Page 52 of Descent

Sighing, I get to the point. “Do you have a key to my apartment now?”

“Well, I couldn’t very well wait for you to give me one,” he answers, like that’s a reasonable thing to say.

My eyes widen. “I would never give you one!”

“Exactly.”

I huff with annoyance. “You are an infuriating man.”

“You are a beautiful woman,” he answers immediately. “What should we do tonight? Dinner? Movie? Museum? I bet you love museums.”

“What I love,” I type back, “is not being blackmailed into ‘dates’ by a lunatic.”

“Unfortunately, that I cannot help you with.” A few seconds later he adds, “Tell you what, I’ll make the plans, you just be ready to go at 8 o’clock.”

Narrowing my eyes, I type back, “I did not say I would go out with you tonight.”

Almost instantly, the infuriating words, “I know. I did,” flash across my phone screen. As if that’s not obnoxious enough, he adds, “8 o’clock. Don’t keep me waiting.”

I’ll keep you waiting, all right.

“I realize this word doesn’t mean much to you, but I’m going to try it out anyway: NO.”

“You’re right,” he answers. “It doesn’t mean much to me. I’ll see you at eight.”

The arrogance of this man, honestly. Like I’m going to jump just because he tells me to. I may have agreed to go on one last “date” with him, but I didn’t say I’d do it tonight. It’s too soon. I haven’t even recovered from our last encounter yet.

As if he can hear my thoughts, he sends me another message, thwarting any notion I might have of standing him up again. “And remember, if you think to keep me waiting tonight, I can just let myself in.”

I suck in a breath at the mere thought of him storming uninvited into my home.

Another message appears. “So, by all means, if you’d like help getting dressed…”

My shoulders slump in defeat, but the rest of me isn’t ready to give up yet. I type back a few different responses, each more frustrated than the last, but the one I end up sending is a succinct, “Fine.” I hate seeing the word on the screen. I type one more line that I hate even more, but I remind myself this is the last time.

I only have to make it through one more night with him, then I’m free. Then I’ll never have to see Calvin Cutler ever again.

Chapter Fifteen

Calvin

“You win.”

I smile as I read the message a second time, then I type back, “Good. You know how I like winning.”

I know it’s dickish to rub her defeat in her face. I don’t even mean to be cruel, I just want to see if she’ll keep bantering with me or if she’s truly done. I only let a few seconds pass without a response, then I shoot her one last message to end the conversation myself, just telling her I’ll see her tonight.

I can’t wait.

I don’t tell her that, but I really can’t.

It’s fucking absurd to waste my last promised date with her tonight when I just spent last night with her. Typically, I have better control of my impulses than this, but I can’t stomach the idea of not spending tonight with her.

Then what will you do tomorrow?

Since my date supply is running dangerously low, I have to start setting up plans C through Z. Typically, my battle plans would be laid out long before I would ever need to enact them, but everything about this woman has me going off-plan, to say the very least.

I glance toward my open office door to see if Arson is here yet, then check my watch again because I don’t even see him at reception.

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