Scrooge McFuck (Some Girls Do It Book 2)

by May Sage

  “I’m not saying a word. But keep your phone close; you might have to break me out of jail.”

  On that cheerful note, her best friend disappeared, leaving a faint scent of Dior Cherie and two amused ladies in the small flat, the youngest one of whom said, “I wanna be her when I grow up.”

  Piper daydreamed about doing something involving counterfeit keys, laxatives, hair dye, and McFuck. She was quite sincere when she replied, “Well, that does make two of us.”

  Bennet

  Monday was nothing short of painful, filled with the longing that hadn’t left him since he’d touched her hand, spiced up by the hint of intrigue his mother had knowingly sprinkled on top. Ben lasted all of three hours before he had to get out of the office.

  He wanted to fire Piper so damn bad, and if she’d been anyone else, he would have, too. But after she went to cry to her daddy about it, his father was bound to ask what had happened and what was he supposed to say? He could lie, he could pretend her performance wasn’t up to par, but that kind of statement would forever affect her in her professional life. Even he wasn’t that much of a bastard. Besides, she’d probably slap him with a lawsuit so quick he’d get dizzy.

  His only option was to rein himself in, and ignore her.

  He wasn’t a cheat, dammit. But every minute he spent near her made him feel like one. His thoughts betrayed Jennifer, if nothing else did. It might just have been her hand he’d touched last Friday, but he’d caressed it with his thumb to feel her soft skin, and he’d wanted more. That was the kind of contact a man of honor only had with one woman, and he’d determined that the woman should be Jennifer Smith, not Piper Stone.

  He blew Jennifer off when she’d called the previous night, not feeling up to seeing her; not when all he saw was dark curls and a fake, professional smile. Not when he wondered what Piper wore outside of the office, what she had underneath her prim and proper suit, what she looked like when she came undone under a man’s touch.

  By morning he had his head on straight; he intended to get in, do his job, and interact with her normally, like CEO to employee.

  The damn woman came in in what was undoubtedly her sexiest attire: a grey, woolen high waisted pencil skirt, and a loose blouse that did nothing to hide her impressive rack. The jacket didn’t help either, given the fact that it was hanging at the back of her seat.

  He inwardly groaned as his eyes took in the ample breasts, the slim waist, the wide hips and the endless, toned legs.

  Damn it. Damn her.

  She got up as she did most mornings, turning around towards the break room where she made coffee when he arrived.

  Holy fuck. He bit the inside of his cheeks, salivating over the pear-shaped ass he wanted to squeeze and bite.

  So yeah. At eleven, he was barking excuses and calling the couple of friends he had on his speed-dial for an impromptu brunch.

  Wayne, Devon and Patrick were busy men, to say the least. The first owned and operated his own company, the second was a sought-after surgeon, and the last was the CFO of an up and coming toy company he’d founded with his best friend. There must have been something quite desperate in his tone, because by the time he’d made it to their rendezvous point, they were all waiting for him, beers at the ready.

  There was his very definition of real friendship: The willingness to drop everything to go daydrink in a dive when a pal was in need.

  Their looks ranged from curiosity - from two of them - to worry - unsurprisingly coming from the Doctor.

  “Chill, Dev. I’m not going to have a heart attack.”

  He didn’t think he would, in any case.

  As soon as he’d sat down, a couple of waitresses armed with trays came to their table, bearing burgers and a lot of dressings; the guys had ordered for him, of course.

  Eleven thirty was perhaps a little early for what they were doing, but when he caught the scent of greasy beef, he felt like he needed it more than air.

  As they were men, they devoured the pile of food in front of them before they exchanged another word. As they were civilized ones, they did so using knives and forks. Mostly.

  “Okay - not that I don’t appreciate the break, but what got your knickers in a twist?”

