is, I know that she’s putting on a show. She’s not in love with me. Never was. She’s in love with my money and the potential my name will give her.
Vera turns and walks towards the door to my office. Before she leaves, she turns and gives me a hard look, showing me exactly what I knew was underneath the act—a conniving woman looking to advance her career. “This isn’t over, Harrison.”
I shake my head at her sheer stubbornness. She’s dead wrong if she thinks we will ever get back together. Vera is just one of the many reasons why I’m done with dating. Even one-night stands are too much work. And marriage? Love? Utter bullshit.
Looking at the clock, I notice it’s almost time to leave to meet my Aunt Rita for our weekly brunch. I can only imagine what Rita would say if she could read my thoughts right now. She’s a relationship guru and matchmaker who believes in true love. Granted, she did have a storybook romance with my Uncle Jules who died twenty years ago. His death left Rita broken-hearted, but she never gave up on the idea of true love.
If you ask her, she’ll tell you that Jules was her one and only love and that she’s one of the lucky ones. This belief in true love is why she expanded from just an advice column to amatchmaking service. Even I can admit that her success rate is staggering… but time will be the real test.
The newlywed phase doesn’t last forever, and people’s true colors eventually shine through. Love sours. My parents are the perfect example of love gone wrong. What can I say? I’m thirty-five and jaded as fuck.
I don’t have time, nor the inclination to fall in love. Love is bullshit. Hell, even dating is too much effort. Vera is the perfect example of how horrible an idea that one is. One-night stands are exhausting and not in a good way. Could I use a night to blow off some steam? Absolutely, but the idea of kicking some woman out of my bed the next day makes me cringe.
I’m starting to think my friend Jonathon’s appreciation for escorts isn’t such a bad thing. Paying for sex isn’t for me, but I can see the appeal—sex minus all the bullshit.
The alarm on my phone goes off, indicating that it’s time to leave for my brunch date with Rita. I pull on my suit jacket and leave the office, appreciating that my driver is waiting for me when I get downstairs. Competent employees are hard to come by.
“Mr. James,” my driver says, tipping his hat as he opens my door.
“Carl.”
I spend the drive responding to emails. Thirty minutes later, Carl is dropping me off in front of Sterling Towers, where Rita’s new offices are located.
When I get to Rita’s office, I know instantly something is off. She has a worried look on her face. “What’s wrong?” I ask.
“I completely forgot we were meeting today!” she says, sounding totally sincere even though I know she would never forget one of our lunches. Especially considering that we meet every Thursday at eleven. “I have a new client coming any minute now.”
“We can reschedule for another day.” I make the offer knowing that canceling isn’t going to happen. Rita insists on our weekly meals because she says I’d lock myself away in my tower if it wasn’t for her. She’s probably not wrong. My business is everything.
“No, no, my meeting shouldn’t take long. An hour at the most. Why don’t you meet me back here at twelve?”
I let out a rough sigh knowing that I’m not going to deny her even though it’s an inconvenience. Anyone else and I’d jump down their throats and blow them off. Never Rita. “Okay. I can rearrange my one o’clock,” I say, giving her a smile that isn’t forced despite my mild frustration.
“Oh good!” she says, rounding her desk to come hug me. Her intercom buzzes, and her assistant Shannon’s voice comes through the speaker, letting her know her client is here. She releases me after another moment, and we walk together to the door.
“I’m sorry, Harrison,” Rita apologizes again.
“It’s okay. I’ll be back in an hour.”
As I’m leaving, I pass a gorgeous woman waiting in the little sitting area—probably Rita’s newest client. Another fool looking for love. I instantly write her off despite the sudden jolt of attraction I feel toward her. She’s got long, curly blonde hair and bright blue eyes. She looks up at me then quickly averts her gaze.
Interesting. I shake myself. No, not interesting. She’s nothing. I push all thoughts of her out of my mind as the elevator doors close and whisk me down to the ground floor.
CHAPTER
THREE
OLIVE
My phone ringingdraws me out of my racing thoughts. I’m at the panic over self-imposed deadlines stage of writer’s block. Honestly, the call is a much-appreciated distraction. A quick glance at my phone shows me a number I don’t recognize. Honestly, I’d talk to the people who promise lower interest rates for credit cards I don’t have or those people who want to warn me about my social security number being hacked—anything to get me out of my panic spiral.
“Hello?”
“Hi, may I speak with Olive Lively?”
“This is Olive. How can I help you?”
