Control Me (2 page)

MEN’S ROOM

“Mya, damn it, hurry the hell up!” Claire shouted, motioning at me with her hand.

Tucking my folders and papers beneath my arm, I hurried in her direction with a slight frown. “Please, Claire. Stop rushing me,” I groaned.

Her eyebrows knitted, and she brought a hand to her hip. “Sweetie, I don’t mean to rain on your shitty Monday parade, but we have exactly seven minutes to make it up to floor thirty-eight or we’ll probably be shit out of jobs. This is the third time this month!”

I met at her side, avoiding her eyes.

“God, you look horrible,” she muttered, clomping ahead of me and pulling open the glass door.

I ignored her, stepping inside and walking as fast as I could to the elevator.

“I’ve never met a woman that gets drunk on Sunday nights. I mean, Wednesdays and Thursdays, I can understand. Even Tuesdays! But Sunday?” She shook her head, tossing her platinum hair over the shoulder of her silver blouse. “Monday is, like, the worst day of the week to have a hangover. And you know we’re supposed to be meeting with the people from Montero’s today, right? Mr. Green is gonna be pissed if he sees you looking like this. He’s been bugging us about it for a solid week.” I couldn’t believe this. She was going on and on about this damn job when my head was about to pop. The aspirin didn’t help, or the Pepto Bismol I downed to ease my stomach, but her nagging damn sure wasn’t helping me either.

“Claire, just shut the hell up! Please!” I begged as she pressed the elevator button. She quickly turned in my direction and deliberately blinked her vibrant green eyes four times.

Shit.

Sensitive Claire.

Ever since I’d met her in college, she’d been the exact same way. A nagger, a whiner, and a perfectionist. But worst of it all was her sensitivity. She took everything to heart, and I mean
everything
. One day, I told her I didn’t want to watch
Pretty Woman
with her again because we’d seen it over a dozen times, and she sulked the entire night. I had to apologize and pop the movie in just to get her to cheer up again.

The elevator doors shot open quickly, sparing us from an awkward stare down. I was hung-over, so of course it was my fault, not hers, but I didn’t need her bashing me about it. We stepped into the elevator silently, and one other person jumped on board before the doors sealed.

Clearing her throat softly, she pressed her lips and tucked her folders under her chin and against her chest, staring up at the neon numbers. The other person got off on the seventh floor, and we headed up again. The silence was killing me—actually, the silence was golden, but the fact that she was so quiet proved she wasn’t going to speak to me until she was ready, or until she found something to talk about that she had to share with me immediately.

I knew if I wanted this day to end well, I needed my best friend to lean on. “Claire… I’m sorry,” I murmured.

She glanced in my direction, tucking a lock of straight hair behind her hair. After pursing her lips she said, “S’okay… I guess.”

“I just— it was a rough one last night. This shit with Terry is really getting to me.”

“Oh… Mya.” Her soft voice caused tears to burn my eyes. Unwanted tears. God, I hated them. They always came at the wrong time. Taking a few steps forward, she lifted my chin and swiped the stray tear away. “I understand how you feel,” she said, “but drinking yourself into oblivion won’t solve anything.”

“I know,” I admitted.

“So, why do it?” she questioned, puckering a brow.

“I don’t know,” I whined with a shrug. “It just… helps a little.”

She sighed, putting one of my loose curls back in place. “Once this shit is done with those Montero people, we’re going out. A club, a lounge… it doesn’t matter. We’re going out for fun. And we can invite the girls on the twelfth floor. They were so much fun that one time, remember?”

I nodded, smiling a little. “Yeah, they were pretty fun.”

Her cheek lifted and a small smile formed on her lips. “Everything will be okay, Mya. Let’s just get through this week.”

I nodded in agreement, swiping the wetness from under my eyes with my finger and then straightening my back. The elevator chimed moments later, the silver doors spread apart, and Claire turned forward. “Let’s get this day over with, shall we?”

