Wicked Dix (Hard Love Romance #2)

by Monica James

  I laugh, loving Max’s spunk. “Honestly, I couldn’t give a damn,” I reveal behind my hand.

  Aiko and Max chuckle. Max steps forward and places his hand on my shoulder. “If you change your mind, I’d love to have a brandy with you. If not, I shall see you tomorrow.”

  “Okay, Max. Either way, we will catch up,” I affirm. “It was lovely meeting you, Aiko. I hope to see you again soon.” She smiles and we part ways after we wave goodbye.

  As I ride the elevator to my floor, I can’t help but remember how Madison and I cemented our relationship under this very roof. If I’d known then what I know now, I would have confessed everything then and there. With hindsight, I would have done so many things differently. But that’s the fucked-up thing about hindsight. It’s useless.

  As I enter the lavish room, I get hit with a serious case of nostalgia, as this room is a replication of the one I shared with Madison. As I walk to the bedroom, I can’t help but wonder if this feeling will ever go away. Will I ever be able to walk into a room, smell a certain fragrance, or eat a certain food without thinking about Madison, or relating it to her somehow? When my eyes fall to the king-size bed, I know that the answer is probably no.

  I hang up my suit and then go on to arrange my toiletries in the bathroom. The counter looks so bare without Madison’s entire makeup collection crowding the surface space. And so does the glass, where my toothbrush sits on its lonesome.

  Needing a distraction, I decide to pour myself a drink and watch some TV, but when an ad comes on, detailing that Madison Avenue is the best place to shop, I quickly change channels and groan. When will this stop?

  Leaning my head back against the sofa, I stare up at the ceiling, wondering if this is what the rest of my life will be like. If so, it’s going to be one long, painful ride.

  Deciding to take Max up on his offer, I quickly get up and leave behind my boulevard of broken dreams.

  * * *

  The ballroom is in full swing. I, however, am not. I’ve been here for roughly fifteen minutes, and already I can feel my cheeks start to ache from all the fake smiling.

  I seem to be everyone’s golden boy because as soon as I finish talking to one person, another takes their place. The majority of the conversations have been dull and drab, but I smile and nod, hoping I catch a break and someone pulls the fire alarm soon.

  As I’m talking to Dr. Frenk about his experiences after winning the Gerald Harriet Award, I can’t help but look longingly at the bar; I need a scotch to deal with the boring content of his speech. How different my attitude is to what it was when I was last here. Of course I would be thrilled to win the award, but it doesn’t seem as important as it once was.

  With that thought in mind, I politely excuse myself and make a beeline for the bar. Max and Aiko are talking to Dr. Felding, looking as excited as I feel. I decide to have one drink with Max before calling it a night.

  “Two scotches, please.” The bartender nods and goes about pouring my drinks.

  As I’m waiting, the hair on the back of my neck suddenly stands on end and every part of my body is telling me to keep my eyes front. But it doesn’t matter where I look because Rebecca, Chad’s fiancée, will ensure she’s all up in my face, demanding my complete attention.

  “Hi, handsome. Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?” I unconsciously shift away, hoping she gets the hint and leaves. She doesn’t. “If possible, you’re looking even hotter than when I saw you last. I like the scruff.” As she attempts to run her fingers through my full beard, I pull away, almost bumping into the woman next to me.

  I apologize quickly and rejoice when the bartender places the scotches in front of me. “Good evening, Rebecca,” I dismissively say, grabbing my drinks and attempting to leave.

  “Do you like my dress?” she randomly blurts out, running a hand down her torso. She looks like a Christmas ham in her laced ensemble, but I nod, not at all interested in what she has to say. “Well, you should see what I’m wearing—or not wearing—underneath.”

  Holding back my vomit, I step forward, but she moves to the side, blocking my path. “What do you want?” I snap, my patience wearing thin. I haven’t forgotten what she did to Madison. Whatever awful, venomous words she spewed to Maddy the night of the Gerald Harriet Fellowship Award ceremony brought on an episode that almost destroyed Madison’s fragile mind.

  I have no intention of pretending that I can stand the sight of her.

