Tainted Desires | 18+

05 - We Meet Pt. 1

Terrence Toussaint

My head hurt so much from how much I'd drunk yesterday. The pounding headache, queasy stomach and exhaustion from the actions I'd engaged in last night felt like I'd been hit by a bus this morning. I don't even remember how I got home last night. I keep telling myself that I'll take control of my life, but it seems like every time I try, I get knocked down and back to square one.

Why do I always do this to myself? I know that I let myself down every time I wake up with this hangover but I'm far gone into it and don't see myself going back as if felt like I'd lost my feelings over the past eight years.

I groan as I feel my phone buzz in my hand. I didn't want to open my eyes, heck, I could hardly open my eyes with how bright outside was. I pulled the glasses that were on my head, over my eyes so I could attend to the disturbance in my phone.

We should do this again <3

I furrowed my brows, thinking about who sent the message. Checking to see who the sender was, but there was no name. It must have been the object of my attention last night. I scoffed at the audacity she had, thinking we could meet again. I never did more than one-night stands, they were there just to ease my frustration and pent-up anger.

One would think the boxing sessions I'd been having would help ease me, it only made matters worse. Whenever I came back from boxing with busted knuckles, it would remind me of how I'd seen her last. It felt like pieces of my heart kept shredding every time I thought of her, where she was now, and how happy she would be with someone who deserved her. I hated myself for hating her so much.

"We're here," my father's driver announced, breaking me out of my thoughts.

Turning my head to the right to make sure we were truly at work, I see George briskly walking towards the car, holding a cup of coffee in one hand. His hair was sticking in different directions like he'd run his fingers through multiple times, his tie had flipped over and his glasses weirdly hung on his face. Unprofessional. I opened the door of the car and got down, stuffing my phone in the pocket of my work pants.

"You look homeless,"

Quickly adjusting his tie and patting down his hair, "I had to get things done before you came. She's not yet here so I had to handle mine and her business simultaneously," he handed me the cup of coffee in his hand.

"Who's she?" Still not bothering to come to a halt, I keep walking to the elevator where a black-suited man was waiting for me to arrive while he pressed the button.

"Your assistant," that was new. When did I hire one? "Your father hired him for you, remember?"

Oh. "What's her name?" I was getting irritated at the fact that my father had gone through with hiring a personal assistant whose job was to follow me everywhere. Asides from my home, obviously, why would I let a stranger in?

From the corner of my eye, I see George opening his mouth to answer but was interrupted when someone across the room, decided to yell. "Hold the door!"

Raising my glasses to the top of my head to see who had ordered for the door to be held, I see a blonde-haired woman running towards the elevator. I squint my eyes to catch a glimpse of who she was. As she got closer to the elevator, quickly packing her hair up into a ponytail, that's when I realized that it was her.

It couldn't be.

It's her.

My heart begins to race as I watched her slow down her pace. My hands began to sweat as memories of our past flooded my mind, I was filled with mixed emotions of excitement, anger and anxiety.

What was she doing here?

Does she even remember me?

Once she got to the elevator, she looked up to thank the staff that held the door but that didn't seem to catch her attention, it was me, and our eyes locked almost instantly. For a moment, it felt as though time stood still. Nothing else existed but us. I couldn't help but feel a wave of nostalgia wash over me.

We had both changed but there was something about her that felt so similar as she held me down with her brown eyes. We both stood there, staring at each other, taking in the changes that the years had brought. I couldn't help but notice her hair was longer now, her thick glasses no longer present, the lines around her eyes and mouth as evidence of stress she may have endured making the frown etched on my lips deepen, her once round face had become a bit more defined but she still had the rosy cheeks I loved to pull.

My eyes went lower to her thick lips that had slightly parted earlier when she saw me. Oh. Lower, it seemed like she had lost the baby fat but gained more mature weight, her curves now prominent which suited her. If someone else had seen her, they'd think she looked like she had shed her old skin and emerged as a more confident, comfortable version of herself. But as soon as I looked back up to connect our eyes, she looked unsure. She may have changed physically but her eyes were still the same, still readable.

What was wrong with me? A strong thud in my heart brings me back to reality.

I see her lips parting wider as if she wanted to say something but she shuts it back almost immediately. Anger rushes through me as she just stares at me, with nothing to say. Why was I expecting her to say something to me? What did I even want to hear? An apology? Apology for what? For leaving without saying anything.

"This is-"

Impatient to hear what George had to say, "Close the door."

I knew my voice had been too cold with the way she flinched back but that's exactly how I wanted her to see me, not like the boy she had left behind. I watched as the door closes, my eyes still stuck on her, unable to move. Her lips form into a tight line as she watches me disappear behind the door.

The entire ride up to my floor was silent. No one dared to utter a word, I couldn't even hear anyone breathing. I wouldn't even have known if anyone said anything or was breathing, I had zoned back to how she looked behind the elevator doors. What was she doing in my company? The air in the elevator suddenly became thicker.

My fingers find their way to the button of my shirt. Why was I overthinking everything? It's not like she came to my company to ask for forgiveness. What if she came by to give me an invitation card to her wedding? The thought of that had me going crazy, what if she was already married? I cock my head to the side, trying to remember if I had seen a wedding ring on her finger.

The elevator finally came to a halt and the doors opened. My fingers immediately went to loosen the tie around my neck as it felt like I was being choked. I briefly catch a glimpse of my secretary, Kimberly, pushing her breasts higher, almost letting them bulge out from her tight shirt.

Disgusted by her lack of dignity, I walked past her to my office. It has always been like this ever since I had sex with her. It had happened twice, not that I had feelings for her, but because I needed to release some tension and she just happened to be there. I'd admit she's good looking but that was all she was, good-looking enough to have her bend over on my table.

As soon as I entered my office, I slammed the door behind me, signalling to George and my other staff who were trailing behind me that I needed space. Some would say simple communication would have done the work but why go through all that when I was the boss?

Finally shrugging off the fabric that was on my neck, I settled down on the chair behind my desk and let my thoughts wander wherever it wanted to. And where did my thoughts lie, Mirabelle Morrison, the woman that I'd left downstairs that seemed to control how my emotions were fluctuating at the moment.

She was back.