I followed her down the hallway, passing by the walls made of mirrors, embroidered with gold and black. Our heels clicked along the sleek marble floors, and along the way, I popped another aspirin. When we reached the front desk, we gave our greetings to Jessica, the secretary, and she glanced at us over her thin glasses, pressing her lips. “Late,” she muttered. “Luckily for you, Green isn’t here yet.”

“Oh, great!” Claire said over her shoulder, her voice laced with sarcasm. When we got far enough, she muttered, “Rusty, miserable bitch. I’m telling you, she’s jealous of us. You know she told me one time that Mr. Green only hired us to stare at our legs?” She scoffed, pressing against the glass door and entering the conference room. “I mean, who says that anyway? It would’ve sounded better if she said he was staring at our asses instead.”

I laughed, and then winced. Ugh. This hangover needed to disappear already. “I’ll set up the papers. You grab the food,” I said, pulling my folders from beneath my arm and placing them on the table. Claire trotted away, pulling open a solid brown door and grabbing the prepared tray. I hurried with the papers, relieved that Green was actually late today. He’d harassed us about being on time this morning and already he was five minutes late. Five minutes late for him was rare. I figured he was nervous… or maybe he’d been hiding away in his office before Jessica arrived. Who knew?

But from what I’d heard, this Montero guy held a powerful company. There were a lot of rumors floating around about him. Most of what I heard was that he treated his clients like shit, but usually, the people that said that were people he rejected or let go. He only worked with the best he could find. He was very nitpicky and self-worthy. He never beat around the bush, and he never held onto liabilities. In my mind, I pictured a stuck-up, middle-aged jackass that had no social life whatsoever. He probably had an over the top, young wife at home that gobbled up his money and wasted it on designer purses and shoes.

“Alright,” I sighed, taking a step back and making sure the documents were in order. “Should be good.”

Claire backed away from the cart, making sure everything looked the way it was supposed to, or in her eyes, perfect. “I don’t understand why we even offer breakfast. None of them ever eat it.”

“Hey,” I said, taking a seat in front of the floor-to-ceiling window. “Don’t complain. That breakfast comes in handy for me sometimes.”

“At least the bagels are fresh.” She took her usual seat beside me, crossing her legs and folding her arms.

Yeah… Bagels.

Crap. Bagels!

My stomach churned dramatically.

Food was the wrong thing to think about right now.

“Shit,” I breathed. “I’ve gotta—”

“What’s wrong?” Claire asked, placing a hand on my shoulder. When she caught sight of my nauseated face, she frowned. “Oh, God. Please don’t tell me you’re gonna puke in here! Mya, Green will kill you!” she hissed, forcing my body up. “And I’m not helping you clean it if it happens here. Go! And hurry back! Don’t be late!”

I hurried for the glass door, pulling it open by the handle and rushing down the hallway. Jessica looked my way, watching as I cupped my mouth and took a hard right turn. “Sterling, what the hell has gotten into you?” she snapped, springing to her feet. “If Green catches you running around here like some maniac when Montero is on his way he’ll end your career!”

Ignoring her, I clobbered down the mirrored hallway, made a quick left, and burst through the first door in sight. Forcing the stall door open, I bent forward and released the putrid vile. “Oh, God,” I groaned. It smelled horrible. I felt horrible. But I wasn’t done. I puked three more times before I was completely finished. After the third time, though, I waited for a few minutes, afraid there was more to come. Realizing no more was building up, I pulled out a mint and popped it into my mouth.

Sinking against the wall, I lowered to a squat and buried my face into my hands. I needed to get my shit together. This wasn’t okay. I mean, yes, I was hurting, and yes, I wanted to get rid of the pain somehow, but this only seemed to make things worse. Being hung-over was getting old. And I was sure throwing up this much acid was going to rot my teeth if I kept this up every day.

Footsteps started in my direction, and I jerked my head up, prepared to slam the stall door. Just as I grabbed the handle and stood up to close it, something heavy pressed against the other side and stopped it from happening.

“Claire, I’m fine,” I said. Only she’d be kind enough to check on me.

