Harvey is sex and sin personified. And completely off-limits since he's my dad's best friend. I've spent years fantasizing about the gorgeous tattooed god who has eyes that can melt the skin from my bones if I stare into them for too long. So when Dad has the brilliant idea for me to intern at Harvey's company to get some real world experience, I jump at it. Except Harvey has a very different interpretation of real world experience and when we're trapped in his deserted office during a massive snowstorm, that's when the education really begins.
“I’m so sorry to be the one to deliver this to you.” Madyson, my very pregnant assistant, walks into my office, her forehead pinched. She holds out a large manilla envelope between her two fingers like it’s the most revolting piece of trash.
And judging by the size of the envelope, I immediately know that assessment isn’t far off.
“From your lawyer,” she adds, as if I didn’t already realize what she’s about to drop onto my desk.
I take it from her and toss it onto the pile of folders already sitting in front of me. “Thanks.”
Madyson’s hands drop to her belly. “I was going to take off unless you need anything else?”
My lips lift the slightest bit. “Last time you’re going to ask me that for the next three months.”
“How will you ever survive?” she says in a snarky voice.
“I really hope that kid of yours gets the sarcasm gene.”
She laughs. “Seriously, though. I feel horrible leaving you under these circumstances. You have so much work left to close those deals. Let me try to schedule a few more assistant interviews—”
I hold up a hand. “Maddie, go have your baby. I’m a big boy. I’ll be fine.”
“You won’t be fine if you never give another assistant a chance.”
“I like my assistant. I want to keep her.”
“Yes, but she will be gone for the next twelve weeks!” Madyson throws her hands in the air. “You have to be flexible, Harvey.”
“I prefer to be flexible in areas outside the office.” I grin and open the top drawer of my desk. “I promise I will be fine. I have to be. I’m the goddamn CEO.”
She shakes her head. “You’re too stubborn for your own good. It’ll come back to bite you.”
“So I’ve heard plenty of times from my bitch almost ex-wife.” I nod at the offending package on my desk and Madyson’s eyes drop to the floor.
I pull out an envelope and hand it to her. “Just a little something for your little guy.”
“And by that you mean a little bribe to make sure you get dibs on his middle name?”
I chuckle. “Do the kid a favor. He needs a good, powerful name.”
She smiles. “Power name, power suits, power steering.”
“And that’s exactly why I can’t ever hire another assistant.”
“Thanks, Harvey.” Madyson gives a little wave. “Good luck. I have a feeling you’re going to need it.”
That couldn’t be any closer to the truth.
I watch Madyson walk out of my office then turn a glare at what Madyson delivered. I slide the papers out of it, rage bubbling in my chest as I review the documents. How in the fuck did my lawyer let that whore rake me over the coals like this? I scribble my signature at the bottom and toss my Mont Blanc pen onto the desk, my lips twisting like I’ve just tasted shit.
I guess it’s apropos since my cunt ex-wife did tell me to eat shit at the last meeting with our lawyers before she fucked me one last time.
Swiveling around to face the floor to ceiling window behind me, I sit back in my leather chair and stare at the snow falling outside. From this high up, I can see ice skaters circling the rink at Rockefeller Center and crowds of spectators watching, laughing, and generally enjoying the holiday season.
I glower at the huge, colorfully lit tree as if it’s taunting me with all of the decisions that have led me to this point.
Oh, fuck you, tree.
Things between me and Shanna might have been rocky for a few years but when we got married, she knew how invested I was in my company. And she was on board with it, especially once we grew to the point where she was able to build up her goddamn closet with Prada, Gucci, Chanel, and Jimmy Choo.
I gave her everything she ever wanted. Fucking beach house in Southampton, apartment in Paris, cars, jewelry. But in the end, she wanted something I wasn’t capable of giving. So she went off and fucked her personal trainer. She said he appreciated her body more than I did.
Can’t lie, she was right. We fucked, but it was cold. Emotionless. Just a means to an end.
As time went on, she got more and more frustrated with my lack of attention, and I got more and more buried in my work.
I scrub a hand down the front of my stubbled face.
Shanna was always pretty calculating. No shock that she waited until now to serve me with papers. Without a solid prenup in place, she was able to dig her greedy little hands into everything I built. And as creative as my lawyer is, he couldn’t do much to stop it.
But fuck it. I made choices. And the worst one was getting married in the first place. I figured I’d be the eternal bachelor, with a different woman on my arm every night. Until my best friend Landon convinced me there was more to life than revolving door pussy and work.
So I took the plunge and married Shanna. And after years of trying and not being able to have a baby, we just kind of drifted. She filled the void with things, I filled it with more work.
Problem is, we didn’t fill it with each other.
My ringtone blares out, jarring me from my thoughts. I grab it and stab the Accept button.
“Are you calling to convince me to make another important life choice?” Sarcasm drips from my voice.
“I just wanted to find out how you’re doing,” Landon says. “And to invite you to dinner since I know you haven’t even left the office.”
A sigh escapes my lips. I’m starving, that’s for damn sure.
“I’ve got a lot to do tonight. There are two deals pending and today was my Madyson’s last day.”
“What the hell are you going to do without Maddie?” Landon asks. “You need help, especially with those deals pending.”
“More kinds than one.” I sweep a hand through my hair, my shoulders tight.
“Okay, so I may have a solution for you. Come over and we’ll talk. Allie is making your favorite.”
My mouth waters at the sound of those words. Beef ragout. Oh, fuck yes. Better than any rendition even the most upscale restaurants have ever served me.
“You know you want it,” Landon cajoles.
I swing my chair around to face my desk. “You sold me. I’ll be over in an hour.”
After I end the call, I pick up the divorce agreement and tear it up.
It’s over. I don’t have to deal with anyone else’s bullshit demands.
From now on, the only one making demands is me.