  She pathetically pouts while I glance around the room to ensure no one is watching this painful encounter. “Where’s your little girlfriend?”

  Just the mere mention of Madison has me seeing red. “That’s none of your concern.” I step forward, not bothering to mask my anger. “Rebecca, consider this your first warning. This is strike one.”

  Her cheeks flush and she licks her upper lip slowly. “What happens at strike two? Or better yet, strike three?”

  Unable to put a lid on my emotions, I get into her face and snarl, “Don’t test me, Rebecca. Unlike last time, I’ve got nothing to lose.” A small breath catches in her throat and she exhales heavily.

  Great, my words have had the complete opposite effect, and now she’s totally turned on. This time, however, I don’t have Maddy to save me. I do, however, have Chad.

  “There you are.”

  Rebecca leaps in the air, totally busted. “D-darling,” she fumbles, brushing a hand through her hair. “Look who I found on my way to the bathroom.”

  Chad looks between us and I see it—a hint of suspicion. But he smiles and shakes my hand. “Good of you to join us, Doctor. Attending your own festivities fashionably late, I see.”

  Thankfully, the air has cleared and I don’t have to enlighten him about what a harlot his fiancée is. “Ah, you know me. I like to drink alone. Speaking of.” I hold up my drinks, indicating I was on my way out.

  Chad reads me loud and clear but says, “I’m not one to stand in the way of a man and his scotch, but join me tomorrow morning? A few friends and I are going sailing.”

  Though donating my kidney would be more enjoyable, I nod, as I just want to get away from Rebecca and all the bad memories she represents. “That sounds wonderful. Text me the details and I’ll meet you there.”

  I bid him farewell, not even bothering to acknowledge the shrew. With both drinks in hand, I search the room for Max. When I find him standing a few feet away, I stop dead in my tracks because I know that he knows. He so saw my exchange with Rebecca. The question is, what will he do?

  Unable to stomach the wait, I raise one glass, indicating the drink is for him. He shakes his head and points at me, implying that I need it more than him.

  I’ll drink to that.

  30

  All that Glitters Is Not Gold

  DIXON

  Why I agreed to sailing is beyond me.

  Not only do I hate the water, I had to spend hundreds on “acceptable” boating attire. In other words, I feel and look like a total tool.

  But I suppose it’s a small price to pay to be sitting amongst the best of the best. I’m sailing with three of America’s top doctors, who seem to really have taken a liking to me. We’ve bonded over khakis, the Red Sox, and Long Island Ice Teas. These docs can’t handle their booze, however, and Dr. Lieberman has let slip that I have almost certainly won the award.

  Chad is thankfully not as intoxicated as these two other clowns, and as we sail through calm waters, he turns to me and smiles. “How do you feel about winning the award, Dixon?”

  I shrug, not really knowing how I feel. “Fine, I guess.”

  He cocks his head to the side. “You guess? You’re not excited?”

  I realize I should probably show a little more excitement and gratitude. “I am. Very excited. I just won’t count my chickens before they’ve hatched.”

  Chad smirks, my answer appearing to appease him. “Smart thinking, but let’s just say your chickens have hatched, what do you plan on doing?”

  I honestly haven’t g
iven it much thought. I know winning this award is life-changing. It’ll open up many doors and opportunities for me, and as Chad once told me, I wouldn’t solely have to practice, I could also teach.

  But things with Madison have really had me questioning…everything. Do I want to stay in Manhattan? The more I think about it, the more the answer becomes clearer. My relationship with Manhattan has turned ugly, and I can’t help but wonder if I were drunk the entire time I lived there because the thought of going back now turns my stomach.

  I decide to answer Chad honestly. He is a doctor, after all. Maybe he can tell me I’m not as crazy as I feel. “I was thinking of getting out of Manhattan,” I confess. “Maybe go back to Jersey.”

  He pulls back, not hiding his surprise. “You’re serious?”

  I nod. “I think it’s time for a change.” Although he knows nothing of my father’s condition, I add, “I’d like to make the most of whatever time my father has left on this earth.”

