Pretty Bitches (2 page)

A half hour later and two verbal assaults at tourists we pulled in front of Pressed. It one of my favorite fixes—a martini bar with hot men serving you endless spirits. We made our way to our reserved table and were quickly greeted with our signature drinks. We come here enough that they actually named a drink after us.

The Pretty Bitch Blush.

It had a nice ring and packed a solid punch in the gut.

After our third round I saw the blinding show of teeth as Lila spotted her fresh meat across the room. I followed her gaze and landed upon one fine specimen. He was at least as tall as me, maybe 6’1 and had a head full of thick black shiny hair, which was sculpted into a mass of waves and slicked back. He was a good twenty feet away and I could still see the ice blue eyes that were staring daggers at Lila. He stalked across the room and just about every woman in the place straightened up and batted eyelashes.

He came to a graceful stop at the corner of the booth and reached for her hand lifting her from the seat and planting a painful looking kiss to her bee-stung lips.

Well, collagen filled lips.

She straightened her jacket and licked her lips.

Classy, Lila.

“Emberly Landon, meet Anthony Broward.” She was looking at him like she was eye fucking him right there at the bar.

He tugged a grin to his lips. “Well, it is certainly my pleasure, Emberly.” He reached for my hand and I suddenly wanted to cut off the appendage. Something about him made my skin crawl.

He slid into the booth next to her and basically rested his hand on her tits. The next hour drug so slowly I was out of cracks to count on the ceiling. Thankfully a colleague pulled Anthony away and I was left with a heat filled Lila probing me with her eyes.

“So, is he fucking hot or what?” She sighed.

I lifted my shoulders and let them fall. “Or what.”

She seemed honestly miffed by my dismissal. But honestly, he was as slimy as they come and the fact that she couldn’t see it made me question her sanity.

“Seriously? Are you really trying to tell me that he is Governor’s Ball material? What the fuck Lila, he’s a pig and a really cheesy one at that.”

She was contrite. “You’re just pissed he’s fucking me and not you.” She crossed her arms over her extremely large cosmetic breasts and huffed.

“Yeah, I’m real jealous Lil. It’s just seeping from my bones.” I slurped the rest of my drink and grabbed my clutch. “I’m out, have fun slumming it tonight.”

She shot me an eat shit look and I blew her a kiss as I slid from the booth.

I nodded to a few tables and sent several one finger waves at my fellow sharks and drifted out the door. The air had a bite to it and it was May. Usually very mild and inviting but this just made your nipples hard and stick out like candy to the passer-bys.

Elliott grabbed my door and steadied my wobbly arm into the seat. Those drinks are good but damn they go straight to your head. As we crept through the city the more annoyed I became at how my evening was turning into a lame couch night.

“Hey, park it near Nunia’s.” I shrilled.

He eyed me from the rearview but complied.

Within thirty minutes I was entering the swaying club. Not really my scene at all, but drastic times call for drastic measures.

The bitch I absolutely hate the most greeted me at the door. Thank God I have exclusive access at every bar in town, otherwise I’d be out in the cold.

The typical scene play out in front of me. Trashy heiresses coking it up in the corners while the Wall Street tycoons boozed it and eye fucked anything with tits and a trust fund. I sighed to myself, why did I think this would be a good idea?

I made my way through the crowd acknowledging several catcalls and nods in my direction. I walked directly to the marble bar. Another bitch I can’t stand was working the bar tonight and she had narrowed eyes taking me in. I could practically hear the mental lashing she was giving me, and that brought a huge smile to my lips. Just for her.

“Glenlivet neat.” I purred.

She sneered and as she turned for the glass I added, “Oh, and make sure your nasty fingers don’t touch the rim where my lips touch. I don’t need a bout of herpes.”

If I thought she was pissed before she was downright murderous now and I couldn’t have been more entertained.

I watched her like a hawk as she poured making sure she didn’t spill a little arsenic for flavor. She slid it roughly to my hand and sloshed a nice amount on my fingertips.

I just winked and toasted.

Finally I turned my gaze around the room. It was the same old faces just varying degrees of slime. I sipped my amber liquid and studied the scene. I noticed Walter McDaniel giving me the eye from the table adjacent to Brett Stokes whom was equally burning holes through my clothing with his stare. I considered them both remembering the night with each of them. Brett had come within five minutes, which is the biggest cardinal sin in casual sex world and Walter had a hook for a dick. I just rolled my eyes in each direction and turned my attention to something that may be worth a shit to entertain.

I wasn’t here for sex. I’d had my fill of that for a while I was just here for a little distraction. Work was weighing on me this week and I needed to get my approval on several major pieces in next month’s edition before I hauled my ass across the globe to a major photo shoot in Anchorage.

I was in mid drink when a bassy voice murmured in my ear. “When were you in Scotland?” I turned my attention to the familiar Scottish accent and immediately warmed from head to toe. He had hair the color of chestnuts and blue artic eyes that practically pierced through my head. I rolled over his features and I couldn’t have been more thrilled. Even with the tailored suit I could see the outline of his ridiculously chiseled chest. I made my way back up his frame and realized that I was actually looking up into his eyes, which rarely happens. He slipped one hand into his trousers and smiled as he took a sip and prompted me with his eyes.