“Claire?” The voice was deep, and completely unexpected. But it was familiar. Way too familiar. I knew that voice…

Flushing the toilet, I turned quickly and pulled the door open. And before me stood the man I never thought I’d see again.

He stood confidently, well-tailored in his tan three-piece suit. Most of his raven-like hair was pushed back but styled in a classy part that allowed a few tendrils to hang on his forehead. He was just as tall as I remembered and just as incredibly handsome. His creamy, tan complexion enhanced his well-trimmed moustache and goatee. And those firm jawbones… boy, did the lighting in the bathroom bounce off them the right way. He had to be taller than six-feet; I’d say about six-foot-three, one of the main reasons I stuck around with him during and after the party. His stature, it was perfect. Lean and towering, and from what I could remember was beneath that suit, he was chiseled in all the right places, his caramel skin smooth and warm.

He took a quick look around the restroom through his long, thick lashes and then met my eyes again, tilting his head. He was a very fine man, so fine that I’d slept with him one time and enjoyed it immensely. But I couldn’t remember his name. Although forgetting his name was a huge concern, my biggest concern was why the hell was he here? Did he follow me?

“Hey,” I said, swiping the corners of my mouth and stepping out of the stall with a slight frown. “I… remember you.” He was my Enrique.

“I’m sure you do,” he said, taking a step back.

I hesitated, swallowing thickly. “I’m sorry… um… why are you in the ladies’ room?”

His eyebrows elevated slightly. Then he chuckled. “I believe this is the men’s room, Mya.”

“What?” I gasped. “Shit, I have to get out of here. My boss comes to this restroom at the same time every morning.”

“I assume you mean Donald Green. I’m afraid he won’t be here for another fifteen minutes or so,” he said.

I narrowed my eyes. “How would you know that? Wait… why are you here? H-how are you here? I mean…” Shit. What the hell was I trying to say? “I mean… we were just in Key West a week ago. This is Chicago. I work here. You don’t. I know I’m not dreaming.”

“I have a business meeting with Mr. Green today. It was supposed to start eight minutes ago, but seeing as he’s late, I figure he must not have cared much for the conference.”

“Oh, no, trust me,” I said, quickly lifting my hands to stop him from backing away. “Mr. Green is hardly ever late. There has to be a valid reason.” It was never like me to defend Green, but he was my boss, and whenever his day was shitty, so was mine. He took everything out on us.

“Traffic is his reason,” he mumbled. “If he couldn’t get up sooner to arrive on time, that isn’t my problem. I don’t wait for business. He’s lucky I actually made time to come by.” He looked me over from head to toe. “But I now have a reason to wait just a little while longer.”

“W-what reason might that be?”

“You, Mya,” he said coolly.

I blinked rapidly before forcing a laugh. “Oh…”

He angled his head, taking a small step forward. “You don’t remember my name, do you?”

I sealed my lips, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “Would you hate me if I said no?”

He smirked. “I’d find it surprising.”

“Surprising… why?”

“Because every woman I’ve slept with always remembers my name one way or another. And from what I can recall, you thoroughly enjoyed that night.”

“I was drunk,” I murmured. “Very, very drunk.”

“Yes. I could tell.”

“And, honestly, I was only looking for a good time, just as you were.”

His face tightened a little. “What makes you think I was only looking for a good time?”

I shrugged. “I just figured… I mean, we’d just met and all.”

“Yes, we’d just met, and we could’ve gotten to know each other a little more if you hadn’t run off the next morning.” A hint of a smile appeared on his lips. I didn’t realize it before, but he’d gotten closer. He was only a step away. One more and I was sure to be feeling his body heat… again.

“It was a one-time thing,” I breathed, backing away. Unfortunately, I couldn’t go far. I bumped into the stall, glancing over my shoulder. I moved to the right a little, standing in front of the wall.

He moved with me and pressed a hand on the wall above my head, that ghostly smile still on his lips. “I know you don’t remember my name,” he said, leaning forward.