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Obsessive? Yes. I’ve never claimed otherwise.
But I have a new obsession—Raven Hill, who’s taken a considerable portion of my mental focus this week, so I’m making up for lost time by spending the day in the office.
Glancing up from the computer to the ticking clock, I know I’m simply counting down hours. My shirt is unbuttoned atthe neck with my suit jacket draped over the back of my chair. My tapping foot keeps track of the seconds, and it’s all far too aggravating.
She gets to me. This woman has some kind of hold over me that I can’t ignore.
It’s not about Raven’s looks. I’ve come to that conclusion easily enough. As beautiful as she is, and as sensual an aura as she puts off, I haven’t been merely distracted by thoughts of how intensely we fucked on that conference room table.
I think it’s about the risk.
And out of shared fucking hatred of Evan Faulkner.
But if that’s all it was, I’d be thinking of Evan, and I’m definitely not thinking about that asshole. I can’t stop thinking about her. What she’s thinking about it all. Where she’ll be going. What she’s doing. So many questions about a woman I should never have slept with.
Every time I consider this evenings’ goals, I’m left with conflicting images in my mind. On one hand, there’s Raven, the professional businesswoman. Full of potential, and with the skills to make any firm that lands her millions of dollars in her first year. She’s the sort of talent that could be signing billion dollar deals by her thirtieth birthday. If her career isn’t derailed by Faulkner and his wrath and the bullshit social circles that exist in this business.
On the other hand, I also see Raven in that weak moment, her eyes large and pleading, her lips swollen from our kiss, and her body needing me and no one else. I hear her sighing my name, coming on my cock, and squeezing me just right. The memory alone makes my cock twitch with need.
It’s… disconcerting.
Finally, just after lunch, I give in to the urge I’ve had all day. Not to jerk off at the memory of her beneath me on that table, but rather to text Raven.
I’ll pick you up at 6:30.
I will meet you there, she texts back.
Hesitating, I temper my response. It feels like when she left me at the fundraiser. I can sense her doubts in the few words and don’t want to push too hard, too fast.
So I concede, restraining myself.Okay. 7PM,A Taste of Bangkok.
It’s one of the best Thai restaurants in the state and notoriously difficult to get a reservation for.
Raven sends back a simpleThank you.
With that taken care of, I go back to work. Mostly, I decide to use these few hours to figure out how to use my power and influence to check on Faulkner and his bullshit. He hasn’t called or sent any more texts, but I know he’s up to something. It’s his way.
I start with a bit of online snooping. It’s amazing what people post these days. You can find out more about a person, a company, and possible situations from their Instagrams than their business websites. Mix that with some society page gossip and pictures and you have a good idea of who’s having private dinners with whom.
But I need more, so I send a message to Austin, trusting that he’ll keep my inquiry between us.
What’s the latest on Faulkner?
While I wait, I try to focus on the stacks of work on my desk. But when my phone pings, I virtually lunge for it before the sound finishes to see what he answers.
Did you fuck Raven at the Faulkner thing? You really know how to blow shit up, huh? Word is, she’s getting the polite decline everywhere, courtesy of Evan himself.
Fuck. That’s exactly what I was afraid of.
He messaged me. Said he ‘dealt with it’. Guess that’s what he meant.
I don’t answer his question about whether Raven and I had sex. By the sound of it, he alreadyknows the answer.
Now what?
That’s the question, isn’t it? I set this whole thing into motion, and now, I unexpectedly care about the collateral damage I’ve caused. I’m having dinner with her tonight.
It’s an answer that’s more than the sum of its parts. With the few words, Austin now knows that Raven is more than a revenge fuck. He can tell that she means something to me. What that is, I’m not entirely sure just yet.
