Page 3 of The Woman

I begrudgingly hand my card over to the cashier and pay for everything, then leave, letting out a heavy breath as I sink into the back seat once again. It’s not until we’re halfway home that I realize I also need to get extra food for her to eat. Fuck.

Chapter 2

By the time I make it to O’Malleys, I’m in the shittiest of moods, and not even the hockey game they have playing on the screens can lift my spirits.

“Would you like to be seated in the VIP section, or will you be staying out here this evening, sir?”

I look to Derek, the host who has worked here for the past five years at least, and then glance around the room before my eyes land on Edison sitting by the bar.

“I’ll stay out here.”

“Very well,” he replies, nodding and leaving me be.

I walk over to Edison and slide onto the stool next to him, letting out a sigh of annoyance from the day I’ve had.

He turns his head of effortlessly coiffed blond hair my way and passes me the second beer that was sitting in front of him, frowning when he catches sight of my face.

“I thought we were celebrating? Why aren’t you smiling ear-to-ear after getting the promotion? Ah, who am I kidding? Your facial muscles don’t even know how to do that. But why does your face look like that?”

“I need something stronger than this,” I grumble, pushing the beer back to him and catching the bartender’s attention.

“What can I get you, sir?”

“Give me a shot of Macallan. Actually, make it two.”

“Whoa. The last time you drank like this, you lost the contract to design that island hotel. What the hell happened?” Edison asks.

The bartender places both shots in front of me and then lingers there like he’s waiting to hear some secrets he can maybe sell.

We should have sat in the VIP section. Anybody who works in there signs an NDA, preventing them from acquiring information and then selling it to our competitors. They’re always trying to do that with any big businesses.

“Leave,” I demand. Once he shuffles away, I swallow down my first shot and turn back to Edison. “I have to pick a woman tomorrow.”

His eyes widen, the frown disappearing. “What? Really? Why do you look so angry about it?”

I scowl in his direction before swallowing down the second one and setting the glass down roughly in front of me. “You know my focus is my career. Do you have any idea how much she’s going to annoy me? Always being in my home or in my way.” My gaze drifts to the side as I picture it, my jaw clenching. “I’ll have to think of her well-being as well instead of focusing on work. It’s just a hassle I don’t need.”

His lips twitch. “You’re literally the only guy I know that’s pissed about having to have a woman. And getting to pick her, no less. So many guys would love to be in your position, me included. Besides, it’s not like you didn’t know it was coming, whether it was now or in five years.“ An irritated groan rumbles from my throat, to which he adds, “Okay, okay, well, just tell your grandfather you don’t want one now, then.”

The tone of his voice sounds like he’s being sincere, but the sparkle in his light-blue eyes and the smile he’s trying to contain tell me that he finds my predicament amusing rather than a major inconvenience.

He’s the light and easy-going to my serious, slightly up-tight persona and one of the only ones who talks to me the way he does, earning my respect. We’ve known each other for twenty years and have been best friends for most of that. It’s the only reason why I feel comfortable enough admitting to him that I don’t want one.

“I can’t tell him any such thing,” I answer, appalled at the very idea. “He’s proud that I’m following in his and my father’s footsteps in not only the company but also being able to pick a woman at twenty-five. It looks good for our family line, and I’m not going to fuck it up.”

He full-on smiles now, then takes a swig of his beer before speaking, “Then I guess you gotta suck it up, buttercup, and stop being so pissy about it. Besides, I’ve heard sex can be unreal.”

Men who have their woman have a tendency to talk about their sex life, and I have heard the same comments over the years. But I resist letting my mind wander to the videos I watched several hundred times when I was eighteen. Edison doesn’t know just how obsessive I got over it at one point.

A distraction. That’s all that was.

But I’m not going to let it consume me like it did when I was young. I would rather focus and continue advancing in the company and maybe eventually make it to number one in America.

Besides, who wants someone around who doesn’t challenge them or make them a better person?

“I don’t see what’s appealing about having someone around who doesn’t really think for themselves, has no emotions except being happy all of the time, and only does what you tell them.”

“You like telling people what to do.” I do, but not always with no resistance. And who wants to have sex with a rag-doll? “I think she’ll be good for you. You can let go a little.”

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