Page 28 of Fractured Fear

“Oh, it’s not always in the bedroom. Sometimes it’s?—”

I cut her off with a scowl.

“Got it. No talking about Hayes and his monster dick,” she hops off the desk with too much pep in her high heeled step. “I’ll go tell Alma.”

I make a point of rolling my eyes so she notices.

She just laughs at my distress and continues on her merry way.

With Iris gone I’m under the impression I can work in peace, but that illusion is shattered when the bane of my existence walks in. Lance Fucking Richards. He used to make me feel uncomfortable with his sly touches and subtle innuendos. The only person that thought he was slick, was himself.

Now he just pisses me off.

He’s wearing a designer, light gray suit with an unbuttoned, pastel pink dress shirt, a matching pocket square, and shiny black loafers. His pale tuscan hair is parted on the side and styled to give the impression of volume with what I’m sure is copious amounts of expensive hair gel. He tries to come off cool with his high-end sunglasses that he doesn’t actually need since it’s overcast outside. Don’t get me started on what he’s obviously compensating for with his cherry-red Ferrari parked out front.

It’s true what they say, you can’t buy taste.

“Spencer, my dear.” Just the way he says my name makes me want to buy a lifetime supply of earplugs. His eyes sweep over me in a way that makes me feel like I need a shower. His gaze sticks to my mouth and the red lipstick. Damn Morning Spencer for thinking that was a good idea.

“How are you? How is business?” He asks, as if we both don’t know how this is going to go. It’s what he always does. He asks about business, I tell him it’s going great, he asks if he can take me out, I tell him no, and he tries to convince me I’m missing out on an extravagant date. Sometimes he buys a couple paintings hanging on the wall for more than the asking price.

I don’t know why he thinks that would impress me. I don’t even paint. Not that he knows, he’s never fucking asked.

“What do you want, Lance?” I ask, trying to sound bored. I need to stay professional, but my patience is absent when it comes to him.

I stand on my three-inch heels and cross my arms. My new height puts me at eye level with him so he can’t look down at me and use his stature to make me feel small. Other men have done it and I refuse to let this douchebag do the same and succeed.

He smiles at me in a way I’m sure he thinks comes off as charming, but it just adds to my annoyance. He flashes a smile at me so full it makes the corner of his eyes crease. He probably thinks it’s charming but his Cheshire smile creeps me out and just adds to my annoyance.

Fuck him for invading my happy Saturday.

“I have an extra ticket to a gala tonight at The Plaza. I need someone on my arm at the event and I figured since you’re a single woman, you’d be perfect.”

Is he fucking kidding right now? He wants me to be his arm candy at some ritzy event where I’ll be bored and miserable as hell. Of course, that doesn’t matter to him, as long as he looks good in the process.

And he just assumed since I’m single that I would be available at the last minute? Wow.

Thank God I can actually say I’m busy. I’ll always be too busy to spend time with this gnat of a man.

“I can’t. I have plans.” He doesn’t need more detail than that.

He condescends in his airy voice that grates on my nerves. “Surely you can reschedule.” He inches closer as if I welcomed him into my space.

Oh. My. God. This is how I lose my mind, isn’t it? I’m finally going to snap.

“No, actually. I can’t reschedule,” I state with a firm voice, bordering on brash.

“Oh God. Lance? Seriously? What is it you want this time?” Iris chides as she saunters up next to me. Her stance mirrors my own. I mentally pull out the popcorn because on the occasion that Iris is here when Lance stops by, she rips him apart like a lion eating its prey.

“Not that it’s any of your business, but I was just extending an invitation to Spencer to attend a gala at The Plaza with me tonight.”

“She can’t. She has plans.”

“Plans she can reschedule.”

“That’s quite the assumption, Mr. Small Dick Energy,” Iris gives him her best inconvenienced look then waves her hand to shoo him away. “Run along and find someone else to take to your boring event. Better yet, don’t. The female population does not deserve your whiny voice screeching in their ears. As a parting gift, here’s some free advice: you need to stop shopping for yourself. That outfit is not doing you any favors. Have you tried not shopping with your eyes closed? It makes a difference, I promise.”

“That’s no way to talk to a customer.” He tries to sound like he’s asserting authority, but it comes off as querulous.

---