I suddenly realized I had not answered his question and I was inching closer to a full minute of ogling at that point. His eyes danced across the features of my face as he added, “I ask that because only someone with Scottish experience would appreciate that drink in your hand.”

His voice was otherworldly. I was having internal tremors just hearing it ring in my ears. I finally found my voice and scrambled a few thoughts.

“I spent a summer there several years ago. I briefly considered moving there but I love my job too much.”

I was actually kicking myself. That didn’t even sound like me. I’d never been at a loss for words, or anything else for that matter and this man had me practically eating from his hands.

He’s just a guy, like all the rest, Em. Calm your shit. I took a deep breath and pulled myself up higher as I broke his gaze and returned to scanning the room. Truthfully, I had to look away because I was in serious danger of whimpering and sucking my thumb.

He made me want to submit and that was nothing I’d done or planned to do in my life. I call the shots. I play the game, not the other way around. The more I thought about it the more angsty I became. Who the fuck did he think he was? No one tips the scales especially when I’m on them.

My blank expression became a scowl and I didn’t miss the fact that he was highly entertained by my obvious uneasiness.

I’d had enough. “As fun as this has been why don’t you keep moving down the line. I’ve had a long day and I’m not really in the mood for a Scottish stud at the moment.”

His smile became a wicked grin and he watched me through hooded eyes. After several minutes of staring one another down I hissed through my teeth and slammed the glass on the marble bar watching a crack slide up the side. I gave him one more glare before I shoved my way through the sea of bodies and threw open the door. The cold air blasted my face and helped to fade the irritation that burned up my spine.

I’d never come unglued that way and it had me seriously vexed. I gruffed an even surlier attitude toward Elliott who was fighting back a smile as he took in my face.

“Fuck off, Elliott.” I muttered as I slid into the back and he closed the door.

He lowered the window. “Where to next Madame?”

I flipped him a bird. “Home, then fuck off.”

He smiled wider and raised the glass as he pulled into traffic. My mood became even bitterer during the thirty-minute drive. When we pulled in front of the house I could barely wait for the car to stop before I was pulling on the handle.

Marriett was holding the door open as I rounded the first step. I huffed past her and slung my jacket and purse across the marble table in the foyer. I fisted my hands at my sides as I strolled through the massive hallway leading to the main living area.

I stopped at the bar and absently poured my-self another Glenlivet. As soon as the liquid touched my tongue I was instantly reminded of the prick at the bar. I scowled again and threw the drink into the sink. Turning on my stiletto heel I hissed as I made my way through the quiet house and stomped up the staircase.

Even when I was soaking in my enormous tub I realized my anger was just bubbling under my skin. What in holy fuck was wrong with me? I rarely get this angry and when I do someone loses his or her job or any semblance of a career. I rubbed my temples and took several deep breaths. I would not let anyone have this type of control over me. I pushed the memories from my mind and focused on a few new ideas as I swiped through my tablet.

After an hour I was back in control. I’d made several notes and sent a few emails detailing my instructions for our winter collection special focusing on up and coming whose who in the Manhattan scene. I looked at my watch and realized it was still early—ten thirty—but I was exhausted. I toweled off, lotioned up and grabbed my silk gown as I shut the light.

Nothing was on television so I thumbed the power button and rolled to my side. Sleep came easy and before I knew it my alarm was buzzing and I was already late.

Holy shit!

I’d slept through an hour of buzzing. I jumped from the bed and ran for the closet. Grabbing a Pucci wrap dress as I stuffed my feet into my crocodile pumps and ran for the mirror. I didn’t have time to mess with my uber long locks today so I twisted the light red strands into a messy bun atop my head and dusted my cheeks with blush. Mascara was a must before I finished with an electric shade of red on my lips.

Elliott was waiting with a residual smile, I assumed from the previous evening.

Asshole.

The ride to work was typical and I shattered the glass with a string of profanities directed toward anyone meeting my gaze. I was still in such a state when we arrived I even met Ed with an anger induced greeting.

Judging by the way the waters parted when I entered the building, everyone saw my “fuck with me today” face and decided to check the floor for cracks as they passed by me.

I ignored Melanie’s attempt at greeting me and starting on my first event on the calendar. My door slammed underneath my firm hand and the frosted glass on either side rattled in protest.

Once I was in my chair I opened my laptop and pressed the intercom.

“Bring me a coffee and hold every fucking call until I breathe back into this intercom.”

I started on the notes from last night regarding the winter collection feature. I applied my new ideas to the mock up page and called for Ashley in advertising for a pick up. By noon I’d knocked out several projects and was making serious headway on the upcoming Anchorage shoot.

Finally I was able to breathe and sip my cold ass coffee that I had abandoned during my frenzied work.

At three o’clock I alerted Melanie that she could now divert carefully screened calls to my desk. No one with an accent or previous knowledge of the color walls in my bedroom was allowed.