Donovan (Face-Off 3)

When I reach the end of the hall, I open the double doors that lead to Sam Mason’s office. The room is open and bright, full of cubicles and people busy hammering away at the keyboards and talking on the phone. Every time I come to see Sam, his staff usually rolls out the red carpet. I make them enough money for them to give me the royal treatment. But this time, I walked the halls, mostly unattended and without the usual pleasantries. No one even offered me coffee or water.

Sam’s secretary always waits for me at the elevators when I arrive. Judy was nowhere in sight today. That was a first. The balance is off today, and it all starts with Carter. He’s messing with the order in my life. I even burnt my hand on the hair dryer today while I was fixing my curls.

Since when do I have beauty snafus? My hair looks a mess, and with all the crying I did on my way over here, most of my mascara is almost gone along with some of the foundation I rubbed off with my tears. Yes, I cried over Carter, which is insane. I am losing my damn mind. That man is going to be the death of me. I’m losing my edge because of him.

There has to be an explanation for the tears. I must be getting my period, because why the hell am I crying over Carter? My behavior is so unlike me that even Kennedy was surprised when I called her on my way to this business meeting, a sobbing mess of emotions and incoherent ramblings. And I was craving cake this morning. Yup, must be my raging bitch hormones. It’s probably for the best that Carter doesn’t see me in this condition. I’m a real nightmare when I get like this. Even Kennedy cannot deal with my mood swings and erratic behavior when it’s that time of the month.

Not that she will have to deal with her own cycle for a while. I still cannot believe Kennedy is pregnant and having a baby with Tyler Kane. Her entire life changed over night, and mine…collapsed on me. Somehow, Carter penetrated the walls I built between us to keep myself safe. With Carter, they came crashing down, and now, I’m confused and mad at myself for toying with him. Kennedy’s pregnancy was a wake up call for me that it’s time to get my shit in order. I was ready to do that before Carter bailed on me.

A few of the men in the room look up at me from their computer monitors as I walk past them, getting a few waves and hellos as I strut

down the hall like I’m on a runway. I may feel like shit on the inside, but I have to maintain an air of confidence on the outside. As my mother would say, Stand up straight and put on your face. And by face, she means the one you show to the world, the image a Carroway needs to project out in public.

My parents are filthy rich and have more money than they could spend in ten lifetimes. Because of that, I have always had a target on my back. People are watching us all the time, waiting to take us down. Growing up with a family who ran a multi-million dollar publication company, Kennedy understands the pressure of having a father like mine. We both faced the same harassment every time our parents had made the paper or closed another deal. Our worlds were vastly different from most people.

But everything changed for Kennedy after investors swindled her father and he lost his company. Her family is almost penniless by now, with Kennedy hanging on by a thread and whatever savings she has left in her account. Through our mutual existence, Kennedy and I bonded. Our friendship got both of us through some dark days back in high school.

While my father practically lives in the boardroom of his company, working himself to death, my mother spends hers planning fundraisers and social events. She was and still is a real debutant and had assumed I would follow in her footsteps. I had become the Carroway dirty little secret and a real disappointment when my parents had found out I landed a book deal with my publisher. For an erotic novel, of all things. Oh, the nerve of me for writing porn on paper. My mother almost had a stroke.

No respectable person would write erotic romance, my mom had said to me, as I laughed all the way to the bank, imagining her choking on the olive in her martini glass.

My father was a different story. Once I showed him the advance check for my first book, he changed his tune. Money is the only thing that matters in my family. People are pawns moved around in life like a game of chess. That’s how my father sees things, which I suppose has a lot to do with why I like playing with people, testing them to see how far they will go.

I made the wrong decision with Carter. What works on some will not work for others, and in Carter’s case, my games were only fun while they lasted. I’m like a shiny new toy for most men. They use me up and cast me aside when they’re through. That’s also why I write from experience. It’s my way of getting revenge on the men who fucked me over. But it’s also what drove Carter away.

