That Which Destroys Me (4 page)

“Shit!” I slam the door closed and turn the shower to scalding hot.

Bo and Eve are two of my best friends. Trina met Bo when he first moved to New York. They tried dating, but it never really went far. I absolutely adore him. He is the funniest, kindest man I know.

And Eve? Eve’s the oddest fucking NYC model you’ll ever meet. First of all, Eve is a complete and utter softy! No balls. At all. She is the most unsure, uncertain goddamn beauty queen I’ve ever met. However, she’s real as fuck and I dig that. Eve and Bo went on one date, that’s all it took. And they’ve never looked back.

Fucking beautiful thing, isn’t it? *Gags*

Trina, Bo, and Eve have been my family for the last four years. Quite honestly, I don’t know if I would have made it with my sanity intact without them.

However, even with them being my fam, I still just wanted to shower, drink three bottles of wine, and pass the fuck out.

Like I said; I’m tired. I’m defeated.

After I shower, I walk into the living room and I’m immediately bombarded by my ‘family’. Eve walks up to me with a goblet of Riesling in her outstretched hand and a smile that quickly turns into a frown. “Sorry, Stell.” She whispers.

“I’m okay.” I grab the wine glass and set it on the nearest surface before hugging her neck. When I lean back and see her sad teary eyes, it almost kills me. “Don’t look at me like that Eve. I said I’m good. ‘Kay, babe?” She nods, causing her tears to spill over onto her cheeks.

Shit, I need to get drunk—Fast.

“
HOLY FUCK
!!!” I pull my pillow over my face. When I smell Trina’s shampoo I realize I’m in her bed. I have not a clue how the fuck I made it to bed. I knew when I stood up to get another glass of wine last night and the room went sideways that I should’ve stopped.

I’m pretty sure I landed in Trina’s room because I couldn’t make it any further down the hall. It happens. *Shrugs* Even to the best of us.

I just roll until I kinda fall out of bed then walk bumping into walls and shit on my way to the bathroom.

After I’ve showered and swallowed
WAY
more Motrin than the bottle suggests, I walk into the kitchen to start the coffee maker before making a beeline to the living room and flop down onto the couch. I spot Bo and Eve on a pallet on the floor and I can’t help it, I laugh.

“What the hell’s so funny, Stell?” Bo asks from the floor.

“We’re too old for this shit. You know it?” I reply still giggling.

After the coffee maker stops brewing, I sigh before getting up and making my way back into the kitchen. “You and Eve want a cup o’ joe?”

“Nah, I want my damn bed. Any bed will do. This floor fucking sucks.”

“Go get in my bed, you dork. I didn’t even make it that far last night. Hey, where’s T at by the way?”

“Work.” He tries to wake Eve, but ends up having to carry her. “We’re going to lay down and try to sleep this hangover shit off. Oh, and before T left, she said you got a call.” He nods towards the sofa table. “Message is right over there.”

He and Eve disappear down the hallway.

I make my coffee – black, one Splenda. After taking a sip, an extremely grateful sigh crosses my grinning lips. “See? Shower and coffee; that’s all I needed to make this day go from shit to good.” I tell the room.

I grab my laptop and snatch the message from the sofa table before curling up on the couch.

Taking another sip of coffee my eyes scan the message:

“You have got to be kidding me! How?
FUCK
!” I crumble the message before tossing it in the trash and slamming my way into Trina’s bedroom headed straight for her closet. I dig out the oldest, ugly mu-mu dress and lay it on her bed. After grabbing my makeup and sitting in front of the mirror on the floor, I carefully apply my make-up. I pin my dark brown hair up into a sloppy, sexy bun and pluck the hair to create little wisps of hair around my face and at the nape of my neck.

Only after I’ve finished, I realize how much attention I spent to detail.
SHIT.
I will look utterly ridiculous if I try to rock this face and hair in a goddamn mu-mu.

“Fuck it. This is it, Stella. This is your last damn chance at an internship. Wear the damn fuck-me pumps and the skirt.”

Have I mentioned that I despise defeat?

When I walk into Jacobs Publishing building on Madison Ave., my head is high, my shoulders are back, and my heels click with purpose.

I smile at the man behind the security desk. Speaking quietly, I ask, “Hi. I’m Stella Reese. I have an appointment with Mr. Wesley Jacobs. Which floor is his office on?”

“Top floor, ma’am— the 70
^th
.” He smiles.

My hand pats the desk before I nod and head towards the elevators.

I’m lost in the thoughts waging a war inside my mind when the elevator doors open, physically shoving me from my thoughts. I jerk, straightening my spine before walking from the elevator.

“Well… Here goes nothing. Please GOD. Wesley Jacobs, don’t remember me.”

I enter the main headquarters of Jacobs Publishing House.

Hell no, I’m not nervous.

I’m scared out of my fucking mind!

Chapter 5

Who The Hell is She?

I ended up taking over the fucking list of Rachel’s as soon as I realized she was blatantly ignoring the four females on the list.

Yeah, bitch. I clocked your bullshit five minutes into our second convo over this intern bullshit.

