Quod Me Nutrit Me Destruit: That Which Destroys Me with The Alternate Ending (7 page)

I can’t fucking read any more.

Sam Smith, he was one of my buddies. I fucking hung out with him that summer. That was the summer before I went to LSU.

Oh my fucking GOD!

Memories, all of them, begin flashing through my mind.

Her at the lake fishing with us.

Her tagging along to baseball games, parties — Parties. I was… MOTHER FUCK! I scan back over the date and re-read the medical notes.

I was at that party. I manned the keg at that party.

Jesus Christ! I remember wondering why Sam brought his kid sister.

I lean back into my chair and let my eyes reread the file until almost three in the morning.

I want to know who the fuck did this shit to Stella. Every single motherfucker that laid a finger on her, I want their blood soaking my hands.

I’m fucking proud as shit of my little fighter, dammit. There is no reason for her to be the beautiful person she is today, inside and out. Not one fucking reason.

A Masters from Columbia?
What the hell—Who does that? Who goes from where she was to where she is? And I know without a shadow of doubt that her childhood is what prevented her from getting into those other programs.

And I’m fucking glad, too. Now that I have my answers, I’m fully prepared to seize the fuck out of this opportunity I’ve been bestowed.

I may have to woo her, charm her, and fucking fight her the whole damn way.

But Stella Reese will be mine.
In every goddamn way possible.

Fucking Questions

“Trina?” I ask on my way in the kitchen, “Don’t fucking lie, and keep your eyes on mine so I can tell whether you are or not. Does this outfit in any way say sexy, fuck me, I’m weak, or ‘here just run me over’?”

She blinks at me.

“Well?” I grab my on-the-go coffee cup and take a sip of the piping hot heaven. I look over the bar at Trina… Yep, she’s still fucking blinking at me. “Say it, bitch.”

After she clears her throat she says, “You look like a professional, no-nonsense, confident, and highly capable sexy beast—That gives good head!” She falls into a laughing fit and I roll my eyes at her on my way toward the door.

“Wish me luck. I’ll grab some wine for us on my way home, sis. Love you!” I call out before leaving.

By the time I get to Jacobs Publishing on Madison Avenue, I am a nervous wreck! I wish I could calm down and stop fidgeting. I brush my hands down my black pencil skirt for the seventh time and straighten the matching jacket. I’m in the middle of tightening my ponytail when the elevator doors open.

Head high, bitch. You own it and you know it, now show it. You’ve gotten this far all on your own. And after today, you only have three hundred and sixty four more days to go.

I waltz in the offices of JPH exactly like I did the last time I was here. BOSS. BITCH.

I smile at the pretty receptionist and watch as she turns from pretty to an ugly skank right before my eyes. “Hi Rachel. Is Wesley in his office?”

Skank sneers and in a saccharine voice replies, “Don’t you mean Mr. Jacobs?” My smile never wavers as the words ‘Fuck you bitch, don’t let me catch you in an alley’ flit through my mind.

“He said to call him Wesley.” I head towards the double doors of his office.

“It’s a quarter to seven, he isn’t expecting you, Ms. Reese.”

I call out over my shoulder still smiling, “Yes he is, Rachel. Don’t play dumb, it doesn’t look good on you.”

My palms meet the smooth dark mahogany of the doors before opening them.

Wes looks up from a file in front of him and snaps it closed, quickly putting it away. “Ms. Reese, you look absolutely stunning this morning. And your promptness…” His eyes glance at his watch, when they settle back on mine, they’re smiling. “…I appreciate it immensely.” The smile that slides onto his face makes my knees weak and I blush as the thoughts of what occurred between us the other night crowd my mind.

“Well, I should easily be able to keep you pleased then. If there is one thing I am, it’s prompt.”

My skin breaks out in chill bumps from his deep chuckle. But it’s my hardening nipples that embarrass the fuck out of me. I know if he looks, he’ll not only notice, he’ll comment too. I’m in the middle of praying he keeps his eyes on mine when he replies in a deep sex laden voice, “Stella, you already know exactly what I want, what gives me pleasure. And you and I both know that you have never been just one thing, not once in your whole goddamn life.”

Shit! I’m instantly bombarded with Friday’s little parting disclosure I so gallantly delivered before storming out of his house.

“Yeah, umm…about what I said Friday; please don’t give it any thought or, better yet, just don’t even remember it. It kind of just fell out before I could find my filter. I was pissed, and honestly, a hot mess after we… after you, well you know.” My face is begging him not bring it up.

“Completely understandable. And I haven’t thought of it once, until you mentioned it.” He smiles again before nodding to the chair in front of his massive desk. “Have a seat, we’ll be going over our schedule for today with Rachel in a moment.”

Oh. Yay! Fan-fucking-tastic! Just the mention of Rachel causes me to have to stifle a gag.

“Perfect.” I say cheerfully attempting to make myself comfortable for this wonderful upcoming torture session.

“If I may, I would like to apologize for the way I acted as well. In all honesty, it has been – shit, I can’t even say it’s been a long time. I can’t remember a single time when I’ve wanted something as badly as I want you. However, I’m sure that is neither here nor there.”

His dark green eyes pierce
mine and a flutter of butterflies spring to life in my gut. But it’s his next words that just down right fuck my mind up. “Unless…You would be willing to go to dinner with me next Saturday. Just dinner.”

“Just dinner?” He nods.

Of course the bitch decides on this moment to interrupt us.

Rachel comes into the office and hands the schedule to Wes. “Here you go, Wes.” She remains standing directly beside
him, her eyes scan the paper in her hand. “Okay, we’ll start at nine with that unknown author that wanted to meet with you, after that we have a meeting with the—“

Wes holds his hand up before saying, “Rachel, stop. Before you continue yapping on about shit I can clearly read, go and get Ms. Reese a copy of the schedule. She and I will go over it. You just answer the phone. I would say that I find this change in your behavior amusing if the reason behind it weren’t so obvious.”

