Fractured Fear (The Devils of New York #1)

Chapter 10

CHAPTER 10

SPENCER

D ressed in my boss bitch getup—black heels and an ivory, silk, button up blouse tucked into fall green, wide-leg dress pants—I look over paperwork for Abstract Dreams. I applied a little more makeup than usual. When Iris saw my red lipstick, she gave me a big whistle in appreciation and hasn’t stopped dropping comments since, making me regret my decision.

I did it because I felt like it. Not at all because I had a man or two in mind while getting ready. And they definitely weren’t on my mind because I had a steamy dream about the two of them.

In the dream, one of them definitely did not say to me “wrap those pretty lips around my dick and swallow like a good girl” after which I woke up and had to finish myself off before going to the gym. That’s not my motivation at all.

I haven’t seen Zane in a few days, so lunch has been boring. Ever since he came into the studio the first time I swear I see him out of the corner of my eye sometimes, but when I look no one is there.

I’m going crazy.

“So”—Iris smacks her gum while parking her ass on the front desk right next to the papers I’m reviewing—“since you’re already all dressed up, want to go to Moonlit tonight?”

I immediately use one of my ready-made excuses. “I can’t. I have to do inventory.”

“Nice try, Hayes did that this morning. I would know. I sat and watched him,” she stares over my head dreamily, not actually looking at anything. “The muscles on that man. Ooo. Just thinking about them gets me going.” She does a little shimmy as if I don’t know what she means.

“What?!” I shout. “When did you two finally get together? I’ve been pushing for a while, and when y’all finally decide to date, you don’t even tell me? Not cool, babe.” My scolding has a little fire behind it.

“We were keeping things on the down low, but when you get good dick, you can’t keep your mouth shut.”

I slap my hands over my ears. “Ew. Ew. Ew. Never talk about Hayes like that to me again. The guy is like my little brother. I don’t want to know what my brother is like in bed.”

“Point made. But it does sound like you have a difficult decision in front of you, I can keep talking about Hayes and his appetite or you can agree to go to Moonlit with me and Alma tonight. It’s been over a month since we last went. Please”—she puts her hands together under her chin—“Please, please, please.”

“Ugh. Fine. As long as there is no more talk of the bedroom escapades going on between you and Hayes for the rest of the night. Promise me.”

“Oh, it’s not always in the bedroom. Sometimes it’s?—”

I cut her off with a scowl.

“Got it. No talking about Hayes and his monster dick,” she hops off the desk with too much pep in her high heeled step. “I’ll go tell Alma.”

I make a point of rolling my eyes so she notices.

She just laughs at my distress and continues on her merry way.

With Iris gone I’m under the impression I can work in peace, but that illusion is shattered when the bane of my existence walks in. Lance Fucking Richards. He used to make me feel uncomfortable with his sly touches and subtle innuendos. The only person that thought he was slick, was himself.

Now he just pisses me off.

He’s wearing a designer, light gray suit with an unbuttoned, pastel pink dress shirt, a matching pocket square, and shiny black loafers. His pale tuscan hair is parted on the side and styled to give the impression of volume with what I’m sure is copious amounts of expensive hair gel. He tries to come off cool with his high-end sunglasses that he doesn’t actually need since it’s overcast outside. Don’t get me started on what he’s obviously compensating for with his cherry-red Ferrari parked out front.

It’s true what they say, you can’t buy taste.

“Spencer, my dear.” Just the way he says my name makes me want to buy a lifetime supply of earplugs. His eyes sweep over me in a way that makes me feel like I need a shower. His gaze sticks to my mouth and the red lipstick. Damn Morning Spencer for thinking that was a good idea.

“How are you? How is business?” He asks, as if we both don’t know how this is going to go. It’s what he always does. He asks about business, I tell him it’s going great, he asks if he can take me out, I tell him no, and he tries to convince me I’m missing out on an extravagant date. Sometimes he buys a couple paintings hanging on the wall for more than the asking price.

