“Then too.”
I put my hands on my hips and studied her. Yes, it was arrogant of me to feel like this shouldn’t be this hard. Most women said yes to me for anything and everything I asked. But I decided it was character building to have to work for it, so I kept on.
“If you’re not going to meet with me, then you’ll have to tell me right here, right now, why you ghosted me.”
Her eyes closed as if I’d asked the one thing that she didn’t want to tell me. When she opened them again, I could see I was going to get the same brush off.
“I’m sorry about that. We were both so young and impulsive,” she said.
“That doesn’t take the sting of rejection away.”
She looked down, and I hoped she felt bad. “I’m sorry. I handled it wrong. But now, we’re older and surely, looking back, you can see it for what it was.”
“What was it?” I pushed her even though I was pretty sure I didn’t want to hear her dismiss what we had. Yes, it was impulsive. Yes, we were young. But I’d cared for her. At the time, I was sure I loved her.
“A hook-up.”
Fuck. I was right. I didn’t want to hear that. “You don’t feel it was a little more than that?”
“At the time, sure, it felt like more, but we were in the middle of it.” She cocked her head to the side. “You can’t tell me you pined too long. Or didn’t have someone in the wings ready to take my place.”
Her words felt like they had weight. Like she thought I was cheating or had moved on quickly. Had I fucked other women since her? Yes. But it hadn’t happened quickly, and I hadn’t had the same feeling with them as I’d had with her.
“It sounds like you want me to be the bad guy here. Once you lost your virginity, how long was it before you went out with another man? Were you curious to experience the size of other dicks?” The minute I said it, I regretted it. It was petty. But dammit, there was only so much my ego could take.
Her eyes flashed with heat reminding me of the times I was thrusting inside her, watching her as she rode the edge of an orgasm. Of course, this time she wasn’t hot from pleasure, but from anger.
“You’re one to talk, Devin.”
Huh? “What is it you’re accusing me of, Serena?”
All of a sudden, she straightened to attention.
“Everything okay here?” her boss asked as she approached us.
“Yes, of course,” Serena said. When the door to the elevator opened, she hurried in. “It was good to see you again, Mr. Roarke.”
I nodded. “You too, Ms…” Fuck what was her last name?
She smirked at me as the doors closed.
Moore. Fuck it wa
s Moore. I wanted to poke the button and chase her down to let her know I hadn’t forgotten. She wasn’t just some random short-term hook-up in a long line of hook-ups.
“Mr. Roarke?”
I sighed and turned toward the chef. “Yes, chef.”
After dealing with the chef, I finished my business at the Roarke, and then I scouted a location a few doors down from the Roarke building for the potential of a club. My dad would balk, but if I was going to be taking over the business, then I was going in all the way. He’d had his run, now it was my turn.
After work, I returned to my parents’ place on Riverside in the Upper West Side of the city. The place was large enough that I could be there without seeing my parents unless I wanted to. Even so, I was in the process of buying a penthouse in midtown.
After dinner, I went to my father’s study to let him know about my day. To my mind it was a courtesy, although I’m sure he felt it was my duty. My father had been diagnosed with Parkinson’s and encouraged to reduce his workload, which was why I was summoned home. But on the first day, I could see my father wasn’t going to let go of the reins that easily.
I felt bad that he was sick, but that didn’t mean I was going to come home simply to do his bidding. I told him so when he clearly didn’t like that I was seeking a spot for a club.
“You know you wouldn’t be doing this if I wasn’t sick,” he said. I couldn’t decide if it was sadness at what his illness was taking from him, or envy of my taking charge.