Wow. Bitch you just got served.

I have to bite my tongue until the taste of metal fills my mouth to keep the smile from my face. My professional bitch look does not waver. Thank God.

“But, Wes. We always go over the schedule in the morning. And I don’t under—“

“Rachel, I have an intern directly under me that needs to learn every single minute detail of JPH. I can’t do that with you in my way parading around like you’re the damn VP. I need you to do what I hired and pay you to do. Be a secretary. Besides, three’s a crowd and I will not have Ms. Reese or her education get lost in the shuffle. She is my number one priority. Understood?”

She storms out of the office muttering a “Yes, sir.” under her breath.

After the door closes behind her, the words fall from my mouth. “Well. You certainly pissed her off.”

“Fuck her.” He smirks. “Dinner, Stella. We were talking about dinner.”

“
Ahh… Sure. It’s just dinner. I like to eat. Sounds good.”

His laugh is so sexy and so damn sinister all at the same
time, I almost fall in love with this motherfucker—Again.

“Right. Just dinner. You keep telling yourself that.”

My first week seems to fly by. I’ve always been a quick learner, and since reading and writing has been my obsession for as long as I can remember, it’s extremely easy for me to throw myself into every aspect of Jacobs Publishing House.

I soak up every single detail of what Wesley says while teaching
me, every piece of information he hands me is a pearl of wisdom that I cherish. I absolutely revel in his compliments and the verbal praise of my adaptability and eagerness to learn.

Regretfully, Rachel and my relationship
remains at a stalemate. I know… It breaks my heart to pieces too.

It’s Friday and Wes and I are the only two souls left in the entire building. It’s nearing nine o’clock at night but I don’t mind. I could listen to him talk about his authors and editors
; the marketing aspect of publishing— All of it. I could listen to him explaining it to me in his southern drawl that reminds me of pure milk chocolate mixed with bourbon. Don’t ask me why my mind uses that combination of tastes… You know damn good and well your mouth watered thinking about it.

Wes’ enthusiasm and love for what he’s done with his company is so evident, it practically radiates from the pores of his skin. He fucking inspires the hell out of me, and that’s saying something because I haven’t been inspired by anyone—Ever.

To say I’m confused about what is going on between us is putting it mildly. I can’t make myself go back to where I was mentally or emotionally before he touched me. I’ve never, EVER hungered for a man’s touch. I’ve never had a physical relationship with a man that I’ve found attractive.

And holy Christ, Wesley Jacobs is the sexiest fucking man I’ve ever seen. He’s
tall, we’re talking 6’4” at least. His dark hair is kept short and always appears as though fingers have been run through it during a good fuck session.

And his olive complexion against his stark hunter green eyes?
Shit. Throw a fucking dark gray Armani suit on top, pfft… I stand about as much of a chance as a snowball in the ninth circle of hell.

“After we’ve met with new authors for the last time and all the negotiations are agreed upon and the legal paperwork has been filed, we usually start by requesting their last manuscript or their work in progress. YOU, Ms. Stella Reese, are going to take Jude Preston’s MS when I receive it and you are going to make that bitch your baby. Tell me, what did you think about the author himself when we had our conference call with him?”

Through a yawn I answer, “I liked him, loved his ideas. For a guy that has practically sold his first two books on street corners and oversaturated the social media avenues available. Shit, what’s not to like? His drive alone excites me.”

Wes looks down at his watch, “Shit! Jesus,
Stell it’s past nine! I’m sorry! We didn’t even eat lunch! You want me to drive you home? We can stop by one of my favorite little Italian bistros on our way to your place.”

At his mention of food and home, exhaustion and I run into each other like a head on collision. “Yeah, sounds great.” I motion to Mr. Preston’s paperwork and his most recent manuscript. “Can I take these and get caught up on my new baby over the weekend?” I ask smirking up at him.

“Yeah, sure. Take whatever you need. I’m going to go grab my coat and shit from my office, then we’ll leave.”

We stop at a quaint little mom and pop Italian restaurant that holds maybe ten tables. The lighting is low and each table has a feel of seclusion or privacy from the surrounding grape vines climbing the walls and hanging from the ceiling.

Wes’ large hand on my lower back leads us to a table snuggled into a small nook off to the side of the restaurant. After he pulls my chair out and I’m seated, he grabs the chair on the other side of the table, bringing it side by side with mine—and that sneaky grin of his doesn’t once leave his face.

“Ms. Reese, you don’t mind do you?” He asks before sitting.

“I don’t.” The smile on my face is the reflection of my excitement.

But that excitement ebbs when I briefly wonder as I look up at him from under my lashes if things would be easier for me if I’d lived a normal life. If every piece of affection I’d received from the opposite sex wasn’t a direct warning of the impending pain and evil defilement I would, yet again, be forced to endure.

Wes rouses me from my thoughts when his hand brushes the hair from my face. “Hey, don’t do that, Stella. Do you hear me? You’re with me, you stay with me. I don’t want your thoughts or your attention on anyone else.” I try to just nod but that just spurs his voice to become more stern. “No, Stella, I want you to say it. Tell me that you understand.”

“I understand. But, Wesley, I don’t think you realize what type of woman you are dealing with.” His hand covers mine and the smile on his face is so sad it causes my heart to break. And in this moment I want so badly to be pure for him, normal for him. I’d give fucking anything to be unbroken.

Women like me, women that have been shattered as many times as I have, there are no pieces remaining. All that remains is only sand…

And, like sand, our presence is never anything more than the fleeting moment we slip through your fingers. For that is all we can ever really, truly be.