Diary of a Bad Boy(53)

I think it might be time to draw a line in the sand.





Chapter Twelve





Dear Travis,

Not sure I like Travis for you; feels like I’m talking to a two-year-old rather than a listening warrior. I think Travis is a quick no for me.

I made over two million dollars today. With one signature, secured it in the old bank account. Normally I would be elated, but for some reason, it just feels like another day. Ever since I left Sutton’s apartment on Sunday—her tiny fucking apartment—I’ve felt off. Like I left something behind, but for the life of me I can’t figure out what it is. This is what I do. It’s what I’m fucking good at. Two million in the bank. Should be at the club . . . but that’s not where I want to be.

I leave for Texas soon. I’m dreading it and not because I’m not great with kids, or because the whole cowboy ranch thing isn’t really a shining beacon of my personality, but because I know I’ll be seeing Sutton day in and day out. I don’t think I can face such constant temptation. I barely made it through last week and I only saw her a couple of times.

And the tension between us is increasing at an unhealthy rate. I know I should have stayed away the other night, that I should have just gone home rather than to her apartment, but when I thought I was giving my address to the taxi driver, it was Sutton’s.

I should stay away, but I can’t.

I need to stop thinking about her, but I can’t.

I know I’m frustrating her, but I can’t seem to stop.

Hell . . . when did this diary become all about one girl?

Probably the moment I saw her at Gray’s Papaya. I should have known then she was going to destroy me.

Roark





ROARK





I have no idea why I’m in my office today. I could have done all my work somewhere else, like in my apartment, or at one of those coffee houses all the hipsters like to hang out in, but instead I decided to come to my office. My boring, plain office that has zero personality or warmth. Not that my apartment is any better, but at least it has my bed. And for two nights, it had Sutton.

Leg crossed over my knee, I look at the city below me, the water tanks on top of the buildings, the gray clouds that never seem to disappear in the winter, and the offices across from mine with people milling about, performing tasks I’m sure they hate.

Three contracts are on top of my desk, my email is full of requests, and my phone vibrates on my desk every five minutes.

Fucking Mondays.

I drag my hand over my face.

The intercom comes to life on my desk. “Mr. McCool, Miss Green is here to see you.”

Well, fuck, I think my Monday just got a whole lot better. I press the red button and say, “Send her back.”

I glance around my office, considering straightening it up but decide better of it. Instead, I strike a casual pose and wait for her to come through my door.

It doesn’t take long and hell, my breath catches in my chest when she walks through, a smile on her face and a thank you to my assistant on her lips.

Wearing a pink wool coat and tight black pants with high heels, she struts into my office with confidence, her slightly curled hair blowing back with her strides. She’s highlighted those devastating eyes with black mascara and her lips, glossy and so goddamn sexy.

I swallow hard, knowing damn well it’s going to be hard to keep my hands to myself, especially when her lavender scent starts to take over my office. Shit, that’s going to stay awhile and most likely drive me crazy with need later.

“Hey,” I say as she takes a seat across from me. My assistant shuts the door, leaving me alone with Sutton, just the way I like it.

She folds her hands on her lap and lifts her chin. Christ, I think I’m about to hear something I don’t want to hear.

“Why don’t you take off your jacket?”

I can see her considering not to, but given how warm it is in my office, she unbuttons her jacket. Like it’s an erotic strip show, I watch her fingers work the buttons out of their holes, parting her jacket ever so slightly until she shrugs the entire thing off, revealing a white silk blouse with black lace bra underneath. Warrior clothes. My girl means business.

Okay, maybe she should have kept the jacket on.

Knowing I tend to stare at her breasts, I lean back in my chair, arm propped up, and cover my mouth with my hand as I force myself to look her in the eyes. It’s painful, but I’m doing it.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your presence, Miss Green?”

I expect her to ask me when I became so proper, but instead, she gets right down to business. “I came to talk to you about our working relationship.”

Yup, I was right. I don’t think I’m going to like the reason she’s here.

“What about it?”

“It needs to stay that way, a working relationship.”

I nod. “I couldn’t agree more.”

“Which means we need to stay professional.”

“I love being professional,” I say, as my eyes glance at her tits.

Her nostrils flair. “Do you know what acting professionally entails, Mr. McCool?”

“Mr. McCool?” A smile spreads across my face. “Hell, I like the way that sounds coming off your tongue, but can you do me a favor? Whisper it next time.”