I don’t know why he thinks that would impress me. I don’t even paint. Not that he knows, he’s never fucking asked.

“What do you want, Lance?” I ask, trying to sound bored. I need to stay professional, but my patience is absent when it comes to him.

I stand on my three-inch heels and cross my arms. My new height puts me at eye level with him so he can’t look down at me and use his stature to make me feel small. Other men have done it and I refuse to let this douchebag do the same and succeed.

He smiles at me in a way I’m sure he thinks comes off as charming, but it just adds to my annoyance. He flashes a smile at me so full it makes the corner of his eyes crease. He probably thinks it’s charming but his Cheshire smile creeps me out and just adds to my annoyance.

Fuck him for invading my happy Saturday.

“I have an extra ticket to a gala tonight at The Plaza. I need someone on my arm at the event and I figured since you’re a single woman, you’d be perfect.”

Is he fucking kidding right now? He wants me to be his arm candy at some ritzy event where I’ll be bored and miserable as hell. Of course, that doesn’t matter to him, as long as he looks good in the process.

And he just assumed since I’m single that I would be available at the last minute? Wow.

Thank God I can actually say I’m busy. I’ll always be too busy to spend time with this gnat of a man.

“I can’t. I have plans.” He doesn’t need more detail than that.

He condescends in his airy voice that grates on my nerves. “Surely you can reschedule.” He inches closer as if I welcomed him into my space.

Oh. My. God. This is how I lose my mind, isn’t it? I’m finally going to snap.

“No, actually. I can’t reschedule,” I state with a firm voice, bordering on brash.

“Oh God. Lance? Seriously? What is it you want this time?” Iris chides as she saunters up next to me. Her stance mirrors my own. I mentally pull out the popcorn because on the occasion that Iris is here when Lance stops by, she rips him apart like a lion eating its prey.

“Not that it’s any of your business, but I was just extending an invitation to Spencer to attend a gala at The Plaza with me tonight.”

“She can’t. She has plans.”

“Plans she can reschedule.”

“That’s quite the assumption, Mr. Small Dick Energy,” Iris gives him her best inconvenienced look then waves her hand to shoo him away. “Run along and find someone else to take to your boring event. Better yet, don’t. The female population does not deserve your whiny voice screeching in their ears. As a parting gift, here’s some free advice: you need to stop shopping for yourself. That outfit is not doing you any favors. Have you tried not shopping with your eyes closed? It makes a difference, I promise.”

“That’s no way to talk to a customer.” He tries to sound like he’s asserting authority, but it comes off as querulous.

“You’re not a real customer. You just want to get into Spencer’s pants. I feel bad for you, so I’ll let you in on a little secret”—she leans towards him and stage whispers—“it’s never gonna happen.”

I burst out laughing, unable to hold it in anymore.

“Need me to go get Paul or Hayes?” Iris directs her question at me.

I eventually stop laughing and answer, “No, it's okay. I’m sure Lance here has a lot to do before his big gala tonight; he’ll be on his way now.”

Finally taking the hint, Lance walks to the door, but before he leaves he turns back to me. “You really should consider hiring more professional staff. I’ll see you next time, Spencer.”

“God. He’s like a fly in the summer. You open the door for half a second and he comes in like he has a right then refuses to leave.”

“You’re not wrong there.”

We stare out the window and watch as Lance struggles to reverse out of his parking spot and peel away.

Once he’s finally gone, Iris grabs my arm and turns me to her.

“So, I talked to Alma and she’s good to meet up at eight which means I’ll be by at six to get you all dolled up and?—“

“Dolled up for what?” A voice questions from behind me.

Not registering the voice and figuring the douchebag came back for seconds, I roll my eyes so hard I’m sure they’ll never come back to the front of my head.

“Not now, Lance. I told you I’m not…” I trail off when I finally turn towards the door.

It’s none other than one of the two men currently occupying all of my thoughts.

Zane. Fucking. Kingston.