Broken Barriers (Barriers Series Book 4) (34 page)

“You know very well that Matthew is getting married.”

“Oh yes, to that all American white bread girl. I don’t know how she managed to tame him. Do you need a date?” I watch her dull eyes dance and wonder about her motives. “Are you looking for white bread, too, Rhys? To be tamed? I can do that. Is that what you think will make you happy? These American girls that stand by their man, someone to follow you around like a devotee? Is that what you’re hoping for? Maybe you’ll find one of white bread’s Middle American friends. They are sure to be dazzled by all that you can offer, all that you have. Not to mention the things you can do.” She stalks slowly towards me. “Things we taught each other, remember?” Her hands are raised in surrender, but she is pressing in, ever the aggressor. I meet her in the middle of the elevator, clutching her arms. My hands wind easily around her small, bony wrists, her blood surges, pulsing against my grip.

“Don’t!” I growl, dropping her arms to her sides. “Do you want my attention, Nadja?”

“Yes,” she breathes, pressing into me, arching her back. She is so predictable, so needy. Like dangling a carrot in front of a trotting mare, she chases what she wants, blinded to anything else.

“Then you shall have it.
If
you can follow my instructions, can you do as you are told?” A slight curve to her pouty mouth tells me she is game. “I don’t want to see you until Thursday. Do you understand?” She lowers her eyes and nods. “Nadja?”

“Yes, I understand,” her voice is soft, her body curled into itself, passively waiting for further instructions.

“Good.” I gather my duffel and make a beeline from the elevator, onto the curb and into the waiting Town Car, leaving Nadja in the dust. She infuriates me, her defiance, and her aggression. She is so manipulative, using her body to get whatever she wants. All of her lies, her utter betrayal. She made a fool of me. I was sure that I was her white knight, destined to save her from herself. But, I wouldn’t save her now if she was drowning in front of me. She has become so wicked and twisted, taking pleasure in other people’s pain in the extreme. She is predatory, but you would never suspect from the outside. Her beauty masks the vicious animal inside. The more fame and attention she gets, the more horrible she becomes. And now she has created this façade, this mask she wears. Always appearing to be on her best behavior, when behind it all, rages an out of control, sex crazed, selfish, sociopath.

I rest my eyes and try to distract myself as we wind through rush hour traffic in Manhattan. Shit, I may as well take a nap, or do some work. Or maybe consider my pick for the weekend. Lord knows there will be a gaggle of willing ladies down in Miami this weekend for the festivities. Any one of them could help to distract me and occupy my time. Problem is, I have been with a good number of them already, and I don't like to double dip. As for the others, as I go over the catalog in my head my thoughts wander around to Sophie. Is that her name, Sophie? I'm not entirely sure. It is far too easy to tune Olivia out when she drones on. And, man does she drone on about this girl, Sophie, dropping none too subtle hints about me meeting Sophie ever since she invited her down to Miami.
You are going to love Sophie. Sophie is so
great!
I don't know what could be so great about a small town girl who graduated from a state school and works for a local paper. I would be willing to bet that she has never even left the country. What on earth am I going to have in common with this girl? Does it even matter?

The way Olivia described her I was expecting some pudgy Pollyanna, but she is beautiful, what I could see of her. Olivia definitely undersold her there. It was a fleeting glance as they walked into the lounge. Her short, dark hair bounced around her face as she laughed, her giggle is what caught my attention, but it was her curves that kept me fixed. Round hips and a narrow waist. It was clear from looking at her that she wasn't the kind to starve herself or fret over a meal, the word buxom comes to mind. If it wasn't for that round little ass of hers, I doubt she would be able to balance the weight of those beautiful, no doubt natural breasts. What the hell? Snap out of it, man. It hasn't been that long. Besides, this girl is not the kind of girl I am used to. Women have been willing to do almost anything for my affections and attention for as long as I can remember. I have been surrounded by bright shiny objects my entire life, most of which I could have at a moment’s notice. But I have a feeling that this girl may not be so easy. The way she looked at me in the lounge and so easily shook me off. No, I should set my sights elsewhere, on a more seasoned target perhaps. I wouldn't want to do anything to upset the balance, or God forbid piss off Olivia. I run through the catalog of others as we pull onto the tarmac and the plane is loaded. I switch off my business cell with a satisfying finality and slip it into the outer pocket of my duffel, with no intention of switching it back on until Sunday. From now until then it is all about Matthew and Olivia, no business, just pleasure. And I will find my pleasure.