I ran the rest of the way down the hall, back to the safety of my own apartment. I couldn’t stay at the Meridien anymore, I had to find another place even if it meant moving back to the Bronx, my old neighborhood with the high crime and shady neighbors. I didn’t care what it cost me, this job, this apartment, my future, I just had to get out, the pain unbearable.
But as I fumbled for my key, the door to Nick’s apartment opened and Jeanette pranced out, her hair a mess, clothes askew, her red lipstick smudged like she’d just sucked a dick. I ducked behind a pillar, not breathing, hoping against hope that she wouldn’t see me.
And evidently she was so delirious with her orgasm that she wobbled on her heels, giving the man inside a small wave.
“Bye big guy,” she purred, licking her lips lasciviously, making that red pout positively glisten in the low lights of the hall. “See you tomorrow.”
And slowly she turned and walked down the hall to the elevators unsteadily, even pausing to brace herself against the wall as if her cunt was sore, achy from a pounding sex session.
Without uttering a peep, I waited until she was gone before letting myself into my apartment. Oh my god, what had I just witnessed? Jeanette? Really, Jeanette? That woman was the opposite of me, tall, blonde and nasty, always shooting dirty looks at anyone who took a moment of her boss’s time. What did she have that I didn’t?
But the little voice in my head spoke then. She has a ton that you don’t, it said. You were just a momentary distraction. Jeanette’s been with Nick for years now, he’s been trashing her pussy for years. And now that he’s tired of you, it’s back to his number one girl … the blonde. Not you, her.
And I collapsed limply on the couch, blind to my luxurious surroundings, blind to the beautiful orchid on the coffee table, the original watercolors that hung on the walls. Because it all belonged to Nick … and I couldn’t stay here anymore, not when my heart was breaking.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Tammy
I rolled out of bed, my head pounding, my body aching like I’d been buried alive under two tons of dirt instead of sleeping in a comfy feather bed. Heaving myself up, I stared at my reflection in the mirror. My skin was dull, my curls oddly limp, a lifeless expression in my eyes.
Because sure, I’d spent eight hours lying in bed but hadn’t caught a wink of sleep. Instead, I’d tossed and turned, my skin alternately flaming and then going coldly clammy, the shock hitting me again and again. How was it possible that Nick didn’t love me? That I was nothing more than a fuck toy to him, one of a few women in rotation?
But that’s the thing. Even I’d repeatedly referred to myself as a fuck toy, his sex doll, his slave willing to do anything, get on my knees and worship at the altar of the billionaire. So I’d brought it on myself. I’d asked for it, treated myself like nothing more than a fuck toy, was it so odd that he treated me that way as well?
I shook my head, miserable. There were no answers, I had no answers. Instead, I put on a drab shirt and skirt, not caring that the clothes were slightly wrinkled and stepped into a pair of shabby flats. Since moving to headquarters I’d tried to do better with myself, wearing heels, doing my make-up carefully each morning, styling my hair so it was a gleaming mass on my shoulders.
But it didn’t matter anymore. I was nothing, a piece of garbage only, and so I grabbed my hair and pulled it into a low ponytail, snapping the rubber band harshly around the curls. My face looked wan and ghastly, dark circles under my eyes, the lids puffy and swollen but I didn’t care. I hurt and couldn’t be bothered anymore.
Slipping a pair of sunglasses on, I stumbled downstairs through the lobby and onto the sidewalk. As usual, Max the chauffeur waited.
“Miss,” he said, gesturing to the car behind him with a white-gloved hand. “At your service.”
And I shook my head slowly.
“No, not today Max,” I said. I would be damned before I took another thing from the billionaire, I was getting to work and logging onto Craigslist immediately to find a new apartment, a new roommate, a new job. I wasn’t getting in Nick’s car, no way no how. So I turned resolutely and started walking. It wasn’t bad, the apartment complex was just on the other side of Midtown, the walk would be thirty minutes at most.
But a horn tooted behind me and Max leaned out of the window, his jaunty cap askew.
“Miss Jones, please get in,” he pleaded in his vague Eastern European accent. “Please.”
I kept walking, ignoring him. I wasn’t taking another thing from Nick Martin under any circumstances.
But Max was insistent.