Chapter 1
2238 Words
one
LANCE
I’m peacefully sleeping in my bed when I’m awoken by a huge chunk of hair being sucked into my mouth. I struggle to breathe, then my hands swat to get it out.
Blonde.
They’re almost always blonde when I can manage it. Anything opposite of Kenzie’s dark hair, courtesy of her Filipino heritage, as I can get.
“Ouch!” someone shouts beside me.
Oh yeah, I completely forgot the woman from last night insisted on spending the night.
She sits up and stares at me as if I’m a monster. In her defense, I did just pull her hair like a child.
“Sorry,” I mumble. “You have to be careful where you whip that when you’re in bed with someone else.”
“Your bed is so uncomfortable. I tossed and turned all night.”
I bite my tongue to keep from reminding her that she had the option to go home. I was willing to call her a car to make sure she got there safely, but she’s one of the many women who want to secure a permanent spot in my bed and could not be swayed.
I push the comforter off me and sit with my feet on the floor, rubbing my head before standing.
She plasters herself to my back, her soft t**s pressing into me. “Come back to bed. We can order some food and make a little breakfast picnic.”
I grab my phone off my nightstand and get up. Her body falls forward, her arms hanging off the mattress. “I need to go to work.”
Does she think the money that bought this impressive condo doesn’t come from hard work? Well, in truth, my trust fund bought this—I was blessed to be born into a very wealthy family. My grandfather built the empire I now reap the benefits from. But that doesn’t mean I just piss away money and do nothing with my life.
It’s how I ended up on that stupid list, Most Eligible Bachelors There’s Still Time to Steal, in a local New York magazine that’s now gone viral. These days, I can barely go out without some woman approaching me then acting as if she doesn’t know who I am.
The bigger problem might be that I’ve been taking advantage of it. It makes me feel like a real douchebag. But I’m a man and I’m single, so why shouldn’t I enjoy myself? It’s not as if I’m letting any of these women think I’m looking for a relationship.
I turn on the shower and lock the bathroom door because I wouldn’t put it past Lizzie the Lawyer to try to surprise me by joining me in the shower.
In my wildest dreams, I never thought I’d be one of those guys who’s with a different woman almost every night. There was a time when all I wanted was a wife and kids, pets, a house, and stability. Those days are long gone now.
I don’t even have the towel wrapped around my waist after the fastest shower ever before the bathroom door creeps open. Lizzie’s long blonde hair shines through the opening before I see her face.
“Jesus.”
She giggles, holding up a bobby pin. “Can’t keep me out, silly.” She laughs and goes to the toilet, still naked, and pees.
Isn’t that the kind of thing you refrain from until, like, month six of a relationship or something? I just met this woman last night.
“So, tell me,” she says, taking a strip of toilet paper off the roll. “How does a guy who spends his life in a suit have a body like that?”
I glance at myself in the mirror as if I forgot what I look like. “The gym.”
“Where do you find the time? Aren’t you a workaholic?”
Another assumption.
“No.”
She wipes, flushes, and, thank God, washes her hands before she slides up on my new marble countertop and stares at me. I look at her out of the corner of my eye.
“I have to get to the office soon,” I say, hoping she’ll take the hint. Then I open my phone with my password and see that Josh, my assistant, has left me a detailed outline of what my day looks like.
She waves her hand. “What’s the benefit of having all this money if you’re always working?”
I leave her in the bathroom and head into my walk-in closet to pick out a suit for today.
“Whoa. Anal much?”
My chin drops to my chest. Of course she followed me in. I watch her run her hand along the suits that are hung according to color, all on the same hangers and an equal distance apart.
I’m a polite guy, been praised all my life for my patience, but I think that might be because my best friend and cousin Easton is more of a hothead. In comparison, I look like the patron saint of patience. Regardless, Lizzie the Lawyer is draining my patience like a siphon.
I pick out my suit and slide by her back out to my bedroom, then slide on my boxer briefs with my back to her. “Surely you didn’t become a lawyer without having to work a lot.”
She joins me in the bedroom and shrugs. “Technically, I’m in law school.”
My head whips around. “How old are you?”
She laughs and falls onto the bed—still naked. “Don’t worry. I took a few years off after my undergrad. We’re closer in age than you’d suspect.”
I never told her how old I was, which is another clue, among many others, that she knew who I was before she approached me in the bar last night.
“Listen…” I broach the subject, meaning to tell her that she needs to leave, but her arms flail and she jumps to her feet.
“Let me. Let me. I always wanted to do this.” Her hands reach for me, and she grabs the ends of my tie.
“I’m sorry?” My forehead creases.
“Get my man ready.”
Her hands work on my tie as she hums to herself, our eyes meeting a few times. Once she’s done, I look in my dresser mirror and see that she actually did a great job.
“I’ve been practicing for years. I know all the popular ones—Windsor, double Windsor, four-in-hand, Pratt, Nicky—”
“Thanks.” I cut her off. “I’ll go make some coffee while you get dressed.”
Take the hint, Lizzie. Take the f*****g hint.
