Addicted (The Addicted Series, #1)(40)

I eyed her with a cool grin on my face, not letting her think she was getting to me. Not even that long ago, I'd have been eager to wipe that smirk off of the little tart’s face . . . and I’m not talking about with my hand or with violence.

“She needs to hear something directly from me, not from a message. If she doesn’t want to speak to me again after that, I’ll never bother her again.”

April stared at me suspiciously and I adopted my most serious expression. “Really. She’s going to want to hear this, trust me.”

April stood there for the longest time, looking like a battle was going on inside of her head. Finally, she let out a huge sigh. "I'll go find her and see what she says.” She turned away, but stopped to add, "On one condition."

"Anything."

"You never come here again."

If I get to talk to her, I won’t need to come here again, I thought.

"Scout's honor," I assured, putting up the little hand signal.

April scowled at me, looking as if she was going to change her mind. I kept my expression straight and serious.

"Okay," she finally said. "Don't make me regret this or you'll be sorry."

"I won't," I promised.

She still looked skeptical. "Wait here and I'll be right back."

I spent the better of twenty minutes standing around at the receptionist’s desk, looking like a dumbass waiting for April to come back. The receptionist, Kathy, a middle-aged woman with graying hair, kept me entertained, telling me all about her daughter and her recent engagement. She seemed to be that type of person who’d talk to just about anyone and tell them her life story.

"She’s so happy," Kathy was saying to me after just showing me her daughter, a little blonde with a humble next-door type appearance. "She got herself a good fella—handsome too, just like yourself.” She beamed at me.

“Oh you're so kind," I said, trying to sound at least a little interested in the conversation. “Truth be told, there's nothing special about my looks."

“Handsome and modest, a good combination,” Kathy said, placing the back of her hand to the side of her mouth and lowering her voice to a conspirator whisper, “You’d be quite the catch.”

“Modest, huh?” I chuckled. “Now that’s something I haven’t heard before.”

At that moment, April reappeared, walking up the hallway toward me. The look on her face told me everything.

"Sorry, I have to go," I said, not sparing Kathy another glance. "It was nice meeting you, Kathy." I walked off briskly before the she could reply, making it to April in several quick strides.

"Well?" I demanded, trying to keep myself calm and collected.

April stared at me for what seemed like an eternity, purposefully drawing the moment out.

Finally, she said, “Against my better judgment, Victoria’s willing to talk to you.”





* * *



I tapped my fingers impatiently against the wooden armrest of my chair. This was so not me, being forced to wait to be seen. Usually it was the other way around. April had led me to a waiting room on the top floor of the building. It had a pretty nice view, but nothing like what I enjoyed at my office.

The problem was that, while nice and all, Christine's building wasn't high enough to see over all the other surrounding buildings, so all you saw were other buildings blocking out the view.

I turned my eyes away from the outside, my thoughts going inward. I wondered what had been going on with Victoria all this time. Had she thought about me? Would she forgive me? I didn't know the answers to these questions, but that’s what I intended to find out.

I was going to do my best to win her back. I already knew how I was going to prove to her that what she saw with Candice wasn’t what it looked like.

All I needed was the chance . . . and I could set things right.

After what seemed like an eternity, the door cracked open and I quickly sprang to my feet like a jack-in-the-box. My heart began to pound in my chest in an annoying fashion as I waited for the door to open fully. I waited, holding my breath, preparing myself for what I had to say.

Don't screw this up, Ty.

The door open and in walked . . . What the f*ck?

Christine Finnerman.

She was dressed like the frigid ice queen that she was, in a form-fitting white dress with a matching white belt at her waist, frosted pumps, her silver hair done up into an elegant style. A sparkling necklace adorned her neck, which was tight and firm for a woman of her age.

Though I’d never met Victoria's boss, I knew how she looked because of the billboards that had her evil mug plastered on them all over city.

All in all, I'd say she was one of the state’s most powerful women. Her name commanded respect.

"What's going on here?" I asked in confusion as Christine slowly closed the door behind her. I looked over her shoulder, somehow hoping Victoria had followed in behind her. "Where's Victoria?"

Christine's gaze centered on me like a hawk, her eyes blazing with hatred.

I’m usually a guy that can't be ruffled, but this woman made me hot under the collar . . . and not in a good way. I swore if she kept looking at me like that, I'd catch on fire.

"She's not coming," she said crisply, her voice as cold and frigid as she looked. "You'd do well to forget all about her."