Sudden Desires

by Shanora Williams

  I scroll through his website. Other than that deal he was talking about with Quarter or something, nothing is new. I continue scrolling, but it is then that a woman catches my eyes.

  A beautiful brunette woman.

  Gorgeous, really. Bold, blue eyes, slender body, beautiful legs and great fucking heels. It’s not that she bothers me, her looks I mean. I’ve always been the less attractive one of Beth and me.

  It’s not that she’s so stunning I should feel intimidated. It’s the fact that she stands so closely to Griffin in the photo of him shaking hands with some men at the agreement meeting. It’s the caption that makes my insides freeze and stop beating.

  The caption reads: CEO of Boyd Enterprises, Griffin Boyd, lands a great deal with Quarter Banking in San Diego, California.

  I should be proud of him for this. He’s proud of his work, happy about something so big. But… I’m not. Because that woman is looking right at him, and standing shoulder to shoulder.

  I’m certain that’s admiration in her eyes. There is nothing that mentions her. No name, but she looks important to his job. He never told me he was working with a woman… he never said anything about it. I’m sure I would remember such a thing.

  That’s not the only thing taking me completely off guard—what’s making my heart double in speed. It’s the fact that he was in San Diego with her… during that rainy night when he couldn’t get home. He stayed, and he didn’t respond to my rant of a text message.

  He was probably with her… celebrating. Drinking… and we all know drinking leads to anonymous actions.

  My throat hurts when I swallow. I click through his website, hoping I don’t see her anymore and, luckily, I don’t.

  I should stop, but I can’t.

  Like a fool, I venture through his emails and when I come across the name Angelina Clark… my heart skids to a stop. Angelina… Angel. A coincidence, I think, that is until I read the emails from just last night.

  Intimate emails.

  Hotel name and room number type of emails.

  Slowly, I back my face away from the screen, unable to blink, unable to speak. I knew he didn’t go to work, but I was hoping deep down that he hadn’t run off and done something stupid either.

  “Ah, my sweet fucking angel.”

  My sweet.

  Fucking.

  Angel.

  He said those words to me… only, he wasn’t picturing me. It was her… it was all her. So this is why he’s been acting strange. This is why he’s stopped caring so much.

  Those words haunt me, making my brain rattle, my pulse stutter. I lift a hand and cover my mouth, and the first thing that hits me is rage. I close out the tabs and the Internet, leaving it the way it was, and I have the urge to destroy his office, break everything in sight… but I don’t.

  That will leave too much proof.

  Instead, I storm back out, and I’m glad our living room is so big and that Arianna is still vacuuming because when I make it back into my study, the first thing I grab is the canvas. I slam it across my knee, tossing the remains at the nearest wall.

  Heatedly, I snatch books off the shelf, throw paintbrushes at the window, snap the legs of my easel in half. By the time I’m done, my hands are bleeding, and my body is on fucking fire.

  I pant unevenly, seething, blood dripping on the rug as I focus on the window ahead. I wish I could jump out right now, end it all. I wish that things were like before. I wish I didn’t give a fuck… but I do.

  God, I hate my emotions.

  Why does this keep happening?

  Why can’t I just stop feeling?

  Why can’t I just stay cold…?

  My husband… my sweet, adoring, patient husband of seven years has cheated on me for the first time.

  The first time, I know, because he’s never shown signs like this. He’s never lost interest in me so quickly, no matter how much I’ve turned him down, and even when he does he always tries again. I always give enough to keep him interested and entertained.

  Griffin… my god, I’ve lost Griffin. My Griffin.

  After all these years, he’s gone.

  Off fucking another woman behind my back

  A stunning woman named Angelina Clark.

  And what’s worse is that I can’t tell anyone… I can’t because this… this will destroy my existence. This will end my life as I know it. This is fucking insane… but I know what to do.

  Two can play at this game.

  I will not lose Griffin to that bitch.

  I will have to die first before that even comes close to happening.

  TWENTY TWO

  Griffin

  * * *

  Good thing I had some clothes to pick up from dry cleaning.

  I had Kelly pick them up for me and stopped by my office very briefly to occupy the loft in my building.

  I took care of myself, and then, with the contract Angelina sent me, I went to visit my best friend, Gabriel Adams.

  Now, I’m here, sitting across the desk from him, watching as he does that annoying tapping noise on the desk with his pen.

  He flips through the pages of the contract, and with each one his brows further crease, proving to me that something isn’t right.

  I don’t want to believe something is wrong because I’ve handed Angelina my trust, but after stepping out of that hotel, peeling back the sunroof of my car, and allowing in some fresh air, I realized that I was out of my fucking mind.

  I was about to agree to something, sign it just because I wanted to keep her pussy afloat. I was going to cave for that girl, and I thank God I didn’t sign it in front of her.

  I’m glad I said I would wait it out. By the look on my friend and lawyer’s face, I now know that I was wise not to share my business so willingly.

  Sighing, Gabriel lowers the papers in front of him, and after studying the last page once more, his brown eyes shift up to meet mine. “Well, it’s a damn good thing you didn’t sign this before coming to me,” he says, placing both the paper and his pen down.