  That came from Wayne, always the most impatient one of them. Wayne’s priorities revolved around his business, and whatever skirt he could get under - not always in that order. He was a good pal, and he would have moved Heaven and Hell for them - particularly for Devon - but there was no doubt, right then, that he was counting the seconds until he could return behind his desk, or under his secretary. Both, more than likely.

  Ben felt awkward, but for his sanity, he had to speak; and he knew that no judgement would come from his friends. Still. It was strange, to be the one in need of guidance; he was known as the one with his shit together - the others came to him.

  “There’s…a woman.” He swallowed a swing of beer, before adding, “I can’t get her out of my mind.”

  He wasn’t sure what he expected - teasing, perhaps, laughter, definitely. The three men around the table just nodded their assents, as if they knew exactly what he was on about.

  “Wait, you guys too?”

  They all exchanged glances, and Devon was the first to go, pointing at Wayne.

  “My problem is his secretary.”

  “Assistant,” Wayne corrected automatically. Then, he added, “My problem is one of his friends. A volunteer at his hospital.”

  He almost sneered the word volunteer, making it sound like an insult.

  “Well,” Trick admitted, “Carter’s assistant just dyed my hair red. And made me shit all weekend. So yes, I’d say I have an issue with her.”

  From his tone and the fierce look in his eyes, his issue wasn’t just a handful of pranks.

  “Wait, you were ginger?”

  “I dyed it back,” he hissed. “Moving on. Ben called this meeting. It means his situation is more problematic than ours, at the moment. Let’s hear it.”

  So, Ben said it all - he explained about Piper, not leaving out any part of her sinful body, or what came out of her sassy mouth. Then, because none of his friends seemed to see what his issue was, he was so good as to remind them of the existence of Jennifer, whom they’d met twice.

  They exchanged the look, which pissed him off. He was normally in on the look, understanding what it was all about. Today, he came in blank.

  “What?”

  Unsurprisingly, it was Wayne again who enlightened him. Being in a hurry made him the bluntest one of the lot.

  “Well, Jennifer isn’t exactly Mrs. McFinnley material. I mean, she’s attractive enough, and not dumb. But…you’ve just told us all about that Piper. Let’s have it. Tell us why Jennifer is perfect for you.”

  Ben opened his mouth to claim that this line of questioning was ridiculous, but sometime between the minute when he decided to defend his girlfriend and the next, he shut it. Because he’d started actually asking himself that question. And he found nothing.

  “Jennifer is…” he trailed off, intending to find a few qualities unrelated to the length of her legs.

  But his eyes caught something and the next instant, he was turning around, and falling on his ass. Or he would have, if he hadn’t already been seated.

  Bennet

  Miriam. She’d appeared out of the blue like a ghost from his past. He couldn’t believe his eyes; five years had gone by without him seeing her, and there she was, as gorgeous and perfect as ever. Except…

  His mouth gapped open, and stayed that way. His hands grabbed hold of his arm rest, firmly squeezing it.

  “What’s the matter with you?”

  Ben was usually one to keep his emotions in check, but they must have been written on his face, right now. Disbelief. Anger.

  He felt cheated, betrayed, and confused, too.

  There was a man with his arm around Miriam’s back, herding her towards a table. She was smiling up at him, like he was the best thing in the world. He couldn
’t ever remember her looking at him this way. None of that mattered, not even the two sets of rings on her fingers. What he couldn’t deal with was her engorged stomach; she was rubbing it absentmindedly, tenderly.

  “Ah.”

  That was all Trick had to say. There was no surprise in his tone. Ben turned to him, growling accusingly, “You knew.”

  “That she was pregnant, or married?”

  He just narrowed his eyes.

  “Of course I knew. She’s part of the crowd, you know how it is. We all gossip.”

  Ben did know how it was, which was why after withdrawing from his old friends when Miriam had broken up with him, he’d never gone back to them, realizing how shallow and meaningless their relationships were. They were “friends” because they’d gone to the same swimming lessons in gold trimmed pools. Trick had been an exception, for one simple reason: contrary to anyone else, he’d reached out to him, asking how he was. He cared. He was made of different stuff – substance.

