said-”
“I said it could use some work, which is what we are
going to do. Don’t worry.”
“Can we do it without being sexist?” She bit her lips,
as though she didn’t really mean to say that. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to imply
you were sexist.”
“You straight up called me a sexist. That’s not
implying anything,” I frowned. I really wasn’t. I just had been searching for a
woman who could match my intelligence, and I had yet to meet one in the
financial industry. I still hired plenty of women and they all got equal pay.
Aria was intriguing though.
She mumbled something inaudible.
“What was that?”
“Nothing,” she flashed me the brightest smile she
could muster. “Would you like some coffee?”
“You keep offering to make me coffee, what’s your
game?” I eyed her suspiciously.
She looked furious. “My ‘game’, is giving you some
caffeine for energy while you seem to be working hard on whatever big important
thing you’re working on. It’s called being nice; some people do it sometimes
without an alternative agenda in mind.”
Oh. Shit. I must have hit the wrong button.
“I did not mean to offend you,” I said after a few
moments. “I’ll take that cup of coffee.”
She walked out without saying a word, and I felt a
strange emotion that I couldn’t quite identify. Remorse? That couldn’t be true,
why would I feel guilty about questioning her motives? Everyone had ulterior
motives. I was doing so many nice things for Aria, and not a single one of them
without the intention of fucking her. Am I so horrible to assume she was
attempting to do the same for some unspecified intentions?
Yes, yes I was. It was just coffee. For the second
time in the last twenty-four hours, Aria Roberts had unintentionally managed to
make me question my cynicism. I was starting to believe that this girl was
simply a terrible influence. Another, much smaller part of me was intrigued by
the very possibility that I could question my outlook on life. That thing she
had said about objectifying women, for instance. It stuck with me. I wasn’t
deluded enough to think myself innocent of such behavior, but twenty-three
times in just a few days’ worth of conversation with a single person? That felt
like a little too much, even for me. I would have to be very conscious of that
around her from now on, especially if I was going to seduce her. It was
essential that she believed that it was a good idea.
---
By the time she returned, I had already heard back
from the Economics Journal.
“I have good news,” I said as soon as she walked in.
“I’m out of the contract and now you’re just going
to loan me the money out of the goodness of your heart?” she asked with a
straight face.
Technically she didn’t have to do anything
significant as a part of the deal, so I was surprised by her attitude. I felt a
surge of rage begin to bubble up when I made the mistake of catching her eyes.
They were shining and there was a slight hint of a dimple on her soft cheeks.
She was joking.
“We both know that I don’t have that good of a
heart,” I said.
“I think you have a better heart than you think you
do,” she shrugged.
Hearing those words made me feel way better than it
should have. She thought I was a good person? That wasn’t something I was used
to. The best I got from people, as far as positive reactions go, was fearful
reverence. People respected what I had done with the company, they were
impressed by how successful I had managed to become at a relatively young age.
Never, or at least not in a very long time, had somebody actually appreciated
my character. Not even me, I realized. After my dad passed away, all my morals
began to intertwine together into a deeply gray area, where right or wrong only
differed in the dollar value it brought to the company. Or in my personal life,
on how easily and frequently it got new women to my bedroom. My dad was the
person who always kept me on my toes and insisted
“I said it could use some work, which is what we are
going to do. Don’t worry.”
“Can we do it without being sexist?” She bit her lips,
as though she didn’t really mean to say that. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to imply
you were sexist.”
“You straight up called me a sexist. That’s not
implying anything,” I frowned. I really wasn’t. I just had been searching for a
woman who could match my intelligence, and I had yet to meet one in the
financial industry. I still hired plenty of women and they all got equal pay.
Aria was intriguing though.
She mumbled something inaudible.
“What was that?”
“Nothing,” she flashed me the brightest smile she
could muster. “Would you like some coffee?”
“You keep offering to make me coffee, what’s your
game?” I eyed her suspiciously.
She looked furious. “My ‘game’, is giving you some
caffeine for energy while you seem to be working hard on whatever big important
thing you’re working on. It’s called being nice; some people do it sometimes
without an alternative agenda in mind.”
Oh. Shit. I must have hit the wrong button.
“I did not mean to offend you,” I said after a few
moments. “I’ll take that cup of coffee.”
She walked out without saying a word, and I felt a
strange emotion that I couldn’t quite identify. Remorse? That couldn’t be true,
why would I feel guilty about questioning her motives? Everyone had ulterior
motives. I was doing so many nice things for Aria, and not a single one of them
without the intention of fucking her. Am I so horrible to assume she was
attempting to do the same for some unspecified intentions?
Yes, yes I was. It was just coffee. For the second
time in the last twenty-four hours, Aria Roberts had unintentionally managed to
make me question my cynicism. I was starting to believe that this girl was
simply a terrible influence. Another, much smaller part of me was intrigued by
the very possibility that I could question my outlook on life. That thing she
had said about objectifying women, for instance. It stuck with me. I wasn’t
deluded enough to think myself innocent of such behavior, but twenty-three
times in just a few days’ worth of conversation with a single person? That felt
like a little too much, even for me. I would have to be very conscious of that
around her from now on, especially if I was going to seduce her. It was
essential that she believed that it was a good idea.
---
By the time she returned, I had already heard back
from the Economics Journal.
“I have good news,” I said as soon as she walked in.
“I’m out of the contract and now you’re just going
to loan me the money out of the goodness of your heart?” she asked with a
straight face.
Technically she didn’t have to do anything
significant as a part of the deal, so I was surprised by her attitude. I felt a
surge of rage begin to bubble up when I made the mistake of catching her eyes.
They were shining and there was a slight hint of a dimple on her soft cheeks.
She was joking.
“We both know that I don’t have that good of a
heart,” I said.
“I think you have a better heart than you think you
do,” she shrugged.
Hearing those words made me feel way better than it
should have. She thought I was a good person? That wasn’t something I was used
to. The best I got from people, as far as positive reactions go, was fearful
reverence. People respected what I had done with the company, they were
impressed by how successful I had managed to become at a relatively young age.
Never, or at least not in a very long time, had somebody actually appreciated
my character. Not even me, I realized. After my dad passed away, all my morals
began to intertwine together into a deeply gray area, where right or wrong only
differed in the dollar value it brought to the company. Or in my personal life,
on how easily and frequently it got new women to my bedroom. My dad was the
person who always kept me on my toes and insisted
Similar Books