  I sit forward in my chair, one brow cocked. “Why do you say that?”

  “Well, it seems pretty legit. It’s all been worded nicely, to the point that you wouldn’t read over it twice…”

  “But?”

  “But, and I’m sorry to tell you this, Griffin, the Clarks aren’t just trying to share. They are trying to get in closer, and soon, they will take what’s yours and own you.”

  I narrow my eyes. “What would make you assume that?”

  “Oh, I’m not assuming anything.” He grabs his pen and underlines a few lines, then he slides it across the table and I focus on him before snatching it up. He watches me as I read over the three lines. It is something I wouldn’t have thought twice about.

  Basically, what it states is that after two years, all of my stock businesses that run well on Wall Street, like Dow Jones Industrial Average and NASDAQ and even Quarter Banking, will be assigned contracts to Clark. Meaning, they will no longer come to me to be their way maker, their deal settler.

  The companies will go to Clark, and they will most likely sign contracts, which will put them in a position of never seeking my help again.

  Losing assets that big will leave me practically broke. There are other companies like Apple and Samsung, but they aren’t as big as these. The people that work with NASDAQ and DJIA are pretty loyal to me.

  They have trusted me for years because I spent years in New York gaining it, and when I finally got my business going, they came running into my arms, seeking my help, pretty much tossing me their money just so I could negotiate and make ways for them.

  “Wow,” I breathe. I can’t believe she would do this to me. Angelina… she said things would be the same as they are now, and I guess she was partially correct because things would have been fine… but only for two years, as the contracts states.

  I slump back in my chair, staring wide-eyed at the papers. I was almost served a cold, hard dish of bullshit, all because of
some tight, young pussy that stole my common sense away.

  This is what I get. This is exactly what I get for stepping out of line.

  I drop the papers on the desk and stand, whipping out my cellphone. “What are you doing?” Gabriel asks, pushing out of his chair.

  “Calling the Clarks. They think they can set some shit like this up and expect me to fall for it?” My head shakes, heat tunneling through my veins.

  Gabriel walks around the desk and when he meets in front of me, he grabs my arm, forcing my hand down. “Hold on now, Griffin. Think about this. They don’t know that you haven’t signed, but I’m guessing they think you will? That you assured them of it?”

  “Yes,” I snap.

  “Why on God’s green earth would you agree to some shit like that? Sharing your business? You have never shared a thing in your life—nothing like this!”

  I pull my eyes away from his, focusing on my cellphone. I can feel him trying to catch my eye, but it only takes several seconds for him to catch on.

  “Oh... Holy shit? A woman? There’s a woman, am I right?”

  I look up, but don’t respond. My look of blatancy is enough to answer him with.

  “Griffin… you’re telling me that you—that you cheated… on Colette?”

  “Don’t even put it that way, Gabriel. You and I both know Colette has been done with me for years. She’s over me. She doesn’t love me anymore. The only reason we’re still in this together is because of that fucking contract—which would have been broken by me if I’d signed that shit.” I point back with my thumb at Angelina’s full-of-shit contract.

  “No, listen… this is good.” He holds his hands up, remaining patient with me, completely ignoring the fact that I’ve had an actual affair. “They don’t suspect anything. If that woman’s goal was to seduce you into signing, it means she’s confident… comfortable around you. And you are—well, were comfortable around her. Am I right?”

  “Yes,” I mutter, walking around him and dropping down on his sofa.

  “Right, so since they wanted to pull one over on you, how about we hand them back what they’ve just tried to dish out?”

  I frown. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean I will write up a quick contract, one that looks similar to what she has created. They want to play dirty, oh, we’ll show them dirty. All she has to do is sign, which she will because her signature is needed too.”

  “Okay… I’m intrigued.” I sit forward. “What exactly will the contract say?”

  “It will have all the same words, but the little holes she tried to toss in there, I can change them. I will write it up fast, a quick copy and paste. Won’t take me too long. What she won’t realize is that what she’s signing is an agreement to pay up over fifty percent of what the Clark business makes… which means more money for you, and you will always have an eye on their accounts.”

  “Their accounts? How?”

  He shrugs, pride masking his emotions. “I can toss that in there too. I’m telling you, I will have it look exactly like hers. And the best part,” he says, grinning so hard I think his face might break, “is that she can’t sue. She won’t be able to because this is a binding contract. We have a copy of hers and I’ll file it, and if she ever tries to take this to court, she’ll know we will win. She’ll know because we’ll have a copy of her contract. Her lies. Her deceit. Yes, if it goes to court you’ll have to testify about the affair, but I’m certain it won’t go that far because she’s not foolish enough to lose everything over this measly contract. Imagine if word got out that she tried to sleep her way to the top. Their company would be ruined.”

  I look Gabriel over, stunned by his wicked wisdom. This guy isn’t my best friend for no reason. He’s my best friend because he’s a fucking genius, and he gets me out of trouble every single time I make a mistake.

