Love & Risks - A Rich Prick love story

Chapter 8 - Eden

One week later...

Of all the stupid things I've done in my life and believe me there had been a lot of stupid things some of which included getting my first tattoo at the age of sixteen, a small black and white tattoo of a narcissus flower on my left ankle without my parents' permission using a fake I.D. Or the time I'd snuck out of my bedroom window to go to a party that some seniors were throwing, only to get lost on the way there and ended up calling my father from a pay phone to come and pick me up in the middle of the night. I'd gotten grounded for an entire month over that one, yet nothing I'd done then could have compared to some of the stupid things I'd done recently.

I should have known better than to give Wes Connor a second look. Hell, I should have known better than to have pleasured myself, on more than one occasion to images of him. Why the hell couldn't I keep my hormones in check when it came to him was beyond me. I allowed myself the pleasure of him invading my conscious mind and gave into my weaknesses every night since I'd found his photos on Google. Not to mention holding onto some form of hope that one day he'd come to work and actually lift a damn finger, which he hadn't.

Once a spoiled rich Prick, always a spoiled rich Prick.

I stare out at the busy streets of New York City from my office window. Not even the sight of such a gorgeous view could tame the growing fury within me. I should have known better than to think he'd be anything more than what the newspapers and blogs pegged him out to be.

5th Avenues Playboy!

One popular social media blog that carried over 2.2 million followers wrote the caption above a picture of Wes just before he steps into a lavish town car.

New York's most eligible bachelor – with NO wedding bells in the near future.

One gossip magazine captioned after spotting Wes, surrounded by a small group of friends, as they all leave a popular strip club located in lower Manhattan.

Another epic night out for Wesley Connor Jr.

This had been under a photo of Wes with his arm draped around a cocktail waitress who wore a black, barely there fitted dress. Her breast was on full display and the hem of her dress was just low enough to hide her sex, but not low enough to notice that if she'd stood wrong the entire world would see what she had to offer. By the wide smiles on both their faces, and the closeness of their bodies, it was clear how that night ended.

Several more articles surface of Wes. Some describing more of his morally wrong decision making, while others were of him at charity events dressed in a tuxedo.

If only the man in the suit was just as classy as the suit itself.

I push the "What-if" theory from my brain just as the door to my office slowly opens. I don't have to turn around to know that it's him. I could almost feel my skin grow hotter and hotter as he steps closer towards me, invading my space.

"Is there something on your mind?" He asks. His voice is low and deliberate. His breath tickles the back of my neck sending a chill down my warm body. I'm glad that he can't see the slow blink of my eyes as I almost fall victim to his charismatic, egotistical ways much like the many women of New York City had.

Stupid girl.

Just moments ago, I made my way towards his office, something I'd done often since we'd first been paired together. Wes made no moves to visit me in my office, or even ask about the status of our project together, so it was I who made the effort to keep him in the loop on the status of my progress with the VitaMission project.

Each morning I would take a seat across from him and hand over duplicate copies of all the work I'd spent endless hours working on; pushing myself to include him in on where we stood, hoping he'd give me some feedback, or even give his opinion, but they never came.

It was all I could do to keep myself together as he typed away at his phone instead of pretending to even listen to me. The constant reminder that I needed this job was what kept me from clawing his eyes out. The idea of things getting better and that maybe he'd come around was the small bit of hope that I'd clung to and for the moment, it'd worked.

But that moment had all came crashing down around me, as I pushed opened his slightly closed office door just moments ago, to find him standing between Whitney's, one of our I.T. specialists, parted thighs. She'd sat propped on his desk with her skirt snug around her upper thighs. His hand was rested underneath her chin, and her hands were wrapped firmly around his biceps.

My breath catches in my throat, my heels catching into the carpet as I come to a sudden stop. Wes slowly drags his eyes over to mine, as I stand frozen in the doorway. I'm not sure what my face looked like, but I could only hope that I managed to house a poker face instead of bearing the feeling of pure disappointment that currently ran through my body like a circuit.

What. The. Fuck.

Really? Could this man be any crasser? Sex in the middle of the day, with his office door mid-way opened for all to see and hear. I grip the paperwork I'd had in my hands with white knuckle force. My eyes fall away from the two of them, as I quickly backed out of the office, slamming the door shut behind me.

Once I'm in my office, I quickly close my door and lean against it. I could literally hear my heartbeat thud loudly in my ears as I try to comprehend what I'd just saw.