And every time she tries to connect with him, she resembles a fish repeatedly banging against the aquarium wall—striving for something impossible.
It’s not that West doesn’t likeher; he doesn’t like anyone. Many women cling to him like Velcro to fabric, yet I’ve neverseen him in a serious relationship. It seems that no one wants to endure his mood swings.
“Stop it. You know I hate that guy. Since it’s mutual, I believe he looked at me simply to come up with a new way to mess with me.”
I don’t say this just to make her stop; it’s the truth. One of the main reasons I can’t stand West is that he always acts like a child. He never misses an opportunity to get on my nerves and ruin my day. I’ve tried to ignore him, to deny him the reaction he craves, but it’s always been futile. No matter what I do or don’t do, he still manages to devise a plan to irritate me.
I can only guess what ridiculous scheme he’s come up with this time.
“I don’t know why you’re so resistant,” Grace says, breaking through my thoughts. “West doesn’t care about anyone else, but you can have all his attention without even trying.”
Concealing the disgust that threatens to show on my face is a struggle. I can’t stand when she keeps reminding me of it, as if it’s something to take pride in. West doesn’t matter to me. “You can have him anytime. I don’t need his attention.”
Lost in thought, she twirls a strand of her cherry-red hair around her finger, her silver necklace catching the sunlight and casting a bright glare. She’s a beautiful woman, wasting her time on someone unworthy of it.
“I can’t forget the way he looked next to Noah,” she muses dreamily. “I always thought he was a big guy, but compared to West, he’s nothing.” She shifts her gaze to me, a playful sparkle in her eyes signaling what’s coming next. “Do you thinkit’sas big as the rest of his body?”
I set my empty glass on the table and bury my face in my hands. This isn’t the first time she’s pondered such things out loud. “Please don’t start.”
“I’m just curious. I’ve heard rumors. The way he looks—” she trails off, her voice lowering to a seductive purr that makes me cringe. “I’d bet my tongue on that.”
“Oh,Jesus.”
“Call me crazy, but his temper is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” she persists, diving deeper into her favorite topic. “I bet he’s overprotective in relationships. Lucky is the woman who gets to have him.”
“By the way,” I say, lifting my face from my hands, intrigued by a new topic. “I invited Eli here, but he still hasn’t shown up. Should I call him again?”
Grace shifts in her chair, her expression turning serious. “How many times have you called?”
I glance up at the sky, squinting against the brightness. Rubbing my eyes only sends black spots dancing across my vision, and a prickle of shame tugs at me. There’s no point in lying. “Twenty-four.”
“Jesus Christ, Venetia,” she groans. “No way.”
I open my mouth to offer an excuse for him but realize I can’t. I know I’m being persistent and annoying—Eli and I aren’t even officially dating. Well, I thought we were because we went on dates and spent a lot of time together. But then, when we started discussing our relationship—I brought the topic up—he brushed it off, saying he wasn’t ready for anything serious. It fucking stung, and I’ll never forget the sense of betrayal that followed.
I’ve always been a dreamer, and I think I misunderstood his intentions, painting a perfect picture of us as a couple in my mind. Eli is the only thing that feels like a gulp of fresh air, my lifebuoy amidst the murky waters of this dirty business.
My life revolves around my dad’s company—my position in our real estate investment trust and dealing with assholes like West. I’m constantly planning, plotting, brainstorming, and managing shady schemes. Everyone I know is from this world—except Eli. He’s a genuinely nice guy, untouched by this mess, and I’ve worked hard to keep him that way.
But then there are times like this—he disappears from the radar for a week or two. He doesn’t go online or answer his phone, and I can’t help but overreact, wondering what I did wrong. He feels like my only salvation, and I don’t want to lose him.
“I’m just worried,” I say, attempting to justify myself. I know it sounds stupid when I say it out loud, but I genuinely am. I can’t stand the silent treatment. Why not meet and discuss what’s bothering you instead of ignoring me?
“If he needs time, I get it,” I lie. I’ve never understood how people can say things like that. What you really need is to address the issue while your emotions are still fresh, not to wallow in silence. “I just wish he’d say a word or two to me.”
Grace’s shake of the head, full of disapproval, digs under my skin, fueling my irritation. “I know it’s none of my business?—”
“Yet you still poke your nose into it,” I break in, my voice edged with sharpness. “What? Are you going to tell me how I’m overreacting and being pushy?”
Her lips thin into a line. “No. What I want to say is that he’s not worth it, Venetia. When was the last time he fought for you?”
Her question cuts through my defenses, making me fidget in my seat. I swallow hard, feeling a thick lump of emotion form in my throat. “I don’t understand what you mean by that.”
She rests her hands on the arms of her chair, fingers tapping against the cushion. “I mean you’re acting like both a man and a woman in this… relationship,” she says, emphasizing the last word with a mocking tone. “You pay for your dates, you call and text him to ask how his day was, and he… he doesn’t do anything. Remember that time a guy tried to hit on you at the bar?” she asks rhetorically, perfectly aware that it’s something I can’t forget, no matter how hard I try.
I don’t respond to her, unsure of what expression is on my face. But she nods to herself and continues, “He said nothing. I’m not saying he had to beat the guy to a pulp or kidnap and torture him like those psychopaths we obsess over in books or movies—” Grace’s voice trails off, as if she’s contemplating the thought. “That’s a dream that’ll never come true. But the point is, he could’ve at least said something to him. But he didn’t.”
Yeah, he didn’t. And it fucking hurt. Grace doesn’t even know what happened after that. He got drunk and dragged me to the bathroom, where he made me give him a handjob. I was barely holding back tears the entire time. When I finally asked him what about me, he said he didn’t have time and needed to head back home.
