Imperfectly Bad (13 page)

“She’s gonna have to stay in jail because of this, isn’t she?” I ask as my dad turns the key in the ignition.

“More than likely.”

My mom decides to join the conversation again. “This will be the best thing, Robert. You’ll see.”

I stood outside my office ripping on a cigarette. It was cold and so I was wrapped up in a parka, but I still shivered. Fuckin’ memories ruining my day, again.

The day had been hellish already, and it wasn’t even lunchtime yet. A week had passed since the last time I’d seen Jenny. Waiting to hear something was killing me, but I’d heard nothing. All week long I was expecting to be served with papers, and to say that I was on edge was an understatement.

It was stupid, I knew that. I mean, what was the big deal if I signed the papers? It’s not like we were ever
really
married anyway. We’d had one day together. That was it. It was ridiculous to hold on to it like some sort of prize. Sick really. Call me crazy, but I was scared to death at the thought of it. I’d lost her before, sure, but it had always just been a mystery. If I lost her this time—signed the papers and let her move on—it was more like I was giving up. Letting her go. And I just couldn’t do it.

I tossed the butt to the floor, stubbing it out with my foot. If only I could stomp out the fire that still burned for Jenny like I did to all those cigarettes it would make life so much easier.

The cold eventually became too much and I walked back inside the building and up the stairs to my office. I passed people but avoided making eye contact, something that was highly unusual for me. I was the rowdy guy in the office. I knew everybody, and everybody knew me because I’d say asinine things, make people laugh. I was the energy, the fun, the life of the office. But lately I think I was sucking the life out of it.

“You alright, boss?”

Looking up from my feet I saw my secretary, Layla, sitting behind her desk, looking slightly concerned. “Yeah, I’m fine,” I lied.

“You just haven’t been yourself lately.” She leaned forward and whispered, “People are starting to talk.”

Putting my pity party on hold, I decided to stay and chat a while, I sat on the corner of her desk and forced a smile. I was the king of faking it. I could bullshit a bullshitter.

“So, are they taking bets on my imminent breakdown yet?”

She giggled and I noticed that her nose was kind of cute when it wrinkled up, and her smile caught my eye. “Not yet.”

“Well then, I guess I’ll just have to brood more.”

“Don’t do that. Less brooding, more fun.” She flipped her hair over her shoulder. Oh yeah, she was flirting now.

Two could play that game. “So it’s fun you want?”

“Fun is easier.”

Damn, she was cute. It surprised me that I’d never really taken notice of her before. Work had really been taking precedent of late…

What the fuck?

Hold the phone.

Work does not take precedent.

Ever.

Time to change that bullshit.

“I can show you fun.”

It was rare that I misread situations such as these so I took a chance and reached out and pushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear. She blushed. Well, to be more accurate, she turned every shade of red known to man and I swear that I could smell her arousal.

She nervously looked around the office. No one was looking our way, thank God, and she felt comfortable proceeding with our shameless flirtation.

“I’d like that,” she said, more than a hint of a purr to her voice.

I could have waited. No, I
should
have waited. It wasn’t like the opportunity was going to pass me by. Nope, that girl would have waited years to have her shot with me. Hell, she already had. Keeping track of staff wasn’t something I excelled at but she must have been my secretary for at least two years. Leaving her alone would have been the smart thing to do, but instead I winked and grabbed her by the hand, leading her through the door to my office.

Once we were both over the threshold, I kicked the door shut behind us. She nervously giggled and pressed her back up against the frame. “This wasn’t exactly what I had in mind,” she said breathlessly.

I loosened my tie from my neck as leaned in toward her, placing my palms flat against the door, either side of her head. The air around us was thick with anticipation and when I looked down at her, staring up at me through thick lashes, crazy desire burned through me. It was stupid, but surely by now it was obvious that I had a tendency to be stupid as fuck and make poor choices—especially when I was mad. Waiting for something to happen with Jenny had me wound up, coiled like a spring, and I needed to relieve the tension somehow.

“I don’t give a fuck what you had in mind,” I growled at her, pulling the blinds to my office closed. Confident that we’d go undetected, I lightly grazed her side with my hand and her breath hitched. With every touch her eyelids dropped lower, her head fell backward, and her breath left her body in pants.

Told you. Master of my craft.

Her head snapped up when I stopped and reached over, locking the door. The sound of the lock clicking into place was loud in the otherwise quiet room, and it added an edge to the atmosphere. If Jenny had taught me anything in our time together, it was that the fear of being caught always heightened the experience.

“Please. Mr. Ziviani…” she pleaded, her face contorted in a combination of fear and excitement.

My fingers dug into her hips as I proceeded to grind myself against her. Although we were fully clothed, she knew just where this was going and despite her slight hesitation, her eyes made it clear she was just as turned on as I was. Hearing the small moan that left her mouth had my blood racing. I was beyond pumped. Used to regular lays, I hadn’t had anyone since Jenny, and my need was damn near painful.

