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“You’re annoying.”
And you’re a vapid bitch. “What can I help you with?”
Saylor settles into her seat, turns on her computer, and seamlessly switches into an executive assistant–professional, efficient, and untouchable.
Thank you, Madyson, for interrupting and reminding her I have horrible taste in women. I don’t blame her for not wanting to be tossed into the same category as my ex. My only excuse is I was focused on the team, and she was a damn good actress.
“Can you get me tickets to the game?”
You’ve got to be kidding me. “Why would I do that?”
I pace the floor as anger radiates through me. She embarrassed me and used me. She sucked a guy’s dick in the seat I’d vacated–and I owe her tickets to a football game so she can find another sucker to fall for her? Not going to happen.
Saylor taps on her cellphone and frowns.
“I’m not kidding. You owe me that.”
I don’t owe you anything. My jaw flexes. Who does she think she is? I broke up with her, and that should be the end. The second I get off the phone, I’m blocking this number and all the other numbers she uses.
Saylor stands and grabs her purse. “I’ll leave you to finish this in private.”
Her eyes are glued to the hallway as she scurries out of the room, taking the warm scent of vanilla with her. Two of the executive staff nod and shift out of the way to give her room.
“Madyson, I won’t get you tickets to the game. I don’t owe you anything and don’t bother calling my number again. I’m going to block you.” I jam my finger against the phone screen and fight the urge to toss it at the wall.
Seriously? This is ridiculous. I jog to the doorway. The space between the elevator and Saylor’s office is empty. I twist my head and look in the opposite direction. Also, empty. Shit. That was my one chance to ask her out, and Madyson fucked it up.
Hell, it’s probably for the best. Saylor is probably dating someone anyway. I was likely saved from making a fool out of myself.
