Total pages in book: 51
Estimated words: 46943 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 235(@200wpm)___ 188(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46943 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 235(@200wpm)___ 188(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
Why hadn’t I learned? The terrible experience with Gary had been so recent, burned me so deep, and yet here I was, making all the same mistakes just months later. Suddenly, I hated myself, loathing everything that made me me, filled with disgust for my body, my mind, my behavior.
Sitting at my desk seething, I trembled, shuddered and jerked, trying to keep my emotions subdued. But there was a tidal wave welling up inside, the bile rising bitter and venomous in my throat, my stomach churning and heaving uncontrollably. I couldn’t take it anymore and jumped up, shaking, almost coming apart with rage. I was going to confront Tucker right now, this was a fucking emergency, and there was nothing more important. So grabbing my purse, I rushed out of the building without a second glance, if I got fired, then so be it, there were other jobs out there.
With my brows drawn, face set, I strode to the subway with purposeful strides. Because I was headed to the offices of NYC Concierge, goddamn if I waited until getting home to confront the big man. And if the blow-up was in front of his unsuspecting co-workers, then so be it, they’d be getting an eyeful and an earful up the wazoo because things were volcanic now, and I didn’t care who knew.
18
Tucker
My feet up on my desk, I chewed on a pencil thoughtfully as I read through a four hundred page report. This white paper about the market for elite delivery services was so fucking off that it made my eyes bleed. The supposed “consultants” we’d hired for the study didn’t understand the sector at all and had put together a four hundred page pile of shit, a tome that I’d skimmed the first ten pages of and then put down, disgusted.
I wiped a hand over my eyes, pinching the bridge of my nose. Fuck, I was so tired. I worked like a dog during the day and then beat feet to get home to see my best girl. But it wasn’t like I got a ton of rest and relaxation once the sun set. Fuck no, I was fucking Laurie all night, two, three times before dawn, sometimes even four.
And it was good, real good. I couldn’t get enough of her, couldn’t shoot enough sperm into that tiny pussy, couldn’t bobble those breasts enough times, lick her asshole and make her scream, it was that amazing. And fuck, but even the impossible had come to pass. Walking home one day, I’d passed by a fine jewelry store, its goods gleaming in glass cases and something made my feet turn as if magnetized, my hand opening the door and stepping in.
I wasn’t sure what I was doing, a man in a trance. But when the saleslady came up, my mouth opened automatically and I said the words “engagement ring.” Can you believe it? Tucker McGrath, confirmed bachelor and complete asshole, was shopping to get married. And when the sales associate brought out a velvet tray with a couple different selections, there was a feeling of rightness in my gut. Because Laurie and I belonged together, she was the white to my black, the yin to my yang, the soft to my hard. And the best thing I could do, probably the smartest thing I’d ever do in my life was to put a ring on it, make her mine in every way possible, mark her before the world.
So the ring sat in my desk drawer even now, locked up, buried among a ton of useless crap. It was a beauty, I’d spent seven figures on a seven carat heart-shaped diamond, it’d probably weigh her hand down, it was that big. But that’s how serious I was about making her mine. I wanted every fucking male in the City to see that diamond and know that Laurie belonged to me.
Lost in my thoughts, I didn’t hear our receptionist Nora tiptoe over.
“Mr. McGrath,” she said quietly, standing next to me. “There’s a young lady here to see you.”
That was weird. Usually Nora emailed if we had a visitor, there was no need to make the announcement in person. And if you’re wondering about our office space, yes, it’s an open plan. We don’t have separate offices, just long rows of desks, the set-up modern, roomy, eco-friendly with both a foosball table and a ping-pong table. Yeah, we’re that start-up, the one with all the free food and games, impossibly hip, all our employees young and brainy.
And even I, as CEO, worked out in the open, there was nothing to distinguish me from anyone else except the fact that I had two monitors, one right next to the other. But hey, even that wasn’t a dead giveaway. After all, this was a progressive workplace where people had standing desks or sat on yoga balls, so my double monitors didn’t stick out that much.