  “And you haven’t told me, because?”

  “Because we’re friends.”

  Ben bit his retort back; considering the strength of his reaction, he understood Trick’s point. He was angry now; a few months, a few years before, he would probably have flown off his seat and killed the man who touched his…

  His what?

  Six years ago

  “Hey handsome.”

  Ben looked up from his computer, and down again.

  Miriam, in a dark dress. She was pretty today.

  “You aren’t ready yet?”

  He frowned, typing out the rest of his email, before glancing up. “Ready for what?”

  She smiled and shook her head. “My parent’s anniversary. Come on, we’re going to be late.”

  He frowned again, checking his calendar; he hadn’t noticed any event when he’d looked in the morning, but there it was, just before his phone call to Japan.

  “Okay,” he said, reluctantly getting up, “I’ll get changed.”

  He had five hours before going back to work; might as well occupy them with something.

  The dinner was so boring, Ben was relieved to have to excuse himself by dessert. For some reason, he caught on that Miriam had been displeased when he announced his intention to return to work, probably assuming that he’d invented a nonexistent assignment just to get out of the tedious affair.

  Truth was, he would have, if he hadn’t been busy. Anyone under forty had already gone off.

  “Do you need a lift?” he asked, and she looked at him in sheer disbelief.

  The next day, she was packing her things and moving back to her parents.

  He understood how he might have crossed her that night, of course; Miriam was close to her family. The fact that they were a lot of pompous, self-important, unbearably arrogant lazy asses still living off the hard work of their ancestors didn’t bother her as much as it bothered him; she was used to it. Perhaps even proud of it. But throwing away a three-year relationship in one evening? That, he didn’t understand.

  And there she was, half a decade later, dining in a dive with a man who looked like a blue collar. Pregnant. It just didn’t compute.

  The urge to get up and demand an explanation was itching at him, but he restrained himself. Shouting at ladies in her condition wasn’t the done thing.

  “He’s a builder,” Trick filled in. “Owns his own company, but of course he isn’t worth nearly as much as her. It made a little wave when she went off and married him.”

  A builder. A fucking builder!

  Ben’s fists were clenched, his teeth grinding, his eyes throwing daggers at their backs, until he managed to look away.

  “Should we be on our way?” Wayne proposed, wisely.

  They left enough cash to cover four times their bill, and went off. Ben was glad to say Miriam turned just in time to see him walk away. He felt like shouting, punching a wall, throwing a spiteful line about the fact that she’d been a boring lay. Instead, he took a clue out of Piper Stone’s book, and sent her the most condescending smile in the universe, relaying indifference, and contempt.

  “Are you alright, man?” Devon asked when they were out in the open air, concern evident on his face.

  Ben nodded wordlessly. He was alright - he was good, in fact. Coming here had served a purpose. It had reminded him what happened when one person took a relationship carelessly; the other one broke.

  He wouldn’t do that to Jennifer. She didn’t deserve it. From now on, he’d treat Piper Stone like any other employee under him, with a polite indifference. He was done getting under her skin, and hopefully, eventually she’d stop getting under his.

  He spent the rest of the day with Wayne, using the fact that they were business associates to pretend that he had a reason to visit, when in fact, he was just avoiding Piper, and trying to get his head on straight.

  Meeting his personal assistant, Ben suddenly understood Devon’s problem; the girl was hot. Jesus, what was it with attractive office staff? Why didn’t they just go off to become models or pop singers, dammit?

  Still, to his surprise and his relief, his eyes didn’t linger on her, he didn’t imagine what it was like to touch her skin, her hair, her lips. His inner resolution had obviously worked: he wasn’t acting like a horny teenager anymore.

