Mr Garcia

“Yeah well…. I’m having the week from hell.”

Julian rolls his eyes. “So dramatic.”

“Right?” Spencer chimes in.

“Listen, fuckers” I lower my voice to a whisper and lean toward them. “Between you and me, the fucking prime minister has done a runner from rehab.”

“What?” They both gasp.

“Where is he?” Julian frowns.

“If I knew that, I would go there and give him a swift uppercut to the throat. I don’t have time for this shit.”

Spencer screws up his face. “You really don’t know where he is?”

“No idea. We have security and police searching for him everywhere. If the press gets a hold of this, he’s completely screwed.”

“I don’t understand. I mean, he’s always been a bit of a loose cannon, but…” Julian’s eyes hold mine. “What’s happened to tip him over the edge?”

“His wife left him.”

“Of course, she did.” Spencer throws his hands up in the air in disgust. “There’s always a fucking woman involved.”

“Will you keep your voice down?” I hush them.

“Sorry.” They both look around guiltily.

“What happened?” asks Julian.

“Gardener?” Spencer blows into his coffee. “Was it the fucking gardener? I’m telling you one thing, there is a very good reason my gardener is eighty.” He taps his temple. “It’s called forward thinking, boys. Take notes.”

“Or just plain slave labor.” I roll my eyes.

“Your fucking gardener is eighty. Christ almighty, you’re an asshole.” Julian winces. “Poor bastard is going to have a heart attack.”

“Anyway,” I cut them off. “Theodore is missing, and I’m having to hold the fort. I don’t know how long I can cover for him. Unless he turns up very soon, I seriously doubt I can come away next week.”

“Fuck’s sake.” Spencer sighs. “I only called Ricco yesterday and told him you were bringing a plus one.”

My face falls. “What? Why the fuck did you do that?”

“Now you can bring your new girl.” He smiles sweetly.

“You are such a fuckwit,” I whisper angrily. “I am not bringing her. Besides, she’s now my old girl. It’s well and truly over.”

Masters rolls his eyes as he sips his coffee. “Another one bites the dust.”

“What the fuck did you do, you idiot?” Spencer fumes. “You like her. You really like her.”

I glance over to Julian, who smiles and winks. He loves watching Spencer lecture me over women. It’s his favorite pastime. Not too long ago, it was him on the receiving end.

“I didn’t do anything. She just isn’t the girl for me.”

“Oh, fucking bollocks,” he says. “Fine.” He rearranges the napkin on his lap with renewed purpose. “I’ll invite a date for you. I have a million women lined up waiting.”

“I don’t want a fucking date, Spence. Stay out of my business.” I sip my coffee. “Stick to your pregnancy sex.”

Julian rests his face on his hand and smiles dreamily. “Is there anything better than pregnant sex, though?”

I wince as I get an image of a heavily pregnant women having sex. The thought is disturbing. “I can think of a million things, you fucking pervert.”

“So, what happened with June?”

“April, you idiot,” I correct him.

“I knew it was a month.” Spencer shrugs. “April. What happened with April?”

“Nothing. I fucked it. I’m moving on. End of discussion.”

Spencer’s eyes hold mine. “What did you do?”

“Will you get off his fucking case?” Julian snaps. “Leave the poor bastard alone.”

“Thank you.” I sigh.

“Well?” Spencer asks again.

“It was too hard.”

“Nothing worth it is easy,” Julian says.

“You’re supposed to be on my side, fucker.”

Julian holds his hands up in surrender. “I’m just saying.”

“Don’t.”

“Here you are.” The waitress smiles as she puts our breakfast on the table in front of us. “Three omelets.”

We thank her, and the boys forget all about me as they begin to eat and chat. I eat my breakfast in silence, my mind is miles away.

It’s with April. It’s always with April.

I feel like shit.

April

I watch the dial in the elevator as it goes up the numbers, my mind is filled with poison.

Did he think of me while he was inside of her?

Was I anywhere in his thought process? Or am I imagining something that isn’t there?

The worse thing is, deep down, I know he cares. I know we have something, and we shouldn’t, because we hardly know each other.

Every time I’m in the room with him, my heart is on standby, waiting for him to look my way, waiting to smell his cologne. To feel the power emanating from his body. To feel my own physical reaction to him. The goosebumps, the butterflies, the flush of my cheeks when he makes eye contact. Every little thing means so much.

And it sucks. I fucking hate this.

I’ve waited seven years to feel something for someone. Anything.

It’s ironic that I’ve fallen for someone who has as much baggage as I do.

Maybe even more.

Poor Duke, is this how I made him feel?

It makes me sick to my stomach, I inhale deeply to try and fight off the nausea.