I spent over an hour on the list. Which was about fifty-seven minutes longer than I’d needed to. Because I’d known in the first three minutes that Stella Jolie Reese—the girl with a Master’s in English from Columbia University that had been earned from a full scholarship and who’d also spent most of her life being bounced from foster home to foster home in every shit town scattered throughout Louisiana—That girl…was mine.

There was no two goddamn ways around it. Stella Reese. Would. Be. Mine. My fucking intern. Mine. I plan on taking this little thing and turning her into everything.

IF
she’s as badass in person as she is on paper.

And don’t worry… I’m fully prepared to be sorely let down.

“Mr. Wesley, your ten o’clock is here.”

I roll my eyes at Rachel’s snooty ass voice before telling her, “Send Ms. Stella Reese in, Rach.” I slam the phone down in its cradle before glancing at the clock to note her timeliness; then I shrug into my suit jacket and sit back down behind my desk.

I pick up my fountain pen and continue going over this quarter’s numbers. And yes, I’m only trying to appear busy, goddammit.

Her soft knock fucking pisses me off, causing me to shout, “Come in!”

Keeping my eyes down but training my mind on watching her in my peripheral, I witness as she opens not one but both double doors with both hands and walks in this mothafucking office like she owns the bitch.

Without invitation, she curtly waltzes to the chair in front of my desk before slowly sitting. Her legs cross and she leans over before placing a file on my desk and clearing her throat, “Mr. Jacobs, Hi. I’m Stella Reese. Thank you so much for this opportunity. It is… Well, it’s, ahh… I appreciate it.” She smiles brightly at me over my desk.

Now, at some point, I’ve set my pen down, steepled my fingers and began taking in little Ms. Reese from the top of her head to her waist—it’s all that’s visible from where I sit.

Narrowing my eyes on her hazel ones, I smirk above my linked fingers. Never unlocking her gaze, I explain, “Stella, you’re quite welcome for this
appreciated
opportunity. Now, I want you to realize that there were more than fifty people on Jacobs Publishing intern list. After my secretary had completed her research, you were not one of the final names—It’s in your good fortune that I don’t trust her, and even more that I’ve always followed my gut.”

I lean back into my chair and allow my eyes to run over her petite frame. She is a delicious 10+ at least! My fingertips slide her file towards me. When they’re close enough, I glance down before looking back up and locking eyes with her again.

“Quite frankly, you’re the only intern I plan on interviewing, Stella, with that being said, your being here for the interview tells me you want the internship that Jacobs is offering. Am I correct?”

Why are her eyes growing wider?

“No… I mean,” She shakes her head before clearing her throat, “Yes, sir. Jacobs has become my last resort. Without this internship I will be forced to forgo the intern division of the program.”

Soooo… After sir, all I heard was the ‘wa wa wa’ sound Charlie Brown’s parents make. Gibberish. Just a bunch of fucking gibberish coming from the softest, most fuckable lips I’ve ever laid my eyes on. I’m in the middle of making a solemn vow to myself, my thoughts and internal promises of fucking the goddamn hell out her mouth, when she interrupts. She fucking whistles.

Whistles!
I snap my attention from her mouth to pierce the hazel eyes that are constantly flashing from topaz to peridot. “Eyes up here chief. Got it?” She motions to them with her hand.

I grab the file I had Rachel put together and slam it in front of her, causing her to flinch. I pluck the pen from my desk and set it beside the file. Not once do my eyes leave hers. “Initial on the short lines. Sign on the long one, last page.” I smirk before nodding and settling back into my chair.

I know I can’t fuck little miss Reese. Well, I mean I can, but I won’t. I’m turning over a new leaf. I realize women like Stella and Rachel, and even that girl you met earlier… What the fuck was her name? Oh, Casey, right, anyway I’ve accepted that these women are comparable to putting a Band-Aid on a bullet wound. And I’m not sure why I’ve continued to attempt forcing myself into this mold that society has of how a relationship should be. Especially when you look at every other aspect of my life… I don’t fucking conform to shit. They try to tell me to stop bending the rules, I snap the fuckers in half.

So, for that reason, I will not fuck Ms. Stella Reese.

But Jesus fucking Christ—Do I want to.

Thankfully, I got in touch with Paul and have plans to visit Chained this weekend.

I can wait until then to get my cock wet—Don’t worry, I got this shit.

An exasperated sigh leaves Stella’s beautiful fucking lips as her head comes up from signing the paperwork. She slides the folder across the expanse of my desk, “Okay. All initialed and signed. Do you have a curriculum or a schedule for me? I didn’t see any mention of hours per week in the forms.”

The devils grin snakes its way onto my face. Leaning forward in my chair, I lower my voice to the lowest, devious tone I possess. “You’re fucking mine, Stella Reese. All. Mine. You will be at my heel Monday through Friday from seven am until six pm, you will be available and easily accessible to me twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. You will work directly under me, and me alone, for the next three hundred and sixty-five days, and when I’m finished with you, you will be nothing less than a five fucking star publicist. Is that understood?”