Billionaire’s Pursuit(3)

 “Well, Grey?”

 I looked up at her. How had I done this to myself again? Every time I hire a good assistant, I go and screw it up by, well, screwing them.

 “Listen, Mary Ann,” I began.

 “No Grey!” she snapped, interrupting me. “I want an answer, now! Am I going with you to Los Angeles or not? I’m tired of whatever this is we are doing. I want to be more than…”

 I nodded, raised my index finger in the air and silenced her mid-sentence.

 “Mary Ann, you know I enjoy your company but, like I told you in the beginning, there’s nothing to this. You won’t be going anywhere with me. I've got no interest in doing anything more with you than what I already do. If that’s not sufficient, you’re welcome to leave. But I’m warning you—don’t say something you’ll regret later because you misinterpreted what is happening between us. Or, not happening as the case may be.”

 As I spoke, I noticed the jagged lines of her angered expression begin to dissolve into the beginnings of a tear-filled meltdown. Moisture pooled at the corners of her eyes as she attempted to stop their advance. She made careful strokes under her eyes, preventing them from spilling forward and ruining her makeup.

 “Grey,” she begged. “Please don’t do this.”

 “Do what, Mary Ann?”

 “Treat me like I’m nothing.” She waved her arms and spread them open as she continued, “I knew this would happen. I don’t know why I thought I would be any different. That’s what women are to you, aren’t they? I'm just like a business deal, aren’t I? Once you’ve gotten what you want, that’s it.”

 While she spoke, I rubbed my forehead and hoped somehow I could magically put this genie back in its bottle. I pinched the bridge of my nose between my eyes with my thumb and forefinger as she rambled.

 “I won’t be ignored, Grey,” she continued. “I'm not going to let you throw me away like you do every other woman in your life. I have feelings, deep feelings, for you and…”

 I’d heard enough. Whenever a conversation took this turn it was time to put an end to it, no matter what the cost.

 “Stop. Mary Ann,” I said. “Stop speaking right now before you make a complete fool of yourself.”

 I placed my hands on my desk and pushed myself into a standing position. Looking down at her, for a moment I felt what I always do in these situations. Pity. No matter how many times I tell a woman like her to expect nothing from me other than a bit of my time, they always mistake it for more. I rounded my desk, walked towards her and wrapped my hands on her upper arms.

 She trembled as I held her. Her eyes widened as she looked up at me.

 “Grey,” she uttered. “I love…”

 “No,” I interrupted her. “You don’t. I never promised you anything. I never lied to you about what this was. Isn’t that true?”

 She turned her head away from me and sniffled as I finished. A single tear streamed down her cheek but she didn’t reply. Without turning to look at me, she said, “So now what? Are you just going to fuck me and fire me?”

 It’s amazing how putting your dick in someone can change how they behave towards you. I’d treated this woman damn well and that’s the way she’s going to act? That level of disrespect coming from a man would have deserved a punch to the jaw. But her fairer sex spared her from such an outcome. Instead I shook my head in disbelief, released my grip on her and walked back around my desk.

 “That will be all for now, Mary Ann. You have my word I won’t fire you but as far as you and I are concerned, this is the end of our time together.”

 Then, in a performance I’d seen once or twice or a hundred times, Mary Ann twirled in a huff and stormed towards the entrance to my office.

 “Go to hell, Grey Sinclair!” she yelled as walked out. “I hope you die alone! And I quit!”

 I exhaled, shook my head and eased back into my chair. After a brief moment of reflection, I realized that could have gone much worse. Satisfied it didn’t, I turned my attention to my computer monitor. After confirming the travel arrangements I’d discussed with Katy earlier that day, I scanned the top of my inbox for Randolph’s background check.

 “Let’s see what Katy has in store for me,” I muttered as I finally located it. “Ah, here we go. Madeline Olsen. Twenty-three, aspiring actress and model and hello, hello, what do we have here?”

 I double clicked on a photo of her and felt an immediate pulse in my lower extremities.