His for Now (His #2) (2 page)

I’d wallow in self-pity today, I decided, but then tomorrow…tomorrow it would be back to business as usual.  I’d force myself, through sheer willpower if necessary, to redirect my attention to salvaging my career. 
Oh God, it felt like everything was falling apart.

I didn’t know if I’d be able to forget about Hayden.  He wasn’t exactly the forgettable type
with his charm, good looks and mystery.  But after he’d wormed his way into my heart only to unexpectedly spew vitriol at me in my own home, I’d be damned if I was going to let him take anything else from me. 

Not when he didn’t even care about me.

“Daniella James, you are better than this,” I whispered to myself furiously.  It was three weeks since I’d last seen Hayden Slate…three weeks since he’d stunned me with his cruelty before walking out on me.  I wasn’t going to be one of those girls who fell to pieces over a guy.  I refused, plain and simple.

The only problem was my brain didn’t seem to be communicating well with the rest of me.  Though I tried to tell myself to forget about Hayden, I wasn’t exactly successful.  As time went on I was thinking about him less, but I still thought of him often
…too often.  When I did, I waffled somewhere between rage and humiliation.   I was furious with him for treating me like his own personal doormat and even angrier at myself for falling for his charm. 

Caught up in a whirlwind
of passion, I’d given him my virginity.  At the time it had seemed like a good idea and not just because he was mind-numbingly sexy and right there in front of me, eager and willing.  I’d also thought I’d sensed something in him…a kindness that made me feel safe with him.  I’d thought that as far as my first time went, he was as good a guy as any to lose it to.  Correction:  he was the best choice I could imagine…certainly better than Mark, my video game obsessed, nerdy slacker of an ex.

So there I was, due on campus to teach a class but
instead sitting at home on the floor with my phone in my hand.  I was all ready to go, dressed in my standard uniform of a sensible, structured blouse and modest knee-length skirt.  I looked like the put-together professional I so desperately wanted to be – fake it until you make it, right?

For the past twelve minutes and forty-three seconds, I’d been staring at my phone and thinking about calling in sick.  It would be a shitty thing to do, especially since 1) it was a lie and 2) it was too late to arrange for a substitute to teach my class.  But staying h
ome was sure a tempting thought; almost as tempting as Hayden’s lips had been before he’d inexplicably morphed into the world’s biggest asshole.

With a groan, I hoisted myself up off the floor, grabbed my oversized handbag that doubled as a briefcase and
dutifully trudged out the front door of my modest one bedroom house.

Today, I decided, was a day for anger rather than humiliation.  That was good.  I could work with anger.  Actually, spending my time spitting fire over Hayden was pretty productive.  It gave me a much-needed burst of energy and these days I needed all the energy I could get.  My job was on the line.

Mark, my spiteful ex, had gone out of his way to sabotage me after I’d broken up with him.  He wanted the same promotion I was after and everyone in the department knew I was the hardest worker around.  So he’d lied to our bosses, telling them I was an ineffective, unorganized instructor who lacked knowledge of the basic concepts I was expected to teach in my introductory first year Sociology classes.  It was bullshit.

I’d found the email he’d sent to our boss
in Mark’s email.  When I’d seen it, I’d been blind with rage.  I’d been prepared to march right into Clancy Thomas’s office to plead my case.  He was the head of the department so he was supposed to care about things like this…but as I stood outside his door, I realized something:  he didn’t give a shit about me.

Mark and Clancy were poker buddies.  I had a feeling Clancy would turn a blind eye to Mark’s transgressions.  It didn’t help that the head of the department wasn’t my biggest fan.  I’d never been able to figure out why.  Maybe it was because all those extra hours I put in made all the other faculty members – including him – look bad.  Whatever, it didn’t matter.  All that mattered was he was a self-serving, hateful little man I didn’t trust.

No wonder he and Mark were buddies.