“Okay, party pooper.” Her voice changes octaves as if she’s the cartoon character Eeyore.
I say nothing and venture into my kitchen, happy to see a full pot of coffee waiting for me. At least I did one thing right last night, setting the timer. I grab two to-go cups and lids and fill them.
Lizzie joins me a minute later, dressed in the skirt and revealing blouse she wore last night. Her blonde hair is finger-combed at best and she definitely seems fine with the walk of shame.
“I take milk. Do you have milk?” She leans against my counter, pulls out her phone, and lets out an excited squeal.
I roll my eyes and slam the fridge, the bottles inside rattling.
“I completely forgot Love, Marriage, and Where to Find It had a recording drop this morning.”
I place my hand over her phone. “Please don’t.”
Her eyes bug out and her mouth hangs open. “Why? It’s the hottest podcast. Especially for us single folk.” She pokes my stomach as if I’m the Pillsbury Doughboy.
That final ounce of patience finally drained out. “Well, I don’t like it.”
“What’s not to like?” She presses Play before I can stop her again, and I have to hear the music jingle intro before…
“Kenzie Gavino and her best friend, Blake Allen, are here to dish on love, marriage, and where to find it. This episode features—”
I take the phone out of her hand and press Stop.
“Jeez, touchy much?” She scowls at me.
What was I thinking last night?
“Sorry, I have to go and so do you.” I make my way to my door and hold it open for her.
She searches for her purse near the front door, finds it and grabs it, then snags the phone while holding the coffee. “You know, you’re a real jerk. That article said you were the nicest of them all, but you’re the meanest. And one day, you’re gonna wake up and wish you had this body lying next to you.”
What are we, twelve?
“Hate to break it to you, but I won’t.” I release the door and it slams in her face.
“Asshole!” she shouts loudly enough to wake Mrs. Alcott next door, which will earn me a lecture the next time we meet up in the elevator.
I finish my coffee in my condo to make sure I don’t run into Lizzie downstairs, then I call for my car to meet me out front. Thankfully, by the time I climb in the back seat, she’s nowhere in sight.
* * *
By lunch, I’m starving, having skipped breakfast due to my quest to get Lizzie the Lawyer out of my apartment. Josh didn’t have to remind me that I’m meeting up with my cousin Brinley and her boyfriend, Van, who are visiting from Lake Starlight for lunch.
My driver pulls the car up to the corner of the restaurant I picked out. It’s my usual go-to place for lunch with clients—never overcrowded, friendly staff, and quick if I need it to be. Not that I don’t want to spend time with my cousin and her boyfriend, but I do have to get back to the office.
I walk in and the hostess smiles at me. “Good afternoon, Mr. Whitmore.” She takes three menus in hand. “Your table is ready. Right this way.”
I follow her to my table and sit down, thanking her.
“Lance.” The owner, Nico, approaches the table with his hand out. I shake it and he sits in the chair to my right. “Until your guests come.”
“Of course.” I slide my menu away, knowing I’m going to have my usual burger with sweet potato fries. It’s the best I’ve ever had.
“I’m glad you came in. I have something to discuss with you.”
“What’s that?”
The busboy comes over and fills my water glass, and I thank him.
“I’m looking for investors and I figure you might know people,” Nico says.
I chuckle and sip my water. He means rich people. “Is something wrong? Are you late on bills?”
He looks around, biting his cheek. “They raised the rent last year and then again six months ago. It’s been a struggle. This place hasn’t been overhauled in decades. I want to invest some money so that I can raise prices and increase profits. Ideally, though, I move to a new location. I can’t keep up with these increases, but I’d have to buy out the rest of my lease and then I’d need some money to invest in a new location. Then once things were back on track I thought about maybe opening some grab-and-gos around the city. So many people are all about the convenience these days and don’t want to take the time to dine in.”
This building is part of Asbury Enterprises. They own the land and the fancy condo unit above the restaurant, but Nico’s family has been leasing the space here for fifty years.
I went to Columbia with Will Asbury. His family owns Asbury Enterprises, big on condos and luxury hotels around the world. They’re Whitmore Hotels’ biggest competitor. Something I didn’t know until I did my summer internship under my grandfather during my freshman year. That’s when I heard the history behind the Whitmores and Asburys.
“Let me think about it and I’ll get back to you.”
I see the urgency in Nico’s stressed expression, and I wonder how long he has before he’ll have no option but to shut down. What an asshole move on the Asburys’ part because you want good restaurants on your properties.
“Thank you. I knew I could count on you.”
“I’ll make some calls today and get back to you.”
The door opens and I expect to see Brinley and Van, but my hand clenches my ice water instead. Why can’t I get away from her in a city of millions?
“Oh, I have to go.” Nico is quick to stand. “That’s the young Mr. Asbury’s fiancée,” he whispers.
I don’t bother telling him I know exactly who she is because, to me, she’ll never be my biggest rival’s fiancée. She’ll always be my first love and first heartbreak, Kenzie Gavino.
- Writer
