When I got home, I rushed to the office and closed the door. I could still feel her pulsating all over my skin. Her scent, her mouth, the knife.
I called Rebecca, the least useful creature in all of New York, other than maybe sewer rats.
“Sir?” she asked in confusion. “Is everything okay?”
Was it? A lot had happened in the last few hours.
Wedding.
Irish mobster.
Gia hurt.
Kiss.
Kiss.
Kiss.
I hadn’t been this affected when, two years ago, I mounted threeSports Illustratedmodels on top of one another and fucked them from behind simultaneously, slamming into a different hole each time.
“Cancel all my meetings for today,” I choked out.
It was a Friday, one of my busiest days, as I chased tail ends before the weekend rolled in. But I knew I wouldn’t be productive today.
I hung up, cracked open six math books, and solved equations and followed rituals the entire day to soothe myself back into breathing normally again. I needed to count sand grains and windows on skyscrapers and letters in thick books. I needed numbers to not feel twitchy and anxious and on edge.
Another one of Dr. Patel’s emails popped on my phone’s screen, as though he was reading my mind.
From: Dr. Arjun Patel, MD
To: Tate Blackthorn
Subject: Re: re: re: re: re: re: Reschedule Meeting
Tate, please. You’re dealing with multiple issues. I can help.
I hit Delete.
I was beyond redemption.
I spiraled into my own pitch-black mind.
Iput the toilet seat down and sat primly on top of it, unfurling the wrapper of my chicken Caesar wrap.
Taking my lunch in the toilets of the HR department’s floor was ridiculous, but I didn’t have any choice. I had become a social pariah at GS Properties.
It started with the surprise announcement that I was engaged to Tate, which felt like betrayal to all the coworkers I’d been close with. They’d become enraged by my hypocrisy and left letters on my desk calling me a double agent and a Jezebel.
I’d gone from being one of the most loved employees in the company to public enemy number one overnight. Between firing people at my new position and marrying our dictator CEO, my colleagues’ opinion about me changed drastically.
I could feel their eyes following me like the barrel of a gun trained on a gazelle.
Today reigned already as the lousiest workday recorded on earth, after being creepily stalked across town by my husband and then kissed to the point of toe curling by the man I hated.
