Page 121 of Lorcan's Obsession

The nerve of the fucking bastard! Telling me to my face I would fuck up, and claiming he’d pick up the pieces. Who the hell did he think he was?

By the time I arrived at the office, my jaw was sore from clenching it, my fingers ached from their death grip on the wheel, and my mood was as sour as a basket of rotten lemons. Unfortunately, I had to put these murderous thoughts aside. I had to be a businessman now, not a slighted lover.

After the success of the lawsuit with Gremco, my dad’s faith in my capabilities soared. Now, not only was he confident I’d do a great job establishing our presence in this country, he wanted to expand across the entire region. His business strategy was to acquire smaller companies and utilize their established distribution routes. My secretary left a folder on my desk with information about the first company we’d acquire.

As I began perusing their financial statements and other pertinent statistics, my mind wandered to the future. This project would keep me locked in Dubai for a minimum of six months. During that time, Tristen would complete her undergrad and start her master's. What if she got accepted to her dream college in New York? Could our relationship survive long distance?

One step at a time, I chastised myself. We'd figure out where we went together. Right now, I would cling to the fact that I was going to Tristen's home this coming weekend.

The rest of the week was cram-packed with meetings as I worked to get the M&A up and running. Tristen was studying for finals ten hours a day, so we only managed to steal time to chat in the evenings before our bedtime. By the time Friday afternoon crawled up, I was ready to squeeze my girl into the tightest embrace and be buried inside her all weekend. The sooner Tris shared her address, the sooner I could relieve both our stresses. It wasn’t that big a deal to come tonight rather than tomorrow, right?

Tristen, however, didn’t see it that way.

“No, I’m not ready! I said Saturday!”

“Do you have plans tonight or something?”

“No, I just—”

“Then I don’t understand what the problem is, babe. What’s the big difference between tonight and tomorrow?”

“Because I told you Saturday morning, Lorcan. You need to respect that. Besides, I don’t have the place ready for you yet. There’s a couple of things I need to tie off before you get here.”

Huffing in frustration, I pinched the bridge of my nose. Calm down, Lorcan. Don't fight with your girlfriend. This weekend is supposed to be about you two taking that final leap together.

“Baby, I don’t need the place to be perfect,” I said sweetly. “I just need you. This week’s been hellish, and I want to feel better by giving you countless orgasms. Don’t you want that, my love?”

“Of course I do, sweetie,” she purred over the phone. “I can't wait to be under you, on top of you, and on my knees sucking you off. But you have to wait just one more day. Please.”

Full disclosure, I might have stopped listening at "on my knees." But it wouldn’t have mattered; I had lost the argument before it had even begun.

“Now, I’ve gotta get some stuff done, okay?” Tristen soothed. “Call me tonight. I’ll see you tomorrow. Mwah.”

She ended the call. My temples throbbed, and my nerves were taut. I needed an outlet, and the gym wouldn’t do it today. So I took a drive.

Twenty minutes later, I parked my car at the Mall of the Emirates, ready to swipe my black card across several luxury stores. As I rode the escalators to the guest concierge, a wall of dusty-pink roses with green-edged ruffles caught my eye. They were stunning. One of a kind. My immediate thought was to order a similar wall and have it installed at Tristen’s place, but that had to wait until I knew where she lived. For now, a large bouquet to deliver tomorrow would do.

The store attendant flashed me a wide grin as I entered the exotic and blissfully scented store. Flowers and baking had been my mother’s passion, and she’d passed on that love in the many hours we had spent together.

What would Tristen like? Roses? No, that was too basic for my crafty lawyer. Would she want something more exotic, like orchids? Calatheas? Tiger lilies?

A display of royal anthuriums caught my eye. Their wide leaves and bright colors brought the air alive with passion, seduction, and beauty. It was the perfect peace offering for Tristen.

While the floral arrangement was being prepared, I passed the time mindlessly strolling inside the French retail giant, Carrefour. The hypermarket had a larger-than-life feel, and its most stunning centerpiece was the fresh seafood display. I idled there for a few minutes, watching the live feed of old fishermen in their traditional boats.

From there, I leisurely strolled along the frozen foods and dairy aisles. The open chillers blasted cold air, and sharp, bright lights shone from the high ceiling. At the opposite end of the aisle, thousands of snacks and mouthwatering treats were a sight to behold. But that’s not what caught my attention. A woman was struggling with items in her cart, nearly bent over from the effort. And, well, she was packing a hell of an ass beneath those bright red booty shorts. That was the real cake in the aisle.

I’m only human, okay?

The lady straightened up and pushed her trolley further away from me, quickly lost in the crowds. Monkey brain took over for a minute, and I began to blindly walk in her direction. Almost immediately, my conscience reproached me. I shouldn't be trailing a random hottie when I had Tristen. She loved me deeply, and had an ass to kill for.

Plus, if I saw Tristen trailing some random guy because he wore a tank that showcased his insane biceps, I probably wouldn't be so dismissive. I had to play fair, goose and gander and all that.

Shaking my head, I shoved my hands deep in my pockets and began meandering toward the exit. I was lost in thoughts of my girl when those red shorts waved in front of my vision like a matador’s cape. The lady was on her tiptoes, reaching for canned goods on a high shelf. Her figure and height were oddly familiar. I cocked my head. Was…was that Tristen?

For a second, I considered calling out her name, but that would be uncomfortable if this woman wasn’t Tristen. Still, curiosity was getting the better of me. If I casually got close and passed by, I could take a quick peek at the shopper as I went. No harm, no foul.

I needed a trolley to blend in, but if I went back to the front to get one, I might lose this lady again. Looking around, I spotted an unmanned handbasket on the floor. Nobody was in sight, nor did anyone show up in the ten seconds I waited. Its owner was probably off getting more items, but hey, finders keepers.

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