Page 39 of Selfish Desires

“That’s not what I need the week for.” Vincent scrambled to his feet but didn’t take a step closer. “Let me explain.”

“No!” I fired back, inhaling. “No. You really messed me up, Vincent. And after three years, I was finally feeling okay. But now, you’re back, and I can handle whatever we’ve done. But if you think I will take this an inch deeper, knowing you’re uncertain about what I’m asking to make this work, then we’ll stop here.”

“I just need a few days, Wendy. That’s all I ask.” Vincent inched toward me. “Just as you’ve built a life here, I also built a life down there. I can’t just abandon it.”

“But you expected me to abandon mine for you.” I shook my head, realizing this might be the end. I was so stupid.

“You're twisting my words.” Vincent's voice cracked.

“Am I?” I shot back, the bitterness in my tone stronger than I intended. “Or is this just the sad truth of who you are?”

Vincent stood silent momentarily, his eyes scanning me as if trying to read a map of my emotions, figuring out where he had lost his way. “It's not that simple,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Well, it should be.” I pressed against the swinging door, ready to leave. “Leave tonight. And while you’re gone, don’t contact me because I won’t answer.” My shoulder inched the door ajar, and the cooler air from the dining room brushed against the back of my neck. “If I don’t hear from you in seven days, that’ll be our answer.”

Seven days. I couldn’t believe I offered seven days for Vincent to make a decision. And if he actually took that long to decide what he wanted, I wasn’t even sure if I would even take him back.

It wasn’t even twenty-four hours since I saw Wendy, and I was losing my absolute fucking mind. And here she thought I’d need a whole goddamn week to figure out a life without her. Was she crazy, or was I? Then, I started to think how my life was about to drastically change.

Give up everything. Just give it up. Forget about making a living, waking up and knowing where I would be going to work. That wouldn’t matter anymore, according to Wendy’s plan. She made it sound so simple, and maybe it was. Because the alternative meant a life without Wendy, and after living like that for years, I couldn’t do it anymore. I needed Wendy in my life, and all I needed to do was figure out how to shut my life down…like now.

Sunlight spilled into my empty office, the rays of yellow piercing the center of the room. What a perfect day, almost as if Mother Nature mocked the storm clouds, refusing to recede in my brain. I slid my hand over the mahogany desk, pacing around the minimalist space, kicking up dust that swirled around in the sunlight. Suddenly, the room felt too big, a cavernous silence echoing around me. On one side was my life—the poker games, the thrill of the risk, the uncertain future. On the other side was Wendy—her brown eyes, her laughter, and our comfortable moments of silence that spoke volumes. I stood transfixed by the window, watching people below scurry about their lives, oblivious to my turmoil. The world kept turning even when mine felt paused indefinitely.

If I didn’t act now, I would regret it forever. There was no other alternative, I had to go back to Wendy.

A sharp knock snapped me from my thoughts as I jerked my head away from the cool glass.

“Come in!” I answered, clearing my throat.

A second later, Amber, one of the head cocktail waitresses, sauntered into the room, casting green smoldering eyes in my direction while holding up a small circular brown drink tray, cradling a single tumbler of clear liquid.

“Your vodka, Mr. Press?” She extended the crystal cup to me, and I took it with a moment’s hesitation.

I swirled the liquid around before downing half of it. God, I would miss this. Knowing that just beyond the door, men were losing their careers, only to hand it over to me because their debts were too big to pay off within a reasonable amount of time. And, if their wives found out about their staggering debts all because they couldn’t quell their addictions, they were probably worse off. Ugh, this was going to suck. Really fucking suck.

What would I do? And what if the rest of my life was spent trying to prove to Wendy that I was a better man and could be forgiven? I was ready to grovel like there was no tomorrow, but I didn’t expect this…ultimatum.

“That’ll be all, Amber,” I said, my voice rough around the edges. She lingered for a moment longer than necessary, flashing a sly smile. “What?” My eyes scanned the girl, and her spicy, flowery perfume suddenly filled my nostrils. The way her black lace dress accentuated every curve of her body, pushing her supple tits just high enough to grab any man’s attention, let alone mine. Her legs carried her closer to me as a fire ignited in her dangerous eyes.

“You seem tense.” Amber bit her bottom lip as she smiled through her exposed white teeth.

I backed away from her prowl until the backs of my legs hit the brown leather chair, forcing me to sit. “I'm fine,” I assured her, my voice a few notes lower than before as my gaze dropped to the floor. “Thanks, Amber. That's all.”

“Are you sure?” She sauntered around the desk, the high heels echoing on the polished concrete floor of my office. Her sweet vanilla scent grew stronger with every step she took, and I could almost taste the floral and spice notes mixed with a hint of danger in the air.

The intoxicating scent wrapped around me, coaxing an unwanted response from my body. I gritted my teeth against it. No, I wasn't going to fall into this again. Amber was an escape route I'd taken far too many times already.

“I'm positive,” I retorted with some effort, pulling my gaze up to meet hers again. Heat flared in her eyes at the cold dismissal, but she wasn’t retreating. Instead, she dropped to her knees, her lacquered red nails running the lengths of my thighs, and I wasn’t stopping her either.

“The game’s getting tense out there.” Amber ran her tongue between her thick lips, nails digging into the gray fabric covering my legs. “Are you sure you don’t want to go out there and watch?”

“No, but thanks for the update, Amber,” I answered, trying to keep my voice even. The need for her touch had receded, replaced by an overwhelming sense of guilt. What was I even doing allowing this girl to touch me? Wendy was right about this life and why she couldn’t trust it. Too many things could go wrong. Too much temptation. Not that I had ever cheated on Wendy before, but this whole life I had built for myself was sordid. And, in the short time from seeing Wendy again, things had changed. Whatever response Amber tried to extract from my body wouldn’t happen. I didn’t want anyone’s hands to touch me other than Wendy’s. I didn’t want anyone other than Wendy, period.

As Amber's hands began to slide up my thighs, heading straight to my dick, I quickly stood, inadvertently knocking her back in the process. She fell onto her ass, staring up at me half mortified.

“But…Mr. Press,” she stammered, scrambling to get up and fix her disheveled dress.

“I’m sorry. I think it’s a good idea for you to leave now.” I jammed my hands into my pockets, turning my back to her.

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