She reaches for the phone while I take a moment to look distracted, listening closely to what she says and her reactions.
“He’s on floor twenty-seven. The receptionist there is waiting for you and she’ll take you to his office.
“Perfect, thanks so much.” I slap the desk lightly before making my way over to the bank of elevators. I step in and watch the number on top of the door change slowly, and with each floor comes new anticipation. I really have no idea what the fuck is about to go down. My hands are deep in my front pockets, playing with a ball of fuzz, trying to calm my anxiety. The bell dings on my floor. When the door opens I expect to be greeted by another receptionist, but I’m not. Instead, I come face-to-face with the bastard I’m ready to put in line.
“Trey, to what do I owe this pleasure?” God, even his greeting sounds slimy with hidden undertones of smugness. I just look at his outstretched hand that he expects me to shake and roll my eyes—feeling childish already.
“Do you have somewhere private we can talk?” I look around the offices surrounding his shorter frame. He stands at five nine, looking small compared to my six two stature. He thinks he’s a man because of his riches, little does he know, money doesn’t make you a man, fucker.
“Yes, of course, let’s go to my office. This way.”
“After you.”
He looks surprised at my confidence, he must have expected to come get me and boss me around. But even in his setting, I’m the dominant one.
Walking into his posh office, all dark wood like the downstairs lobby, a blue sectional sits across from his marbled desk. The floor to ceiling windows behind his desk showcases the Seattle skyline and screams money. Too bad that shit doesn’t intimidate me or he may have actually made me feel inferior.
“Have a seat.” I don’t listen to him as he unbuttons his jacket and takes a seat at his desk. His cover of the calm exterior is blown, given away by the beads of sweat on his forehead. He should be scared; I’m not a happy man right now.
“I won’t be long, I just need to say a few things then I’ll be gone.” I’m more than ready to get this shit done so I can get back to Shayla and not worry about this fucker again. He gestures for me to start.
“I came here to tell you to back off from Shayla.”
He laughs; it drips with cockiness, like I’m wasting my time.
“I’m not following what you’re saying, Trey. We have a great relationship.” He rolls relationship off his tongue like it’s casual, something mutual, something I know nothing about and should be afraid of.
“You don’t have a fucking relationship, you have a business arrangement. That’s it.”
He stands from his place behind his desk, walking around to stand in front of me. My arms are crossed against my chest, which is puffed up, letting him know that I’m predatory over what’s mine, and I’m not backing down. Evan looks relaxed leaning against his desk, hands gripping the edge.
“See, that’s where you’re wrong. I’m sure you’re just insecure that I have money to help her in ways you can’t. Am I right?”
There is not one thing in this world that I can’t do to help her. Physically, intimately, financially, emotionally—nothing. This prick knows jack shit, and whatever verbal bullshit he thinks he’s about to lay down isn’t accurate. I’m all she will ever need, she just needs to ask and it’s hers.
“I have plenty of money to help her, but she doesn’t need me to make her successful, she can do that all on her own. She doesn’t need hand outs.” I shake my head. Evan has some nerve, Shayla is a hard worker and got to where she is today all on her own. The definition of independent woman has her sexy face next to it in the dictionary.
“Yeah, but that’s daddy’s money, isn’t it?” he hisses, pushing my restraint.
“Listen, fucker! I came here to play nice, but I’m this close”—I throw my hand up, showing him the small space between my two fingers— “to losing my shit on you. So, do yourself a favor and back off. Heed my warning, Evan.”
He straightens, putting his hands in his pockets. “Oh, Trey.” He chuckles, it sounds sinister. “You’re wrong again. See, you will continue to be the insecure boy, and I’ll be the man she runs to when she gets tired of you. She may have rejected me when I asked her out the first time and believe me I wasn’t too happy. Because, Trey.” He pauses, his jaw ticking.
When did he fucking ask her out? Why didn’t she tell me? And why does he look so fucking angry over her rejection. Doesn’t he get the simple equation that committed women will say no when another party of the male species ask them out?
“Because what?” I hiss.
He smiles, standing only a foot away from me. “I don’t take rejection well, it makes my blood fucking boil. I always get what I want, I mean look around you, Trey, I never take no for an answer and that’s why I’m here.” Evan’s gaze zeroes in on me, his lips drawing in a sinister smile and his eyes distant. He looks like a fucking maniac; this man is worse than I could have imagined. “And honestly, now more than ever, I am making it my mission to fuck Shayla.”
I hear the loud crunch of bones breaking. My fist connecting with his flesh and bone, breaking his nose, splitting the skin open right down the middle. This piece of shit just crossed a line. Evan looks up from the ground where he landed by my impact, standing while wiping the blood from his broken nose on the sleeve of his suit. When I have his eyes again, I punch him for a second time. This one catching the side of his face. The rage in me can’t be caged in; he needs to feel more pain.
“Get out of my office before I call security!” He’s beyond mad, and victory is rewarding. I knew this fucker didn’t have the balls to step up to the plate. He didn’t even fight back. Pussy.
“Y
eah, I bet you would, pussy. Next time you want to threaten me like a big boy, you better be prepared to fight with a man.” I get the last word and he just sits there, scrambling for tissues to keep the blood from ruining his expensive carpet. You threaten to hurt Shayla and I take it personal, he just admitted that he was going to do everything in his power to screw Shayla. Even thinking this in my head leaves a sour taste on my tongue. It makes my fucking stomach turn inside out. I’m not going to stand here and not do a single thing. I came in the new Trey and left the old Trey. Ready to kill.
The second the elevators open to the lobby, I notice security waiting. I let the goons take me out without even a flinch, knowing Evan is up there, defeated and emasculated. I go willingly. When the air from outside hits my face and they let me go, I’m still fucking raging. How can I let Shay go near him when he says shit like that? How can I not fear for her? I hope he took my threat and that punch seriously. There is far more worse where that came from.