She scoffs and glares. “You’re serious?”
“Yes. You used to know the score, but lately it seems like you think you have some claim over me. A year ago, if I had put you off, you’d have thought nothing of it. Now you seem to take it personally.”
She crosses her arms and cocks out her hip. “Who is she?”
I motion to her. “This is exactly the kind of shit I’m talking about. It’s none of your business. And if there were someone, what would be the difference? I was clear about what this was the first time we hooked up, and you happily hopped on board.”
“So you’re just tossing me aside?”
“I’m telling you that it seems like things are getting complicated, and I don’t have time for complications in my life. Moving forward, our relationship will be strictly professional.”
Her eyes narrow. “You’re fucking the new girl, aren’t you?”
I roll my eyes. “I’m not, but if I were, it’s none of your business. You seem to forget that you work for me, Steph, not the other way around. If you don’t like it, leave.”
Steph leaving would be a loss that would be hard to replace, but if she’s going to cause me problems, it’s not worth keeping her.
Her arms drop to her sides, and she presses her lips together. Though she looks as if she wants to say something, she draws in a deep breath and stops herself. “Fine. Your loss.”
Without another word, she stalks from my office and slams the door.
Things will be touchy with her for a while I’m sure, but she’ll get over it. I never promised her anything, and I was clear from the start—and we both agreed—that us messing around was fun and nothing more.
My attempt to get back to work fails when three minutes later, I’m thinking about Hattie again. Things are progressing nicely. We’ve messed around, and she was actually desperate for me and what I’d give her. She’s gotten drunk, and I didn’t even have to facilitate that one myself. Imagine what I can do with a few more weeks under my belt.
I smirk and force myself to work for the remainder of the night.
On Sunday, I once again find myself following Hattie around Seattle.
Sure, recon isn’t anything new for me, but I’ve never been a guy who stalks women. From what I’ve read between the lines from my sister, her brother-in-law Nero might have stalked his now-wife at one time, and I remember thinking, “Why the fuck would anyone bother?”
I get it now, Nero.
When I heard Hattie leave the condo, I told myself not to bother, but the next thing I knew, there I was, putting on my shoes and racing to catch the elevator so that I could find her on the street before she was too far from view.
I’m not some fucking creep—at least I never used to be—but something about this woman gets under my skin. I don’t knowwhat it is, but a part of me wonders if I get my fill of her, will this sensation in my chest ease?
As she did last week, Hattie attends service at church, then walks to the soup kitchen to volunteer. I enjoy watching her move throughout the world and interact with others without her knowing that I’m standing sentinel.
I’ve given a lot of thought to how I want this to play out, when the best time to bed her will be, and I’ve decided that I want her begging for it. The two of us can screw around until then, but when I finally take her, and when she looks back on that moment for years to come, I want her to know that it was because she had to have it. That herundoing was her own doing.
And part of that won’t just be the physical satisfaction I can give her. Part of it will be the emotional connection she thinks we share. I need Hattie to fall in love with me so that when I finally expose the truth to her and Carla, it will be all that much more devastating. Maybe they’ll understand a shred of how I felt growing up with a mother who didn’t give two shits about me.
With a smirk, I walk away from the soup kitchen. I’ll put the next phase of my plan into motion tonight. I’m sure innocent Hattie will walk right into it.
When Hattie returns late afternoon, I make sure I’m in the living room, waiting.
“Hey, you’re home.” She sets her purse on the table near the front door.
I haven’t seen much of her this weekend, by my own design. Thankfully, after the distance, I have my head on straight, and I’m ready to move forward.
“I am. What did you do today?”
She joins me in the living area, taking a seat a few feet away from me on the large sectional. “I went to church and then did some volunteering at the soup kitchen.”
I nod and turn off the TV. “I was going to call you if you didn’t show up soon.”
“How come?” There’s anticipation in her gaze.