I knew if I wanted to save my job, I’d have to make a compelling case for myself.  So I’d decided to bide my time and try to dig up some dirt on Mark.  Blackmail wasn’t high on my list of favorite pastimes, but I wasn’t about to go down without a fight.  I’d worked too hard for too long to let that happen.

“Shit!” I muttered as I climbed into my car and immediately noticed a run in my pantyhose.  I had no idea how that always managed to happen at the most inopportune times, but it did.  I glanced at the clock on the dashboard and it confirmed what I’d feared:  I had no time whatsoever to go inside to change. 

One of these days I’d learn to keep a spare pair
of pantyhose in my glove compartment.  Maybe…  For a smart woman, I could be awfully dumb when it came to fashion.  I preferred to think it was because I had more important things to concentrate on rather than just accepting that keeping up with manicures and makeup trends wasn’t exactly my strong point.

When I pulled into my parking stall on campus, I hopped out of my car and, with a quick look over my shoulder, yanked my pantyhose off.  Hopping around on one foot, I nearly ended up doing a face plant right there on the asphalt, but I managed to catch myself at the last minute. 

That was good.  I didn’t have time to pick gravel out of my hair.  I was going to be late to teach my class as it was!  It wasn’t exactly the kind of impression I wanted to make when my job performance was already under scrutiny.  I couldn’t afford to make any missteps right now.

Class was a blur.  So were my office hours.  I did a little research
and marked some students’ papers but mostly spent my time straining to listen for Mark’s voice in the hallway.  Working with one’s ex isn’t exactly a pleasant thing – and mine was trying to ruin my career.  I didn’t want to see him.  If I did I might not be able to resist the urge to wipe the permanent condescending smirk off his face with my fist.

When it started getting dark outside, I decided it was time to go. 
My time spent with Hayden had taught me there was more to life than work, and even though he was very much out of my life, I was still making an effort to leave at a reasonable hour for the sake of my sanity. 

But when I got off the elevator on the first floor, I was surprised to find an event of some sort already in full progress.
  “Shit,” I muttered to myself when I took in the scene before me and realized what was going on.  “The department fundraiser is
tonight
?” 

It just figured that a swanky wine and cheese event I was expected to attend was on the day when I’d put a gigantic run in my pantyhose, rendering them unwearable.  To make matters worse, I couldn’t even remember when I’d last shaved my legs.  Nice.

I wanted to go home, but I was sure if I did Mark would find a way to bring it to our superiors’ attention.  What an asshole.  If he’d just put half as much effort into his own career as he did ruining mine or playing video games…well…

Ugh, Mark.
  I realized with a start that he’d surely be in the vicinity.  I scanned the room and located him on the far left side.  That meant I’d be staying on the right side, as far away from him as possible. 

Thankfully, my side of the room happened to be where the food was.  Maybe my luck wasn’t quite as atrocious as I’d initially thought.
  I wasn’t one of those women who refused to eat in public.  Instead, I was one of those women who cram delicious hors d’oeuvres down their throats at every opportunity, because why not?  Free food was one of the only things that made tedious networking functions bearable, as far as I was concerned.

With
a forced smile on my face, I made my way over to the wine and cheese table.  My hope was to just hang out there for a bit – with my bare, slightly stubbly legs hidden from sight behind the white linen tablecloth.  I’d shake a few hands, gush over the stinky cheese selection, pretend to be interested in other people’s boring stories and then make a hasty exit.  Maybe I’d also down a few glasses of wine just for good measure.

“I wondered if I’d see you here.”

I turned around and stared blankly at an older gentleman wearing an expensive silk tie.  I racked my brain trying to place him – was he a colleague?  I didn’t think so, but he did look vaguely familiar, in a generic old man sort of way. 

He extended his hand.  “Steve Martel,” he
re-introduced himself, maybe sensing that I didn’t immediately recognize him.  “We met at the party Henrik Slate threw out at the Whittaker mansion a few weeks back.”

