Haze

I'd taken her to a room at an hourly rate hotel minutes after we met. It was small, disgusting, and afforded me everything I needed to drag her into the pit of desperation I was in at the time. I'd fucked her roughly, used her, and when it was done, she'd begged for it again.

I'd given in the next night and for countless nights after that, not because my body couldn't resist her. It was the escape that I craved.

Each night was a repeat of the one before with less emotion. Until finally one night with each drive of my cock down her throat I felt the emptiness grow. When I looked down at her face covered in a mixture of sweat, her lipstick, and my release, I saw my own regret.

I'd ended it then; told her that it wasn't her but as the days wore on and her persistence grew, my patience waned. She called, sent hundreds of emails, and text messages and then the day she arrived at my office in nothing but a trench coat, I'd been as brutal as I'd ever been.

I was cold and callous as I told her that she was nothing to me. I'd ordered her out of my office, my life, and the city, if I recall. I wanted her gone and as I grabbed her hand to yank her towards the door, she'd collapsed. She'd fallen onto the floor, weeping and whispering words about love and connection.

I stood there, above her, resolute and unyielding as I pulled her back to her feet, closed the coat around her nude body and had security escort her to the street.

I avoided the club for more than two years after that. I chased my need to satisfy my desires when I traveled. I'd meet women in Rome or London and when the night was done, they were forgotten as easily as the movie I'd watch on the flight there.

Months ago, when I finally ventured back into that same club she sat next to me again when I ordered my drink. I flinched when she touched my leg. I pushed her hand back into her own lap and then I looked at her face and when I did I saw something much different.

She'd been married, divorced, and engaged again during the years we didn’t speak. She was there with her fiancé, a high profile banker from Wall Street who she met at a concert. I shook his hand, excused myself and realized that her desperate behavior years before had nothing to do with me after all. It was the drive within her to find someone to cherish her and she had.

"How's Clinton?" I ask only because if her fiancé is no longer in the picture, she has no place near me. "When's the wedding?"

"Your invitation is in the mail." She doesn't hesitate as she takes a seat next to me at the table. "Will you bring a plus one?"

If the intention of the question is anything more than the obvious, I'm not aware. We've come a long way and although I'd never include her in my circle of friends, she's no longer my enemy. There are parts of me that she's seen that I need to protect and the best way for me to do that now, is to be cordial. "Unfortunately, my schedule is full, Sage, but I'll send a gift. Where are you registered?"

She ignores the question in favor of ordering a drink when the waiter approaches. "Why weren't you at the club? I assumed you'd be there."

I push my lunch aside, my appetite suddenly vanishing. "Did my assistant tell you I'd be here?"

Her green eyes scan the posh interior of Axel NY before they settle back on me. "I dropped by your office to catch up. She told me you were doing some business over lunch but, alas, here you are alone."

I make a mental note to instruct Sophia on the finer points of dealing with Sage Butler which include never telling her where I am. "What do you want?"

Her gaze falls on the server who is now approaching with her lemon drop martini. "I need a sip before we talk."

I need an entire bottle of scotch before I can carry on a full blown conversation with Sage but I have three meetings that need my attention this afternoon. The glass I've half consumed is my limit for the day. I'll have to rely on that to get me through the remainder of my now ruined lunch.

She sips the drink carefully, rolling the liquid around on her tongue before she swallows it. She tilts her head back slightly. A man sitting at the table next to us watches her movements, his eyes focused on her short black hair. It's styled wildly which only further reflects the woman she can be. The rest of her is flawless, right down to her expensive heels and the impressive diamond ring adorning her left hand.