“I just got out of a relationship…”
She continued to spin my expensive tie around her fingers. “First time out, then?”
“Basically.”
“Breakups are hard,” she said. “But the sooner you get on top of someone, the sooner you move on. You want to get on top of me tonight?”
I didn’t like her forwardness—it was too brash. “I’m happy to buy you a few drinks—but that’s it.”
“Or maybe start with a bathroom blow job?”
I didn’t think any woman as attractive as her would be handing out sex and blow jobs that easily. She must know exactly who I was. She must know Muse was gone, and she wanted to be the woman to replace her. I could just fuck her mouth and walk away—but I still wasn’t turned on.
If Muse asked to suck my dick in the bathroom stall, I’d be all over that.
But with some random woman…it wasn’t appealing.
Carter wrapped his arm around his woman and took her out of the club, probably heading back to his place for a great night of meaningless sex.
Now all I wanted to do was go home—alone.
Dante knocked on my office door. “Sir?”
I was staring at the screen of my laptop, but I wasn’t actually doing anything productive. She’d been gone for nearly two months now. It’d been seven weeks and three days—to be exact.
And I still wasn’t over her.
I didn’t stop thinking about her.
I didn’t stop jerking off to her photos.
I didn’t sleep with other women, staying just as monogamous as I was before.
What the fuck? How did she do this to me?
How did she change my life so drastically?
My life used to be so simple.
Now, it was nothing short of complicated. “I’m not hungry, Dante.” My waist was getting smaller with every single week because my appetite hadn’t returned.
“Actually, Mr. Barsetti is here to see you.”
“Which one?” There were too many Mr. Barsettis in my family.
“Your father. Shall I send him up?”
My father never stopped by unannounced. It was obvious Vanessa told him what happened between Muse and me, and now he was coming by to check on me. A phone call wouldn’t suffice because he couldn’t see my face.
My father was the kind of man who would drive five hours just to see me for five minutes. “Send him in.”
“Will do.” He shut the door.
I closed my laptop and put it in the drawer before I broke out the scotch. I poured two glasses then moved to the two couches in the room. The walls of my office were surrounded by two enormous bookshelves stuffed with books. But honestly, it was just for decoration because I couldn’t remember the last time I touched a book. I leafed through fashion magazines for inspiration sometimes.
My father stepped inside a few minutes later, dressed in black jeans, an olive green V-neck, and a black leather jacket. Fall had crept into the land, and now it wasn’t warm like before. The wind had started to get cold, and the golden fields had started to turn green from the rain.
I didn’t look up at him as he walked in. I wasn’t being disrespectful. I just didn’t have the energy.
He sat across from me and eyed the glass of scotch.
“I can get ice if you want.”
He took a long drink before he set it down again. “You know why I’m here.”
“I have a hunch.” I rubbed my fingers across the coarse hair of my face. I didn’t shave anymore, so I practically had a beard. Physical presentation didn’t seem important to me anymore. I hardly left the house, and when I went to the studio in Milan, I didn’t give a damn how I looked.
My father leaned back against the couch and crossed his legs, resting one ankle on the opposite knee. “Vanessa told your mother and me about Sapphire a few weeks ago. I thought I would give you some space to see if you’d talk about it on your own…but it doesn’t seem like that’s going to happen.”
“There’s nothing to say.” I leaned back and rested my arm on the armrest.
“You’re right. The beard and the dead look in your eyes tell me everything I need to know.” My father wasn’t afraid to dish out the truth—even if it stung a little. “Is this really what you want? You look like shit.”
“Fuck you.”
My father kept his cool, but the second he narrowed his eyes, the entire room shifted. It was suddenly darker, colder. His hostility lowered the temperature, making it ice-cold and unbearable. He had the kind of power I couldn’t fathom, the ability to project so much emotion without saying a single word—or moving a finger.
I apologized before he retaliated. “I’m sorry…I shouldn’t have said that.”
He leaned forward and grabbed his drink again. He eyed me coldly as he downed the entire contents. He slammed it down on the wood a little harder. “I’m not going to be around forever, Conway. And when I’m not, that moment will haunt you for the rest of your life. So don’t apologize. You’ll pay for it later.”