Blitz (Blast Brothers #3) - Sabrina Stark Page 0,7
it was easy to guess where Abigail had heard such an insane story.
From Chase himself.
I felt my fingers tighten into fists. Boy, he'd fucked me alright, just not the way he'd meant.
But if he thought I'd simply go away, he was dead wrong. One way or another, I vowed, I'd make him pay for this.
Chapter 6
Chase
I was sitting at my desk when Erin, my new assistant, appeared in my open doorway to say, "You've got another one."
I frowned. "Another what?"
Erin hesitated. "Actually, I'm not sure what to call them."
Erin was a fresh-faced brunette in her mid-twenties. She'd been my assistant for less than two weeks, and she was still settling in. My last assistant – a real pistol named Ruby – had recently moved to Vegas with her fourth husband.
At times like these, I missed Ruby's bluntness. Unlike Erin, Ruby wouldn't be standing there looking uneasy as she tried to come up with the right word to describe whatever I supposedly had.
But Erin was a nice person – a hell of a lot nicer than I was – and was turning out to be an exceptional assistant in every other way, so I steepled my fingers and waited patiently for her to just spit it out.
Finally, after a long moment, she said, "Um…a blonde?"
I gave Erin a look. "So I've got another blonde. That's what you're telling me?" I made a show of glancing around. "So, where is she?"
"In the downstairs lobby. According to Gretchen, she's been camped out there for days."
The more Erin talked, the less I understood. "So, she's sleeping in the lobby?"
My office was located on the top floor of our largest factory. We made tools and plenty of them. And even though our lobby was nice enough, it was no five-star hotel.
Erin replied, "No. But she's been there every day this week."
Today was Thursday. "So four days then."
Erin nodded. "She told Gretchen that you agreed to meet with her, but she's not on your schedule."
Again, I frowned. "You get a name?"
Erin glanced down at her notepad. "Mina Lipinski."
Mina, Mina… I searched my memories and came up empty.
In the doorway, Erin added, "Gretchen said to tell you that if you want, she'll call security and have them handle it."
"Security, huh?"
Erin nodded. "Apparently, she's been getting pushier every day." Obviously, she meant the blonde, not Gretchen.
I'd seen my share of pushy blondes – brunettes and redheads, too. There was a time – and it wasn't too long ago – that this might've been the highlight of my afternoon.
Not anymore.
And yet, I wasn't so big of a pussy that I'd call security over a single wayward blonde. If it came down to it, I'd tell her to shove off personally.
Erin cleared her throat. "And apparently, she might be crazy."
By now, I was an expert in crazy. Like ice cream, it came in plenty of flavors. "Crazy how?"
With obvious reluctance, Erin replied, "Like stalker crazy."
So the blonde was a fan. This was nothing new. At least twice a month – and sometimes more often than that – I had some new superfan show up and refuse to leave.
I'd met some of my best girlfriends that way – if you ignored the fact that my relationships tended to be on the short side.
But I was done with all that. It wasn't just because the game had gotten old. It was because both of my brothers had pussied out and decided to settle down.
During the last year, both of them had gotten engaged – Brody maybe ten months ago and Mason just last week. But they'd gone exclusive long before that.
This alone wouldn't have been enough to change my habits. But it had gotten me thinking – not upstairs, but down below.
Yeah, I meant in my pants.
Oh sure, I could still get it up. No problems there. But it was like both of us – me and my cock – were bored and restless. In the spirit of figuring out what the hell was going on, I'd decided to take a short hiatus.
That was two months ago, and the hiatus had turned into a habit. A bad habit?
I was still trying to decide.
The truth was, now that I'd stepped back from the easy sex, I'd been thinking more clearly than I had in years, and not just about business either.
I'd been thinking about my life – or lack thereof.
Oh sure, from the outside, I had it all – looks, money, and enough names to fill ten little black books.