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Chapter Two

Chapter Two

I

t had taken twenty-seven minutes to get to Carl’s building. “Carl Mason, please,” Debra told the guard.

He looked at her with a bland expression. “I’m sorry, ma’am. Unless you’re on his expected guest list or are coming in with him, I can’t let you up.”

Her gaze fell to the name tag on his uniform before she cleared her throat.

“Brian, surely you can make an exception. I want to surprise him. And you know how Carl loves surprises.”

The man looked at her, expressionless. “He actually doesn’t, ma'am.”

“Well, how would you know? Maybe our relationship is simply a little different,” she tried.

“Carl Mason isn’t in a relationship with anyone at the moment,” Brian said confidently.

Debra drew in a sobering breath while attempting to stay calm. Carl lived in a high-rise condominium complex in downtown New York City. She remembered the view from his place. He’d plastered her against it several times that night when she went home with him after their second date. A soft, plush bed for her to wake up in. A luxurious bathroom, complete with miniaturized toiletries for her to indulge in. She had taken a bath at nine in the morning simply because she could and come out in a plush robe where breakfast and a note had greeted her.

Even though Carl had to scoot off to work that Saturday morning, he had taken the time to make her food. Leave her a note. Make sure she knew she hadn’t been left alone without a second thought. Those were the kinds of things that drove a woman like Debra toward a man like Carl.

But now, everything had changed.

“Let me up,” she demanded.

“No.”

“You let me up to see that sorry excuse of a man right now, or I’ll—”

He leaned forward, interested. “Or you’ll what?”

She bit her tongue to stop from saying the first, second, or third comment that came to mind. “Look. You have no idea the conversation I have to have with this man. And while I look upset, I don’t want to ruin his reputation,” she pointed a finger down and twirled it in a circle, “or whatever little arrangement he’s got going on with you. So, I would very much appreciate it if you would let me up to his place.”

He shook his head. “I can’t do that, Miss Stone. You know I can’t.”

“Damn it, Brian! You know me. You’ve seen me here. I’ve dropped things off for him. Gone out to dinner with him. Come back home with him. I’m not a stranger.”

“Doesn’t matter, Miss Stone. If he’s not expecting you or if you’re not with him, I can’t let you up. Condo policy.”

“Screw policy! That man is a filthy player, and he deserves to be called out for his disgusting ways.”

Brian’s eyebrows hiked up, but he still refused to budge.

“Listen, Brian. You and me? We understand one another,” she said as she leaned on his desk with her elbows. “Did you know he’s been sleeping with twenty-six other women?”

Brian narrowed his eyes.

“Yes.

Twenty-six

. All in different countries around the world. Think about it. Do you have a daughter, Brian?”

“Two,” he said flatly.

“What if a man like Carl Mason had sank his teeth into one of your daughters? How would that make you feel?”

“I know what you’re doing, Debra, and it won’t work.”

“Your daughter’s standing here, staring into the eyes of a security guard who’s preventing her from confronting the man who broke her heart. Twenty-six women, Brian. And your daughter was simply another notch on his belt.”

Debra watched his nostrils flare before he leaned back in his chair.

“Just let me up. Hmm? I won’t say a word that it was you. Cross. My. Heart.”

She dragged her fingertips over her exposed cleavage, watching as his eyes trailed after them. There wouldn’t be a damn thing standing in her way when she walked to that elevator. Compromising a bit of dignity to hold her head high when she walked into that conversation with Carl was a small price to pay for the wool he’d attempted to pull over her eyes. And when Brian’s gaze panned back up her neck and connected with her eyes, she knew she had him.

“I’m going to the bathroom, Miss Stone. I’ll see you when I get back to continue this conversation, right?” he said.

But Debra saw his hand slip under the desk and press a button that lit up the elevator beside her. She waited until he stood and left to disappear down the hallway, and then she lunged at the elevator button. The sound of the whirring mechanism filled her with a salacious happiness. She’d have to send that man a gift. A gift basket.

Scores

of gift baskets.

The doors opened and she stepped in, rolling her shoulders back and holding her head high. With her purse draped over her arm and her heels making her look absolutely devilish, the doors closed and dragged her up to the top floor. Up to Carl’s floor.

When she stepped out, she watched him slip out of his abode.

“Just the man I wanted to see,” she bit out.

Carl panned his gaze over to her, locking his gray eyes with hers.

“You’ve really got some nerve, you know that? Thinking I wouldn't find out,” she said as she stalked toward him. She swayed her hips. Dipped them as far as they would go with every step she took. Smug underneath her anger, she watched Carl’s eyes as they ventured over her body. He leaned his shoulder against his doorway, his hands in the pockets of his tailored suit.

He looked debonair. Important. Professional.

At nine o’clock at night.

The fucker.

“You’re a disgrace of a man,” she said as she stopped in front of him. “It’s one thing for a man to be honest about his intentions with a woman. To know he wants me for nothing but my money or my body or my influence. But to be dragged along in his talons, thinking he could be someone suitable to stand at my side, when really he was only after one of those things? It takes talent, Mr. Mason. Talent you apparently have.”

She stopped in front of him, gazing up into his dancing gray eyes. He looked amused by her anger, and Debra didn’t like that. What the hell did he have to be happy about?

“I’m not often played by men, Mr. Mason, and I’m not starting now. You think your money gets you everything. But it doesn’t. It doesn’t get you me. It doesn’t get you my trust. My legacy. My

sex!

