Always Wrong - Xyla Turner Page 0,22

morning. It took me an hour to get to Sheryl’s place of work, and her secretary seemed quite surprised to have an unexpected appointment for Ms. South. She tried to give me the run-around, to make an appointment, so I quietly sat down and told her I would wait for Ms. South until she was finished.

“But that could be hours,” she shot back.

“I’ll wait.” I stared at her.

The anger had long gone, now there was a resolute resolve that Sheryl would yield because I would not take no for an answer. And if she wanted to muck it up, then she would bloody do it to my face.

I swear, this shit reminded me of Noah and all the times he’d needed to go to Philadelphia to settle something with Maxine. I thought he was a crazy fool. Thought the woman was playing him, but now, even for the potential mother of my child, I saw. She and I wouldn’t be married or anything like that, but my friend was sure at his honeymoon with his wife. Just like I planned to be in our home with our son in less than two years.

After the secretary walked into what I presumed was Ms. South’s office and returned five minutes later, she looked nervous. I waited for an hour, then two. Another hour. And then I used the restroom quickly and returned to my seat and continued to patiently wait.

After four hours, Sheryl emerged, opened both double doors, and called out, “Mr. Costa, please come in.”

Oh, her arse was going to get it.

Slowly standing, I pulled my leather carry-on bag with me and proceeded to close the double doors behind me after entering her office.

“You can keep them open,” she called from near her desk.

“I don’t think you want this conversation to be broadcast throughout your company,” I said with a half-turn and remained there until she consented.

After closing the door, I went to go sit down. Not to the chair, where she wanted to me to sit like I was her client.

No.

I rounded her desk and folded one leg on the top as I leaned again the edge of it, directly to her left.

“Jacquez,” she scoffed, but I just stared at her. “What are you doing? Can you go and have a seat so we can talk like civil human beings? As a matter of fact, what are you doing here?”

I continued to stare and said nothing. Sheryl tried to roll her executive chair back, but I stopped it with my hand and pulled her back into the opening, where her body fit. She was going nowhere.

“You did it again,” I finally told her. “You’ve tried to ghost me again.”

Her chin lifted in that subtle defiance, then she looked away from me.

“Sheryl,” I called. “Why?”

It took a while for her to actually answer me, but I had nothing but time, so I waited.

“I don’t do the whole hanging up on me. It’s a problem, and I don’t like it.”

She turned to glare. “You hung up on me, and it’s a hard no. So if you want to abruptly dismiss me, then you don’t deserve to speak to me. Period.”

Hang up on her?

Dismiss her?

“You thought me hanging up was a dismissal?” I asked the angry woman.

“Absolutely,” she replied. “I did not get to say anything back, and the line went dead. I don’t play those games. I get you’re all manly, strong, and an alpha asshole. I can handle that to a certain extent, but dismissing me like I’m some option or side won’t work, and I’m okay with breaking our verbal agreement for that.”

What the fuck?

“Wait?” I tried to surmise. “You’re willing to throw away what we’ve started because I hung up the phone on you?”

Those brown eyes burned into mine as she nodded an emphatic yes.

“I think you’re looking for any reason to end this,” I told her honestly. “I’m not diminishing your feelings, but you are old enough to know that you need to communicate if I am doing or have done something that you do not like. We’re not bloody kids, South. We’re talking about bringing a child into this world together. I don’t take that lightly, and honestly, I’m a little pissed that you’ve decided, alone, by the way, to take this stance without speaking to me. You know the other party in this agreement. It’s an ultimatum. Well, fine then. I reject your ultimatum. We had an agreement, you’re ovulating and my cock”—I patted my thigh,