  He’s still wearing his shocked face when he replies, “I won’t lie, Dixon, this comes as quite a surprise, but you have to follow your gut. You can practice wherever you like. So if Jersey feels like home, then go for it.”

  Coming from Chad, that advice is surprisingly reassuring. “So you don’t think I’m taking a demotion by leaving the Big Smoke and moving onto greener pastures—literally?”

  Chad smirks as he sips his cocktail. “Not at all. Family is important.” He looks over at Rebecca, who is sunbathing topless. Thankfully, she’s on her stomach. “Don’t let work shroud what’s important in life. Having no one to celebrate your milestones with really puts everything into perspective.”

  I raise an eyebrow. Could it be Chad has finally realized that Rebecca is a gold-digging hussy? I don’t say anything, however, as he’ll have to find out the hard way. Just like I did.

  Chad clears his throat, appearing embarrassed to have shared too much. “I’d best check on those two fools.” We both look over at Dr. Lieberman and Dr. Das, who are hanging over the edge of the boat, laughing hysterically at God knows what.

  As Chad excuses himself, Rebecca cunningly rolls over so her tits are sitting sunny side up. She looks over at me and winks. I turn my head away, disgusted that this woman is in my line of sight. After Chad’s confession, I actually feel sorry for him. Now that the novelty of Rebecca’s cooch has worn off, he can almost certainly see that he should have stayed with his wife. But us men, we need to find out the hard way that all that glitters is not gold.

  “Hi, Doctor.”

  Exhaling loudly, I turn to look at Rebecca. I’m thankful she’s no longer topless. “Hi.”

  My insolent tone doesn’t seem to deter her in the slightest. “So, I was thinking, after tonight’s proceedings, maybe we could meet up?”

  “Whatever for?”

  She tries to pull the innocent act when she toys with the drawstring of her bikini top and bites her bottom lip. “Maybe have a drink. I want to show you I’m not all bad. I think we got off on the wrong foot.” She’s got a lot of gall.

  She’s come to realize coming on too strong hasn’t worked, so she’s now trying a different approach. It’s still not working, however.

  Leaning in close, I reply, “No, we didn’t. I know your type, Rebecca. I’m not interested in having a drink with you. Nor am I interested in speaking to you. Please leave me alone.” I turn around to look out over the railing.

  Sadly, her malicious voice ruins my view. “Don’t forget, I can blemish your little comradeship with Chad. One word, Dr. Mathews, that’s all it’ll take.”

  Strike two.

  I am done with women blackmailing me. “No, you won’t, Rebecca,” I refute, not bothering to look at her. “You know that if you did, your cushy life with Chad will be over. He may have been blinded by what’s between your legs, but believe me, it’s beginning to leave a bitter aftertaste. Both literally and figuratively speaking.” She stomps off a second later, thankfully not rebutting my claims.

  Being around Rebecca has only reinforced how much I miss Madison. It has also cemented the fact that I have changed. I may have had to lose everything in the process, but you have to lose everything to appreciate what you have. Or, in Madison’s case, had.

  Feeling those familiar feelings of longing pass over me, I gulp down my cocktail and realize I’m one step closer in deciding my fate.

  * * *

  As I look at my reflection in the mirror, I know that something big is about to happen. I don’t know how I know, I just do.

  I readjust my navy tie, not feeling an iota of nerves because this has been a long time coming. I should have done this from the get-go. Madison’s words about me dealing with the consequences of my mistakes can be applied to this situation too.

  I can’t believe how far off the path I’ve strayed. It’s time to fix the error of my ways.

  As I step out of the elevator, I can’t believe how calm I feel. To onlookers, my arrogance might be mistaken for cockiness about my certainty that I’ve won the award, but winning the award is the furthest thing from my mind.

  When I inform the staff member who I am, she smiles and leads me over to table number one. Max, Aiko, Chad, Rebecca, and three other contenders and their partners are sitting at the large table. Bad luck for me, the seat in between Rebecca and Max is the only one free. Not wanting to make a scene, I walk over and take it.

  “Evening,” I say, addressing the table.