She slammed her purse against his chest as he stood there, stoic and grinning.

“It doesn’t get me by your side. Or in your lap. Or against your damned window!”

She slapped her purse against his arm, and his grin only grew.

“You thought I wouldn't find out you had twenty-six other girlfriends in other countries? Huh? Did you think that simply because they lived somewhere else, I wouldn’t figure out about that? You're nothing but a common man-whore, Carl Mason. And your money doesn’t mean shit if you funnel it through the pussies of multiple women. At least the playboys running around town focus on one woman to screw over at a time. Sure, the cycle doesn’t last long, but neither does the disappointment. But one at a time doesn’t do it for a man like you, does it? No. You've got to snag twenty-six of them. Dozens of them at once to make you feel like a man.”

Debra drew in a ragged breath as she took another step toward Carl’s body.

Her eyes narrowed. “What was it, huh? Did your mother not give you enough attention? Did your daddy parade mistresses around when she wasn’t home? Did he leave your mother for his secretary? Hmm? What makes you think you can use women the way you do and toss them to the side like garbage? Are you really such a lonely prick of a man that you can’t stand to travel somewhere without the company of some Jezebel drooling over you once you disembark from your private fucking jet?”

Carl’s chuckle hit her ears, and it threw gasoline on her already raging fire.

“Do you

really

not care?” she hissed.

Carl cocked his head slightly as she slid her purse back onto her arm.

“Is that what it is? Do you just not care how you affect us? Do you not care that you trample women in your wake and store them away for a rainy afternoon? Do you not care about the time and effort I took making myself up for you? Making myself worth your time? I took the type of care into getting myself ready that I’d wish any man would take to getting himself ready. Does none of that matter to you? Am I really worth so little that I could have shown up in sweatpants and a T-shirt and you still would have taken me home?”

“No,” Carl said.

She threw her hands in the air. “Well, the mute speaks.”

“A man still has to have standards,” he answered, grinning once more.

“Why, you sorry sack of—”

She brought her hand around to crack him against his cheek, but his hand flew up and wrapped around her wrist. He held her hand there, her fingers trembling, aching to smack them against his skin. Her eyes held his as his grin turned into a full-blown smile, and when he pressed her palm to his lips to kiss, her knees went weak.

“It’s good to see you again, Debra. I’ve always admired your spirit.”

“Your smooth words won’t work on me this time, Carl.”

“Your fiery soul reminds me of why the gods made your hair to match,” he said.

He lowered her arm down to her side, and Debra felt her jaw drop open. How in the world was it possible for a man like him to disarm her with so few words? Her knees knocked with fury, but her muscles relaxed beneath the smooth baritone of his voice. His sandy blond hair was slicked back, and his impeccably-tailored suit showcased every part of his body she enjoyed. His tall stature. His long legs. The effortless strength of his lean form. She gazed into his gray eyes, watching his strong jawline blanket itself in the white smile that gleamed from between his lips.

“Why don’t you come inside?” Carl asked.

His question snapped her right out of her trance.

“Are you

serious

?” Debra asked.

“Of course,” he said as he unlocked his door and opened it, his arm inviting her to step inside.

“You really think after kissing my palm and looking at me with that voodoo stare of yours that I’d just trollop into your home so you can have your way with me again?”

“I wasn't going to have my way with you. I was simply going to explain what’s happened.”

“Oh, so you thought you could explain away the twenty-six girls I found out you have strewn across the globe.”

“Yes,” he said plainly.

Debra snickered and shook her head as he held out his arm.

“I’m not going in there with you. I’m not taking one step into your place ever again. Tell me, do you clean it after you christen it with a new girl? Or did my body fall flat onto a bed that had the remnants of twenty-six other women on it?”

“Don’t worry. I flip my mattress,” he said coyly.

“You flip your mattress. Cute.”

“You look quite cute yourself when you’re upset.”

“Oh. You think I’m cute when I’m upset? Well, sweetheart, you just settle in.” Debra pushed past his towering form and slammed her way into his condo. “Because I’m about to be fucking gorgeous.”

She tossed her purse over the back of his couch and slid her arms out of her coat. With a deliberate gesture, she tossed it to the side, watching it catch on the edge of the arm of the couch before she turned and crossed her arms over her chest. She cocked her hip and straightened her legs, a stance she chronically used in a boardroom whenever she needed to assume control of a situation.

Carl closed the door silently, then turned his face toward her and smirked.

“Care for a glass of wine?” he asked.

“Hardly,” Debra said flatly.

“What if I could talk you into one?”

“You're not getting me drunk, Carl.”

“Like I said, that was

never

my intention.”

“You just want me to come into your apartment and have an innocent drink while we talk.”

“No. I want us to have an innocent drink after we talk.”

“Stop being so cryptic. You got me into your place. Now tell me what the hell type of explanation you think you have that will make me okay with you trying to make me number twenty-seven.”

“I never said I’d try to make you okay with it.”

Carl stalked toward her, looming over her as she craned her neck to keep his face in view. His hand slipped out of his pocket, fell to her hip, and his warmth called to her. Invited her in. Ushered her through a door she should have never walked through. He bent down and kissed her cheek, and his soft lips shot electricity down her spine. She curled her fingertips into the wooden frame of the couch, desperately trying to keep her hands to herself.

“I simply said I’d explain it to you,” he whispered into her ear.

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