ChapterOne
Wynter
What isit about Weston Croix that drives me mad?
Other than the reputation that precedes him. Anyone who runs in New York’s Elite knows him as cocky, charming; a playboy.
I’d met someone like him before… Well, I was engaged to someone like him. It was an arranged marriage by our parents, planned since we were children. Two prominent families coming together as the ultimate powerhouse in law firms. My parents found him charming, my father treated him like the son he never had. The man I knew was a player and he always got what he wanted, including me, and whatever skirt flirted his direction.Men.
The heady smell of Weston’s musky cologne wafts into my office and titillates my senses way before his actual presence takes up almost every square inch of my doorway - the bane of my existence since I started working here only a couple months ago.
Every day he brings his flirting and ‘smooth moves’ to my office and every day I refuse to grace him with the time of day, but today I’ve had enough. He has to be kidding me with this Hook Meapp article. People really use dating apps to have hookups these days? Geez, am I that far out of the dating scene loop?
Not that it matters. I haven’t dated in years or even wanted to.
The one time I slept with a man, it was with my player of a fiancé. I was young and stupid at the time, still living with a silver spoon in my mouth. I figured if one day I’d have to sleep with him, I may as well get it out of the way. God, it was awful. With no concern for it being my first time, he didn’t go gentle as one would expect. It hurt like sandpaper on an open wound and the thought of ever doing it again with someone else makes me cringe.
“Babe, your pussy is so tight, but you’re so dry.”
Cringing at the memory, I remind myself that I’m not missing out on sex. No matter how much I hear the office ladies’ gossip or how many sex columns I read. I don’t need a man to satisfy me. I can do that all on my own.
So, why do I feel so attracted to Weston?
I shake my head, clearing the weird lust that always forms in my brain when over thinking about him. One look at the clock reminds me that soon he’ll leave for the weekend and I won’t have to see or smell his intoxicating, no … his overbearing cologne for the next forty-eight hours. Sighing in relief, I can’t understand what’s gotten into me recently. I’ve been forgoing men and relationships for years and now suddenly I’m attracted to one of my columnists.
My cell phone rings from my top drawer, startling me and bringing me out of my thoughts. The number pops up unknown and I’m wondering if it’s another telemarketing call.
“Hello?” My finger poised on the end button, just in case.
“Wynter, it’s Friday night. What are we doing?” My best friend, Addison’s voice comes through the other end of the line.
“What is this number? Why aren’t you calling from your own phone? And… I’ll be here for another hour or two. I want to finish up what I’m working on and I like the tranquility of all the columnists being gone.”
She audibly sighs “Wyn, every once in a while, you need to go out and have a life. You’ve made it. You’re an editor. You don’t have to work yourself to death anymore and… my phone died. So I borrowed someone else's.”
“I know. Hey, Adds. Whose phone did you borrow?”
“Look, it’s not important, but what is, is that you have people there that can help you. You need to learn to delegate to others unless you want people to think you’re a control freak.”
“I don’t delegate to others, Adds, because I can’t guarantee they’ll do as good of a job as I know I will.”
She huffs. “You’re hopeless. You need a man or something. Something to distract you enough that you won’t become that lady that owns six cats and lives in an apartment by herself until she’s eighty. Hey, try the Hook Me app! I started talking with a smoking hot guy named Reece the other night. He’s got a roommate. Maybe we could double date. That’d be fun.”
“Adds… you know I don’t date.”
She laughs. “One of these days I will convince you.”
The problem is that I only have one man that I’d even be interested in dating and I don’t go for players.
“Sure.”
“Okay, fine. I’ll let you go. Go edit… or whatever it is you do there. I’ll see you when you get home later.”
I end the call and return to going over another article for the monthly spot. It’ll be a long couple of hours.
Out on thebusy streets of New York, engulfed in the noisy honks of cab drivers and chatty passersby, I take in the sights. I love living in the city. I’m a city girl through and through. I can’t sleep at night unless there is hustle and bustle going on around me. I think I’d miss it if I ever moved away. They don’t call it the city that never sleeps for nothing.
Caught up in the surrounding wonders, I don't realize a cab pulls up. The door opens and from the back-seat steps none other than Weston Croix.