  “Hello, my friend,” Chad replies, holding up his glass in salute. I nod and reach for the bottle of red.

  The table continues quizzing Dr. Bora on his findings in Abnormal Psychology. As I’m listening to him speak, I can’t help but compare him to a textbook. His findings are brilliant, but I’ve heard most of them before. And if he uses quotation marks around the word abnormal one more time, I’ll have no hesitation about alerting him to the fact that we’re not imbeciles.

  Ten minutes in, Max leans over and whispers, “Can you believe this moron was actually nominated? A monkey smoking a cigar is more intelligent, not to mention more interesting than he is.”

  I can’t hold back my laugh and mask it behind my hand. Thankfully, Dr. Bora is too busy in his egocentric world to notice the disruption. “I stick to my original theory of you being the only sensible choice to win.”

  As I subtly shift my leg away when Rebecca fondles my thigh, I can’t help but think how wrong he is.

  * * *

  “I’ll be right back. I just have to inform the emcee that we’re ready for the proceedings to commence,” Chad says as he stands, buttoning up his suit jacket. He looks at me and gives me a knowing smile.

  Throughout the evening, Rebecca has been relatively tame, but now that Chad has gone, it’s claws out, and I mean that literally. I move my leg away for the tenth time this hour, bored and angered by her tenacity. I don’t know how many times I have to say no before she gets the hint and leaves me alone.

  I’m quite certain my annoyance is showing because I haven’t failed to notice Max looking at me with curiosity as I grind my teeth in frustration. Too bad Chad hasn’t figured it out.

  Rebecca leans close. “I’d have thought by now you’d realize I don’t give up easily.”

  Unable to keep the anger from my tone, I reply, “Neither do I.”

  “I like a challenge,” she counters huskily, not caring that we’re in earshot of her fiancé’s colleagues. I shake my head, feeling so unbelievably frustrated to find myself in this situation.

  Max shifts besides me, and I know he can hear our conversation loud and clear. I bet he’s rethinking his claims about me being the best contender for the award.

  “You wouldn’t have to do a thing. All you’d have to do is lie back and enjoy the ride,” she states quickly because at that precise moment, we both see Chad walking back to our table, his eyes darting between our inappropriate closeness.

  “No,” I grind out between clenched teeth.

  “Oh, for Christ’s sake, anyone woul
d think you’ve got something against blowjobs!” Her outburst is a little louder than she anticipated because as soon as the words leave her lips, she slaps a hand over her mouth. But it’s too late.

  The table grows quiet, appearing unsure if they actually heard what they thought they did. But sadly, they did.

  “What are you two whispering about?” Chad asks suspiciously as he takes his seat. The entire table looks on with interest.

  I could lie, but I know this is where it all begins.

  Rebecca nervously brushes down her dress, while I lean in and whisper, “Strike three.”

  She twists to look at me, her eyes pleading that I don’t, but she should have thought about that before cornering someone who has nothing left to lose.

  Calmly reaching for my wine, I take a sip before confessing, “We were discussing how your fiancée wants to deep-throat me, and then fuck me into a boneless stupor.”

  The table gasps, while Chad’s mouth drops open and his face turns a ghastly shade of white. The truth hurts but better that than living a lie. “I’m sorry, Chad. I respect you immensely and I cannot lie to you any longer. Your fiancée is a gold-digging whore.” Chad’s mouth drops even further, while Rebecca spins to look at him, frantically claiming that it’s all lies.

  I look over at Aiko, embarrassed by my crudeness. “My apologies for being so vulgar.” She waves it off, appearing comfortable with my honesty.

  The emcee chooses this moment to announce that all nominees are to come up on stage. I stand and coolly button up my jacket. Chad’s face has now turned a bright shade of red and he too stands up, probably ready to knock me to the ground. I appeal to the rational man that lies deep within.

  “A wise man once told me having no one to celebrate your milestones with really puts everything into perspective. And he was right.”

  Taking a great risk, I walk past Chad as the emcee calls out my name. Placing my hand on his shoulder, I give it a reassuring squeeze. “Get out now before it’s too late. Believe me, I know.”