  “This is good,” I murmur, standing again. “Really good. How soon do you think you can get the contract back to me?”

  He shrugs. “By tonight, I’m sure. If not then, no later than tomorrow morning.”

  I nod. “Good. That works for me. She’ll wait here as long as I have the contract.”

  “In the meantime, try not to ignore her. I know you’re probably pissed about this, I would be too, but she needs to know you’re not onto her or her lawyer will revoke the contract, meaning that as long as it isn’t signed, they have the right to pull it from their records and demolish it’s proof. Our copy could look like a sham. A hoax. But, if you hand them the new contract signed, the girl will rush to file it, no questions asked. It will be on file then and it can’t be revoked because it will be considered a legal and certified contract.”

  “How are you so sure?” I question, side-eyeing him.

  “Griffin, I’ve been doing this all my life,” he laughs. “Trust me, this will be handled.”

  I smirk at him, making my way towards his door. Gripping the doorknob, I say, “Well, just make sure you get it to me as soon as possible. In the meantime I’ll try to occupy her.” I pause on twisting the doorknob, narrowing my eyes back at him. “If you’re so damn good at what you do, why the hell can’t you find me a loop in Jenkins’s contract?”

  He holds his hands out in an innocent state and shrugs. “I’ve read that thing forwards and backwards. The man has some pretty strong, smart lawyers. Trying to challenge it will only make you lose everything, Griffin.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” I mumble, pulling the door ajar. “I’ve heard that one over and over again.”

  “Hey,” he calls, and I pause. “What’s the girls name anyway, if you don’t mind me asking?”

  I sigh, and with defeat, I say, “Angelina Clark. But don’t get used to it. Her name won’t be of much use after this is over.”

  * * *

  I intentionally work all day, though I can’t exactly concentrate.

  During my three conference meetings this afternoon and this morning I kept spacing out, leaving Kelly to fill in answers for me and then later on ask me if I was okay.

  I told him that I am okay, but now I regret being absentminded so many times because this is his fourth time coming into my office to ask me something pointless. I know all he’s really doing is checking up on me.

  Without me, he has no boss, which means he has no job. No one else will hire Kelly because he’s extremely eccentric.

  He holds extraordinary respect for me, and I him, but I think only I would accept his revolving hair color, his hoop nose piercing, and his painted nails.

  I find him unique. Not only that, but he reminds me of my baby brother, Walter, who just so happens to be on the flamboyant side too.

  I take no offense to him or Kelly because, ironically, they have bigger balls than me for being so proud of who they really are.

  “Would you like me to get you some coffee or anything, sir?” Kelly asks from the door. “I was just going to take my lunch break. I can run and grab you a cup.”

  He folds his fingers in front of him, somewhat edgy.

  “Uh, yeah… sure, Kelly. That’d be great. Thanks.” He nods and walks out of the room, shutting my door behind him.

  When he’s gone, I sigh and sit back in my seat, spinning around and facing the open window. The same window Angelina stared out of pretty much the whole time she was in my office the very first day I met her.

  I can’t believe her, and right now I don’t know whether I should consider her one clever-ass woman, or one audacious, backstabbing bitch.

  My hand comes to my chin and I fold my fingers into a fist, resting my elbow on the arm of the chair. My hand keeps my head upright, and I try to fight the shadow of gloom cloaking my emotions, but I can’t.

  I thought she was different.

  Better.

  A little more considerate than the woman I deal with at home on a daily basis, but I think I’d much rather deal with a neglectful woman than a woman that will place a dagger in my back without thinking of how I’d feel.

  My computer makes a ch
iming noise.

  An email.

  I turn in my seat and spot Angelina’s name now on the screen.

  * * *

  Angelina Clark: I think you should come again tonight. That would be really nice.

  * * *

  I don’t respond for a while. How can she be so playful? How she can still try and fuck is beyond me. I respond an hour later to make it seem like I’m busy.

  * * *

  Griffin Boyd: I wish I could. Lots of work with this new client. As soon as I can grab a slot of free time, have her ready for me.

  * * *

  It takes everything in me not to delete my last sentence. She doesn’t deserve my cock. Not anymore.

  * * *

  Angelina Clark: Oh, I will. Whatever you want, right?

  * * *

  Griffin Boyd: Right. Whatever I want. Always whatever I want.

  * * *

  But is it?

  Something tells me it has never been about what I truly want—that this whole time it has been all about her and no one else.

  * * *

  I arrive home a little after midnight, physically and mentally worn.

  All I want to do is take a hot shower and sleep my terrible bad day off. I walk up the staircase, briefcase clutched in hand. I normally leave it in the kitchen, but I’m so fucking tired that I can’t even think straight.

  I turn and enter the bedroom, dropping my briefcase in the corner.

  “Colette?” I call.

  The bathroom door is closed, a spill of light seeping through the cracks of the door. Her study’s light wasn’t on when I passed by the door. She must be in here.

  “Yes?” she responds from behind the door.

  “Just seeing if you were around.” I undo my tie, tossing it on the arm of the chair in the corner of the room.