Page 5 of Obsessive Cravings

“Holy shit! Who do I have to blow to get this in my apartment?”

I crossed my arms, not sure how I felt about someone I didn’t even know assuming I’d dropped to my knees for some sugar daddy.

“Oh, sorry. Not implying you did that,” she said, holding her hands up.

“Thank you, because I didn’t.” Although the thought of dropping to my knees and having Greyson Tides as my sugar daddy didn’t make me as uncomfortable as it should have. Old man with grandkids, Riley, I reminded myself, pushing the image from my head.

“What happened to your plethora of furniture?” Ava asked, looking around.

“I sold it. I was planning to shop for new stuff today but…” How did I explain the generous offer that seemed to hold its own implications now that I had to say it out loud? I didn’t think redecorating apartments came without a cost, nor that it was something normal for new employees. I was sure Ken didn’t get the same perk when he joined the firm. The thought should have left me unnerved, but anticipation shivered through me instead.

“But?” she asked, taking in my new digs.

“It was part of my sign-on bonus at the firm.”

“Damn. What firm is that and how do I get a job there?” She sat at the table, her ripped jeans exposing her entire kneecap. Today she had a streak of pink going through her blonde curls, which she’d tied in two ponytails. She wore a long-sleeved black shirt with the words ‘suck it or f*ck it’ on the front.

I could only imagine Mason’s reaction to her. He was so in control, so particular about his image and the brands he wore. Ava was nothing like anyone he would have let me hang out with. He’d always vetted my friends, steering me toward the more elite ones. I rebelled with the men I dated, which drove him crazy, and now that I knew who he really was, I understood why they always left and broke my heart. It wasn’t until the last one that I’d been smart enough to hide it from him. But it was the last one who had shattered me completely and left Mason falsely assured that I would never rebel again.

“I’m a financial planner,” I told Ava. “I work in the Tides Building on 22nd.” After my first day, I discovered that the building had a name, and I was the only one in the city who didn’t know who owned it.

“You work for Greyson Tides?” Her eyes had gone wide, and she said his name in a hush.

“I suppose you could say that. I’ve never met him, but he owns the firm and apparently the building,” I said with a shrug.

“And everything else in the city.”

“Do you know him?”

Her laugh was loud and accompanied by a snort. “I don’t hang with that crowd. Although I’m not sure he has a crowd. He’s pretty aloof, keeps to himself. I’ve never seen him.”

“Huh.” My infatuation with a man I’d never met was growing, and I didn’t know what to make of it.

“I don’t have to go into work until six tonight. I’m procrastinating and looking for an excuse to get out. Got any plans?”

I gave her a smile. “Nope, just a lot of cash to spend from selling my furniture and a need to spend it. Is there shopping in town?”

“Is there ever,” she said, her eyes bright with excitement. “Come on, I’ll help you spend that money.”

She didn’t give me time to say no, hopping up and telling me to be ready in twenty minutes. Sighing, I took a quick shower and dressed. Since I hadn’t bothered washing my hair, I was trying to get it to do anything cute when Ava returned.

“Here,” she said, dropping her purse and snatching my brush from my hand.

After rummaging through my bathroom, she returned with some bobby pins and proceeded to pile my hair up so that I looked like I’d spent an hour getting it styled. I peered at it in the mirror, wondering why it never looked that cute when I fixed it.

“I did a stint at a hair salon before I decided to go to grad school,” she admitted with a shrug. “I learned a few tricks while I was answering the phone and sweeping up.”

“I’d say you learned a lot of tricks. This is fantastic. Can you do my hair every morning?”

With a laugh, she handed me my coat and headed for the door. “I’ll give you a few pointers,” she said as we headed out of the building.

We chatted as we made our way uptown to the shopping district. Bridgeville was an enormous city, divided into districts. There was the financial or business district where I worked, the shopping district, which was home to boutique stores and name brand stores that catered to the more affluent shoppers, and a food district where local bars and eateries lined the streets. There were, of course, exceptions, like my coffee shop and small shops and restaurants that were more geared to the locals. As Ava and I hopped from store to store, my hands filling increasingly with bags, I got to know her better, discovering that bartending was a side gig to help with books and supplies she needed for school. After graduating with a degree in art history, she’d taken four years off to travel and work before pursuing her graduate degree.

“Does bartending pay enough to cover tuition?” I asked, chomping on a hotdog from a street vendor.

“No,” she said, moving a napkin just in time to catch the mustard that fell from it. I gave her a smile through my chews. “My uncle lives here, and he offered to pay for school if I came to Bridgeville.”

“That’s really nice. Do you get to see him often?”

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