Bad Swipe Bad Swipe (Billionaire's Club #12) - Elise Faber Page 0,2
Monday morning?
Did the universe hate her?
Was the god of evil ex-boyfriends determined to make her life miserable?
“No, Jeremy,” she said, grasping at the straws of her calm. “I don’t know. However, if you’d clue me into what you’re looking for, I’m happy to tell you.”
Silence.
Narrowed eyes and a clenched jaw. God, once she’d thought he was the handsomest man she’d ever laid eyes on. But now as she was looking at him, she could only see an angry, sad man and wonder how in the hell had she wasted so much time being upset about the breakup.
“Vase. Blue with white flowers.”
She frowned, searching her brain, before remembering that she did, in fact, have the vase. It was sitting on top of her bookcase and was actually quite pretty. One of the few things that Jeremy had bought her that she’d actually liked. But, “You gave me that for our anniversary.”
His lips pressed flat. “My mom gave it to me. She’s flying in today.”
Stef read between the lines. He needed it back or his mom would freak the fuck out, and . . . here her petty streak came out because it was so tempting to refuse, knowing that Jeremy would get an earful from his uber-controlling, feelings-hurt-at-the-drop-of-a-hat mother.
It would be glorious.
But . . . here her rational streak came out. If she fought Jeremy over this, he would stay, and he wouldn’t give up. He’d browbeat her into giving it back, or at the very least, he would annoy the shit out of her until she was so fed up that she chucked it at him.
And then she’d have glass in her entryway, and she’d be further contributing to the drought because she would have another delay returning to her shower.
Namely having to clean up the glass.
Still, it was tempting . . .
Fred whined.
Reminding her that her pupper would eventually lose all self-control and really burst out the front door, equaling more shower delays.
Lastly, now that she remembered the vase and knew that it hadn’t been a gift from Jeremy but rather a regift from his mother, the pretty blue container had lost most of its appeal.
“Wait here,” she said.
He narrowed his eyes.
She repeated, more firmly this time, “Wait here.”
Then she closed the door, threw the lock, and moved to the bookcase. It wasn’t far, thus, it didn’t take her very long to retrieve it, but Jeremy was already knocking again by the time she made it back to the entryway.
God, why did she have such horrible taste in men?
Sigh.
She flicked open the lock, turned the handle, and thrust the vase at Jeremy. “Anything else?”
He scrambled to hold on to it. “Um . . . no.”
“Good.” She narrowed her eyes. “If you show up on my porch again, banging on my door, I will call the police.”
Jeremy’s lips parted, anger flooding his blue eyes.
“You remember I have another vase or something else, you text, and I’ll get it to you when it’s convenient for me.” Her voice was harder than it had ever been, and she saw the surprise trailing over his expression. Good. The only positive from this morning’s call was that Stef was now certain there wasn’t a speck of longing inside her for this man. “Now, go home.”
“Stef,” he began, and she would have to have been an idiot to not miss the sudden interest in his face.
Nor the way his eyes went to her breasts.
As though the first sign of her temper—which she could truthfully admit wasn’t something she’d ever shown him, even in their two years together—was a turn-on.
But seriously, yeah. No.
Maybe she’d been so invested in making the relationship work that she’d hidden parts of herself. Okay, no maybe about it. That was the truth. She’d definitely hidden whole facets of herself in order to keep things smooth sailing with Jeremy.
Pathetic. It really was.
Well, no more.
She slammed the door, not caring that it was close to his face, not caring if it hit his face.
Then she threw the lock and went back to her shower.
Shutting the door on Jeremy, on the person she’d been with him. Forever.
And good riddance.
For the record, her shower was absolutely divine.
Chapter Two
Ben
He was half-delirious from jet lag, but he had a full day in the office.
This was the week his company was going public.
And no matter how many times everyone had assured him that all the pieces were in place, shit kept hitting the fan. He was tired of putting out fires. He was tired. Period.