  But just as he congratulated himself on his maturity, he found himself imagining Piper’s delicate neck. Her scent. Her smile - the real one. The one so beautiful and sincere he hated her for having it; and for never sending it to him.

  Dammit.

  Feeling confused, and angry, he left Devon’s office and headed to the building shedding the newspaper where Jennifer worked.

  They didn’t see each other enough - that was the real issue. He spent at least nine hours a day in Piper’s company, against perhaps five a week with Jennifer. A little more, if he counted the time they spent sleeping.

  A pleasant receptionist, suitably plain, greeted him at the entrance of the magazine.

  “I’m here to see Jennifer Smith.”

  Her smile stilled, but she professionally gave him directions to her floor.

  Ben’s eyes narrowed, trying to work out why the woman’s pleasing demeanor had suddenly changed. He knew people - his profession demanded it. She had an issue with Jennifer.

  As it was none of his business, Ben nodded his thanks and went up the elevator, wondering if he should have brought some flowers with him. He dismissed the idea; it wasn’t his style, nor Jennifer’s, for that matter. Flowers were useless, perishable.

  Ben dismissed the image of Piper arranging a bouquet in the lobby. He’d tell her to stop wasting money on those the very next day.

  The receptionist of the sixth floor was a pretty, young brunette, and she confused him even further, by showing the exact same reaction when he mentioned the purpose of his visit.

  Alright, enough was enough.

  “May I ask- is Jennifer…” he weighed his words carefully, whispering conspiringly to make her want to share, “easy to work with?”

  The girl giggled, like he’d just said the most amusing thing she’d heard in 2016.

  “Jennifer Smith? She’s the opposite. Gets everyone in the office to do her bidding, even the rest of the reporters. She got Mimi Denver fired last month because she wouldn’t fetch her coffee.”

  Ben felt like a bucket of cold water had been thrown at his face. He was an ass, but even he wasn’t the kind of person who’d do that - or he would have fired Piper long ago, just because he could.

  He tried to recall something - anything - in Jennifer’s behavior that would prove she was incapable of such things… but he came up with nothing. She was a cut-throat go-getter; two things he admired; when they were paired with honesty, and followed the rules of the game. Beating a competitor? Sure; he did it any given day. Getting a person canned for no good reason was another story.

  “Really? But how could she get someone fired; she’s just a columnist, right?”

  The pretty r
eceptionist with a name tag introducing her as Hanna moved closer to him, and said in a half whisper, “It helps to sleep with the editor in chief.”

  Piper

  She had some theories about Bennet’s change of behavior of late. The most likely of which involved alien abduction, doppelganger and mind control.

  The boss was tiptoeing around her. Seriously, tiptoeing. And when he did address her, he sounded unsure, hesitant, and… approachable. None of these terms defined the Scrooge McFuck she loved to hate.

  She’d always been confident, entering the office knowing exactly what to expect - but today, she was cautious, not daring to say a word that might disrupt the uneasy peace.

  He hadn’t asked, but she brought him a coffee after her break - he always wanted one whenever she came in close contact with a coffee maker, which was probably proof that he was human - at least partially.

  “Thank you, Piper.”

  What. The. Fuck.

  Thank you, plus her name. This was the first time she’d heard him say any of that.

  That was it. He was dying. He’d had a call from the doctor, telling him that he only had a week to live on his lunch break yesterday.

  “Can I ask you a question?”

  She nodded numbly, taking in another completely unlikely behavior. He normally just said what the hell he wanted to.

  “How do you choose a man? What makes you think, this is the guy I’m going to pick. His looks, the depth of his pockets?”

  She might have been offended if he didn’t genuinely seem curious, as well as a little lost. Oh. Trouble in Paradise. Jennifer and he might have had an issue of sorts.

  Piper shook her head.

  “My husband has no money - he had even less when we got married. He isn’t bad looking, but I know men who are more handsome,” like you, she didn’t add. “I guess I picked him because he charmed me. Said all the right things. Paid attention to me.”