Ah, so that’s where I knew him from.  “Nice to see you again,” I
replied automatically.  I remembered the way Steve had talked my ear off at that party, a friendly, pleasant older man who’d been every bit as content as me to loiter at the food table.  I vaguely recalled that he was a colleague of Hayden’s father, working overseas to set up art galleries and museums.

I also remembered the kinky sex games Hayden and I had played right beneath the noses of his father and all the other rich partygoers. 
I still couldn’t believe the things he’d talked me into doing…or how much I’d enjoyed doing them. 

That night
had been a hot, steamy memory until Hayden had shown his true colors.  Now it was yet another painful reminder of my poor judgment.  I never should have let myself trust Hayden Slate, who clearly thought only about himself. The last thing I wanted was to think about him – I was doing too much of that already.  But with Steve Martel standing in front of me oblivious and chatty, there was little I could do.

“That was quite the party!” he chortled as he popped a chunk of cheese that smelled like a dirty foot into his mouth.  “Mmm, you should try it,” he said, picking up the entire platter of the foul stuff and holding it out to me in offering.

Barely managing to suppress my gag reflex, I managed to mumble, “I’m good, thanks.” 

“Hayden certainly appeared to be taken with you,” Steve observed, giving me a
knowing smile.  “Everyone was commenting on it.  He’s not one to bring women to his father’s functions…in fact in all the years I’ve known the boy, I think you may have been the first girl he’s brought around.  It seems you’ve really stolen his heart,” he said with a wink.

“I uh…I don’t know about that.”

“I’ve known that boy most of his life and I’ve never seen him look so happy,” Steve insisted.  “He must really think you’re something special.”

Steve wasn’t a bad pe
rson.  He was simply a clueless man who seemed to have more fatherly affection for Hayden than Hayden’s own dad did.  Under different circumstances, I may have enjoyed chatting with him – at least it was less tiresome than listening to a bunch of snooty professors try to outdo one another as they debated politics.  But I simply couldn’t stand there and listen to Steve talk about Hayden Slate for a moment longer.  It was like having salt rubbed in a very raw, very deep wound.

“I, uh…I’m sorry,” I sputtered, backing away from the table hairy legs and all.  “I have to go.”

Pushing my way past a group of pretentious colleagues who were obnoxiously laughing at some inane joke, I made my way outside.  Leaning against the rough stone exterior of the building, I inhaled the cool evening air greedily. 

I didn’t understand why Hayden had taken me to his father’s party.  Steve had pretty much confirmed what Hayden had told me: 
it was unheard of for Hayden to do such a thing.  Hayden was a love them and leave them type, or at least a fuck them and leave them type.  So why had he made an exception for me? 

Somehow that hurt more than waking up in the morning to an empty bed would have.  Why had he continued to string me along even after we’d slept together?
  Why had he forged an intimate, emotional connection with me?

Part of me wanted to believe he was just a terrible human being who delighted in plunging figurative knives into women’s hearts.  That, I could accept.  But what had been eating away at me was the feeling I’d had when I was with him. 

We hadn’t just had sex.  We’d talked.  He’d listened attentively and seemed interested in my answers to his questions.  After some gentle prying, he’d even opened up to me a little.  I’d come to believe that despite his faults, he was a genuinely good person. 

It just didn’t fit.  A good person wouldn’t have spoken to me the way Hayden had, or played with my
feelings so heartlessly.  By that logic, Hayden did not fit the definition of a good person.  So that meant…what?  Was my judgement truly that bad?  Or was there more to what had happened than met the eye? Angrily, I cast those questions aside.  They were, after all, questions I had no way of knowing the answers to.  I didn’t want to devote another second to thinking about Hayden Slate.

Suddenly I became all too aware that my feet were killing me.  Most of my shoes were sensible, boring ones that one might expect an eighty year old lady to wear to church on Sunday.  But on a whim, I’d bought a couple pairs that were feminine, stylish and sexy.  Lately I’d taken to wearing what I liked to think of as my Fuck Me Shoes not because I was looking to get lai
d but because they gave me a confidence boost I desperately needed.