Stopping in front of my editor’s office, I raise my hand to knock on the door, banging hard enough that my knuckles hurt as they slam into the wood.

“It’s open,” Sam calls out, loud enough that I can hear him. “Come on in. Don’t make me get up.”

When I step inside, I take in the sight of Sam’s disheveled office, staring in awe of the chaos. It’s even worse than the last time I had visited. Sam has piles of papers, folders, and binders stacked on his desk and even more lumped together on the long conference table that spans most of the room. What’s the point in having chairs? No one could sit there without breathing in a bunch of dust or without having to sit on their feet to see over the mounds of clutter.

In front of the long row of windows are plants and various knickknacks from Sam’s travels around the world. Sam is an interesting man, to say the least. He’s been my editor since I signed with the publishing house after I graduated from high school. Watching him cringe over some of my more risqué work always gives me a little joy, a small victory I have to experience in person, which is why I love pitching new ideas to him face-to-face.

I drove all the way to Manhattan just to see his expression change when I tell him about my new book. I plan to call it On His Knees. After bringing so many men to their knees over the years, I have a bit of experience in that department. And I will use every bit of that knowledge for the book. Too bad Carter ditched me before I could complete the experiment.

It also sucks that I was starting to like him. A lot. Like, way too much for the short amount of time we have known each other. I hate myself for diving in head first with Carter, only to end up with the same disappointment as the others before him.

“Sydney,” Sam says, with a smile as he gets out of his chair and comes around to my side of his desk. He kisses me on each cheek, hugging me close to his chest, but still keeping a reasonable distance between us. “You look…different.” Sam studies me for a few seconds with an odd look on his face.

Middle-aged with dark brown hair that’s graying in the front and on the sides, Sam is still handsome in his own way. But he really needs to learn how to take care of himself. Sam needs a wife or a mother or someone to help him. The coffee stain on his shirt stands out on the white oxford he’s wearing with no tie, and the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His gray slacks are wrinkled and in desperate need of ironing. They also have pen marks on them.

Despite his age, Sam is old school when it comes to editing my books. He literally red pens those fuckers and makes me sit there while he does it, so he can tell me all the things I did wrong and need to fix. Then, he lectures me about what I need to work on and where I can improve.

“I haven’t done anything different since the last time I saw you, Sam.” I flip my curls over my shoulder as he takes a step back. “Same old same old.”

“Well, you look…I don’t know. Something is off about you today. It’s not your hair.” He scrunches his nose, thinking it over. “You’re not glowing. That’s it.”

I laugh so hard my stomach hurts. “Glowing? Don’t be ridiculous.”

“You are always so radiant and bubbly, full of life. Today, you seem upset. The Manhattan traffic will do that to you.” He rubs underneath my eyes. “I mean for God sakes, Sydney, you have makeup streaks on your face. Is everything okay? This is so unlike you.”

We have been friends for so long that Sam can see right through the façade. I wear my moods like a mask. If only my moods were more of a shield, so I wasn’t left so defenseless. Under his gaze, I am vulnerable and weak. Because I know I can open up to Sam, let him into my world.

“It’s a guy.” I sigh, and he clamps a strong hand down on my shoulder, waiting patiently for me to continue. “I thought it would be fun to play one of my games with him. He was into it for a while, but it’s been weeks since I heard from him. And well, I don’t know what to do. He hasn’t retuned my phone calls or texts. I’m kind of losing my mind.”

“This game,” he says, hesitant, “what did it entail?”

I shrug. “The usual. I wanted Carter to work for the sex, and he was a good sport about it at first, but I have no idea why he flipped the switch. I’m starting to get worried about him. He’s a friend of a friend, so it’s not like we won’t see each other at some point. Our friends are having a baby together, which makes the likelihood of us seeing each other high. I wouldn’t be surprised if he were the godfather of their child. And I already know I’m the godmother.”