“If you want this, then don’t call me that again,” I growled. She tensed and I licked the shell of her ear. There was no sense frightening her. That wasn’t the kind of guy I was. A bastard, sure. But all the women I took wanted it. “Mr. Ziviani is my dad.”

“I’m sorry. I’m just so nervous. You see, I’ve had a thing for you since I started working for you two years ago…”

What do you know, I was right.

“Shhh…”

I ran my free hand down her shoulders and brushed her breast before settling on her hip. She finally responded, wrapping her arms around my neck and letting out a deep breath. It was wrong on so many levels, but I closed my eyes and imagined it was
her
there, pressed up against my office door, one hundred and ten percent ready to give herself to me.

But it wasn’t.

I opened my eyes and put a hand behind Layla’s neck, my thumb grazing her cheek while I looked into her totally hot, albeit innocent, eyes.

“I’m going to be totally up front with you, Layla, something I don’t do often, so take it as a compliment. I’m going to tell you right now, sweetheart, this will be all you’ll ever get from me. I’m sex. Fuckin’ incredible sex to boot. I don’t do relationships, ever, so don’t get your hopes up. I’ll need you, that’s for sure, but on
my
terms. So whaddaya say? I’ve got a void that needs filling and I think that you could be just the thing I need.”

For a second I though I’d gone too far. Jesus, honesty sucked. A silence that lasted a second or two beyond comfortable passed between us, as she continued to stare up at me, her lips pressed into a hard line. I couldn’t tell if she was pissed, or thinking, but she was definitely shocked. That much was apparent.

I was just about to attempt a severe backpedaling, belatedly fearing a sexual harassment lawsuit, when a slow smile spread across her face.

“I can do that.”

“Thank fuckin’ God,” I managed to groan before crashing my lips onto her neck. The response was immediate and she untucked my shirt, sliding her hands across my abs. Using my hips to push her harder against the door, I was shocked when she lifted a leg up, wrapping it around my back, and I seized the opportunity to snake my hand down between her legs. The fabric was wet against my fingers, and I grinned.

“I’m ready,” she purred.

“You don’t have to tell me twice.”

With skill that only came from practice—ahh, bite me—I pushed her panties aside and slipped three fingers into her. She gasped, obviously slightly taken aback, but I didn’t give a fuck. Layla was going to be my new drug.

Fuck Jenny.

Having spent a few minutes straightening her skirt—which was the right side of nearly too short, if you asked me—Layla sashayed out of my office just as my boss walked in. Part of the thrill was knowing people could walk in at any second, but even I hated to admit being a little uncomfortable with how close we’d come to being caught. But we hadn’t been and I took a little solace from that.

“Ziviani.” He reached out to shake my hand.

In the most subtle way I could manage, I checked my zipper before standing and throwing my hand into his. Feeling his strong grip, I grinned, knowing that said hand was covered in Layla. I had reached an all-time low.
Way to go, Rob
.

“Gregory.” I returned his pleasantry even though I wanted to tell him to shove it. Why? I wasn’t really sure of that myself.

He held up a manila envelope with my name on it. “A messenger just dropped these by.”

I didn’t have to look to know what was in that envelope.

“Didn’t know you were married, Ziv?”

“Yeah, I kind of forgot about it too, until recently. It was one of those ‘young, dumb, and full of come’ mistakes.”

Gregory looked at me sympathetically and nodded. “Well, I know some great divorce lawyers. Let me know if you need any names.” He turned on his heel and left me to my own personal hell.

“Thanks,” I managed to mutter before falling back into my seat and taking out the papers. Sure enough, Jenny was taking my ass to court.

Knowing that Jenny was for real and that she wasn’t going to leave it alone made me anxious and unsure of myself. The anger started building inside me and I knew of one surefire way to ease my anxiety. Leaning across my desk, I picked up the phone and pressed a button.

“Yes?”

“Yeah, Layla? I’m gonna need you to get your ass back in here. I’m not done with you yet.”

Somewhere, somehow, I established a new nightly routine, and yes, that nightly routine absolutely involved Layla. She’d become like a drug to me, the replacement to my self-destructive behavior. Being with her numbed the pain, helping me forget all the bad shit and heartache through meaningless sex. And to top it all off, she was damn good at it.

I pushed her into the wall, my mouth separating from her sweat-laden skin for a brief moment. The breath escaped from her lungs with a
woosh!
and she stopped dead in her tracks before shooting me the cutest sly grin. Just as she knew it would, my body responded and my mouth crashed on her collarbone. Grazing my lips against the soft skin of her neck, my hands ran up her legs and snaked underneath her skirt, but before I could get my fingers where I wanted them to be she grabbed my hand and stopped me from moving any further.

“What the fuck, Layla?” I groaned.

She pulled away to rest her forehead on mine.