Page 32 of The Southern Thirst Trap

Layla’s smile drops and her cheeks grow red. “I’m sorry, I’m only allowed to contact the administrative staff for the C-suite. I can’t just call any of the Olsens outright.”

I wave a hand like it’s nothing, when I want to grab her phone myself and start mashing buttons. “That would be fine. Would you mind reaching out to Zander’s admin? I would love to catch him before he leaves for the day, if possible.”

She nods, seeming relieved by my understanding attitude.

I tamp down my impatience and frustration. I just want to get this over with. I don’t expect Zander to change his mind when he finds out, but, well, hemight. I know there is a decent man in there somewhere, no matter what a dick he became when we boarded that jet and returned home.

I look over at the bank of elevators and notice that the people getting on them are using passes to make them rise. Fuck. Even if I managed to get into an elevator, I wouldn’t be able to go anywhere without one of those, so I can’t just bluster my way onto one and go to the highest floor. I need a way in, and it’s at Zander’s, or his admin’s, blessing.

Layla sets down her phone and looks over at me with a frown. “I’m sorry, Mr. Olsen–Zander–” she clarifies, since three Olsen brothers run this company, “isn’t expecting any visitors, and is very busy and can’t make any room in his schedule to see an old friend.”

“It really is important that I speak to him, as this is the only day I’m in town. Can you please try again and let his admin know to tell him that it’s Harlowe Sorenson to see him?” I don't know if that will help or hurt my cause, but it’s all I can try at this point.

“I’ll try,” Layla says, sounding a little annoyed with me now that I’m becoming more insistent and making her attempt the call again. I’m sure the admin she’s speaking to is a real ball-buster, used to talking down to anyone below the top floor of the building, and a lowly receptionist trying to get an unexpected visitor clearance to see the CEO is going to get a brutal dismissal.

I step away from the desk to give the girl a chance to say whatever she needs to as I feign disinterest. When she looks my way again, I smile and make my way toward the desk.

“Any luck?” I ask.

“She said to have a seat and she would see what she could do.”

“Thank you for your help,” I say, feeling trepidation, since it’s not a pass to the top floor or Zander striding down here when he heard my name and taking me in his arms and telling me he was so fucking wrong to push me away. I sit in the lobby and count the minutes as I wait. I watch as employees begin to leave around five, and the building starts to empty out. Layla the receptionist shuts down her desk at five-thirty and I’m still waiting. I grab her arm before she can slink out of the lobby completely.

“Hey, what’s the deal?” I ask, blocking her exit.

“I don’t know, his admin never called back. I’m off the clock now, so it’s not my problem anymore.”

I’m furious as she darts around me and leaves. I turn back to the bank of elevators and march over to them, beginning to push the button and hoping a door will miraculously open and I can get somewhere on one. An elevator door opens then, and a huge man steps out and I take a step back out of habit.

I know at a glance that this has to be one of Zander’s brothers. They have the same dark hair, similar jawlines and builds, though his is definitely the gym-made kind, and his eyes are a piercing dark green. He doesn’t look friendly as he eyes me up and down.

“Are you Harlowe Sorenson?” His voice is a deep baritone that registers as vaguely familiar because it sounds a bit like Zander’s, and there is a pang of longing that hits me from that little bit of home in the tone. I nod in acknowledgment. It’s quickly shut down when he indicates I step into the elevator with him.

“I’m Hayes Olsen. If you would follow me, please.”

Every instinct in me is screaming not to go anywhere with him. He feels like certain death, and I don't know why. He’s handsome enough, he’s a successful businessman and Zander’s brother, but there is something unsettling about him, like he handles the unsavory aspects of the business, or he’s the one they turn to when they need to get their hands dirty, and he enjoys it a little too much. I swallow as I realize I could be one of those unsavory aspects of business now that I’m on the wrong side of Zander’s one-and-done conquests. I’ve heard from model friends about being thrown out of his penthouse by one of the brothers with an NDA in hand.

Despite every part of me that thinks this could be a bad idea, it could also be my only way to see Zander now. I step into the elevator and Hayes lets the door slide shut. I feel my hands start to shake. He slides a card over a reader and hits a button on the panel, but it’s not one of the top-floor numbers, and I know I won’t be taken to see Zander after all. I deflate a little, but try to change tactics.

“Does Zander always send his brothers to collect his friends when they stop by to see him?” I ask, a friendly note masking the fear I feel. I’m performing any role I can to get through this.

“Zander doesn’t have female friends,” Hayes says without humor as the elevator starts to rise with surprising speed.

I roll my eyes. “No, he has women he fucks and then is done with them,” I murmur.

I can feel Hayes’s head turn to me and I’m sure he’s appraising me. I look over and meet his scary green stare. It’s deep and is, in fact, taking my measure. I will myself to quit being a little bitch and stop shaking. Instead, I grasp the anger of being dismissed, underestimated, and counted out and use it to give me a bit more of a backbone now, when I need it most. I stand up straighter and lift my chin, rising to my full height and more in my four-inch Louboutin heels. I can stare him dead in the eye, though he may have an inch or two on me.

“I was one of those women. I can tell you think I’m a problem, but I don't intend to be. I just need to talk to Zander. Give me five minutes with him. That’s all I need. Then I’ll sign whatever you want and be out of your hair.” Honest, to the point. I’m a good girl you can trust, is what I’m trying to tell him. Not a problem in the least.

“That’s not how this works. That’s not how Zander works.”

“You don’t understand. This is important. I just need to speak with Zander directly. I tried calling, texting, social media, but everything has been blocked. I tried calling here and got nowhere. This is my only option. I wouldn’t be here otherwise. I want nothing to do with him,” I promise, even if there is still a part of me that would like something to do with him, hurt and all.

The elevator stops and the doors open to a floor that appears vacant of employees and leads directly into a conference room that is lit and has a stack of papers on the table. Hayes extends his arm for me to exit the elevator ahead of him.

“Please, I’m begging you. I just need to speak to Zander. Two minutes even. I can be brief. I don't need much time. I’ll leave as soon as I speak to him.” I’m walking backward, resorting to pleading as I enter the conference room, Hayes following me, his face looking impassive, stoic, unimpressed. He really was a good option to send, as intimidating as he is and as unwilling to be swayed as he seems to be.

“I’m sorry you had to experience the worst of my youngest brother’s qualities, Ms. Sorenson. I really am. I make no excuses for why he is the way he is. Zander is a compulsive womanizer. His actions are deplorable more often than not, and he makes no excuses for his own behavior, reveling in the fact that he only spends one night with a woman before he loses interest in them. I know that can be hard when he sells you a story of how special you are to get you into bed.” He pulls out the chair in front of the stack of papers for me to sit.

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