Mr. Mistake

It was a tough morning. Benjamin saw a commercial on television for a local fair and got agitated when I said we wouldn’t have time to go. What started as a simple discussion quickly turned into a full-blown meltdown. It had been a while since he had one of those, so I tried to be gentle and understanding. I knew it seemed like the children in the commercial were having fun, and Benjamin believed he could join them, but the last time we took him to a crowded, public place, it had not gone very well. His doctor recommended no more than two to three people at a time while we worked on his tolerance and ability to handle crowds. On top of Benjamin’s meltdown, work was already blowing up my phone, and Ms. Ruth was running late because of traffic.

“I’m here!” Ms. Ruth pushed open the door and her words were barely heard of Benjamin’s screaming. “Oh, dear… What happened?”

“He wanted to go to the fair. I told him it wasn’t a good idea and we probably wouldn’t have time with my work schedule—now we’re here.” I scratched my head and let out a sigh.

“Let me talk to him.” Ms. Ruth walked into the living room and sat down on the floor beside Benjamin.

Ms. Ruth was so good with him. I felt guilty when I watched her easily calm him down with a few gentle words. I was an awful father that had no idea how to help my son overcome his challenges. When he was calm enough to give me a hug, I walked out the front door swallowing a lump in my throat that clenched my esophagus. I had to be a better father—hell, I had to be a better man. Unfortunately, I couldn’t dwell on it too much because I had a lot of things going on at work I had to address. The stock market took a dive when it opened and there were several clients that seemed to be more agitated than Benjamin was. I fired off emails to my staff, giving them directions for handling some of our high-profile clients. By the time I got to the office, things seemed to have settled down.

“Your coffee, Mr. Martin?” My secretary, Amanda, stood and handed me my normal morning request as I walked up to her desk.

“Thank you.” I smiled as I felt the first sip hit my tongue. “Any messages?”

“Nothing pressing. You handled most of it before you got here.” She leaned towards the phone as it rang.

I walked into my office and closed the door. The city spread out beneath my window with a view I rarely took time to appreciate. I started going through my email and then picked up my phone. It suddenly hit me that I hadn’t heard a single word from Abby since our encounter. That was very unusual behavior for someone I shoved my cock into—especially a virgin. My mind started to drift back to our encounter. There was something different about Abby and I really couldn’t put my finger on exactly what it was. When I met her at the club, she seemed like every other lost soul that didn’t know what they wanted until I served it up to them on a silver platter. I had already stepped outside my normal routine by pursuing her after being rejected at the club and before I really had time to think about it, I was sending her an email asking for a second date.

NOT INTERESTED.

“What the fuck?” I felt my temper rising as I sta

red at her response.

I hit reply and immediately started typing a response, making it very clear that she belonged to me and I would have her again whenever I wanted her. When my fingers slowed down and I read what I had typed, I closed the email without sending it. I stared at her response, letting it bounce around in my head. The response was exactly why I kept my emotions and my lust separated. I swore to never let another woman tempt my heart after my divorce and the first time I dipped my toe into the water to test the temperature, I got rejected. I sat at my desk trying to remember how real romance worked. What did people normally do after a first date if they wanted a second? Flowers seemed to help me get the first one—maybe that would work again.

You might not be interested, but I am. I think we both know I normally get what I want.

The flowers would be an offline response to her email and a dash of romance, all mixed into a pretty bouquet. I continued working and when I got a notification that they had been delivered, I checked my email constantly for the next couple of hours, waiting on some sort of response. My ego started to get the better of me when the day ended, so I decided to have my driver swing by her office. If she wanted to tell me no, I was going to make her say it to my face. If I could catch her alone, I would let my lips do the talking and see if she really wanted to resist round two. I walked into the building and approached her desk, but it was empty.

“Fuck…” I stared at the roses I had sent her. They were in the garbage and the note was ripped up, scattered throughout the remnants of my romantic attempt.

“Hi, can I help you?” I heard a man’s voice behind me. “Oh shit, you’re Max Martin!”

“And you are?” I raised my eyebrows as I turned to see a blond haired man smiling from ear to ear.

“I’m Adam Rutherford.” He extended his hand. “I’ve done some work for you over the years—well, for your company.”

“You work here now?” I had no idea who he was, but I tried to be civil. A lot of people did work for my company.

“I’ve been brought on as a consultant for the Energy Enhanced campaign.” His grip was strong when we shook hands.

“Well, that is why I’m here. I was looking for Ms. Abby Grant.” I pointed to her desk.

“She went home for the day. I think she got bad news or something, I don’t know. She’ll be back tomorrow. We have a meeting to collaborate on some ideas. She’s the Team Lead, but I’d be happy to help you with any questions you have. The campaign is coming together very well.” He was overly enthusiastic, but he seemed nice enough.

“Actually, why don’t I stop by tomorrow for the meeting? I’d love to see where you’ve put together so far.” I saw his eyes hit the floor when I made my suggestion.

“We’re not really ready, yet…” He stammered over his words. “But yeah, we’ll have something ready for you. Absolutely, Mr. Martin.”

“Eight o’clock?” I asked.

“Uh, yeah. We were going to meet at nine, but I’m sure everyone will be happy to meet a little earlier.” He nodded quickly.

“Good. I’ll see you then.” I walked towards the exit with a smile on my face.

If you want to play hard to get, then you’re about to learn how dangerous it is to play games with me.

Chapter 13: Abby