~Aaron~
The next few days at work were hectic. I’d been out of New York for two weeks, and while my manager had done a decent job keeping the company running, there were still matters that demanded my attention. Stacks of paperwork, endless calls, and back-to-back meetings left me no room to breathe.
That was one of the reasons I hadn’t reached out to Joan-no texts, no calls, nothing since that night. Not after she’d turned me into a wreck. I’d only just realized the kind of power she had over me, and knowing Joan, she probably didn’t even realize it herself.
The intercom buzzed, dragging me out of my thoughts. I glanced up from the file in front of me, already irritated by the interruption.
“Sorry to disturb you, sir,” Brooklyn, the intern, said through the speaker. “But there’s a lady here asking to see you.”
I frowned. “Does she have an appointment?”
“No, sir. But she says she’s someone you’d want to see.”
Before I could respond, I heard her voice faintly in the background. “Can I go up now?”
My mood soured immediately. Angelina.
I exhaled sharply, pushing my hair back from my face. “No. Don’t let her in. I’m busy. Cancel the rest of my schedule too.”
“Yes, sir,” Brooklyn replied hesitantly, but I didn’t bother responding. I ended the call, letting out a long breath as I sank back into my chair. I really needed a haircut.
Angelina could do whatever she wanted, but she wasn’t coming in here. When I told her we were done, I meant it.
Clearly, that wasn’t a word she understood anymore. The media would catch wind of our breakup soon, but I didn’t care. She loved the spotlight; she could have it all to herself now.
I flipped the file closed, already done for the day. God, I was tired. My phone was on the desk, buzzing faintly, tempting me to lose myself in something else for a few minutes.
There was a message from Rhoda waiting.
Baby Sis: You unfroze my accounts. Thanks for that.
I didn’t bother replying. Unfreezing her accounts didn’t mean anything had changed. She was still on probation. One wrong step, and she’d lose it all again.
I opened the burner social media account I’d set up a while ago, scrolling through to check on my sister-and, of course, Joan.
Joan, the woman who had decided to keep the blonde hair, despite my opinion. It wasn’t as though she didn’t look good with it-she did-but it wasn’t her.
Her red hair had always felt like a part of her, and now, with every new change, it was like she was trying to be someone else entirely.
I typed her name into the search bar, and her profile popped up immediately. A couple of new photos greeted me, one she’d uploaded just a few hours ago.
She definitely wouldn’t believe who was stalking her.
She had a bright smile on her face, the freckles on her nose catching the light. Her dimple peeked out, too, the one I could never stop staring at. She was holding a drink, lounging on a beach.
But it wasn’t just her smile or the beach that caught my attention. She’d dyed her hair again. This time, it was black.
I stared at the photo, my jaw tightening as I scrolled further. I hated to admit it, but she looked incredible. Sexy. My mind wandered, imagining how it would feel to wrap that black hair around my fist while I filled her mouth with my cock.
My body tightened at the thought and my pants had just a little space.
I doubled tap the picture and a little love flitted across the screen before disappearing. Oh well, I’d liked the picture.
If I was lucky, she wouldn’t notice it.
I continued scrolling, then I stopped at a picture that made my blood boil. She was standing beside some guy, his arm wrapped around her waist.
She wore a bikini, her body glowing under the sunlight. His eyes weren’t on the camera. No, they were glued to her chest. Lust was written all over his face, clear as day.
Jealousy clawed at my chest, hot and sharp. I hated him already, whoever he was. Stranger or not, I could tell what he wanted, and it made me sick.
Just as I was about to scroll further, a text from Joan popped up.
Red Fiery Witch: Are you stalking my Instagram?
I froze, staring at the message. How did she even know it was me? Maybe it was the username-AA wasn’t exactly subtle.
I didn’t deny it.
Who’s the guy in the picture?
Her reply came quickly.
Fiery Red Witch: So you finally agree to stalking my Instagram?
I clenched my jaw. She was dodging the question.
I asked a question, kitten.
Fiery Red Witch: Sorry, I won’t be answering because it’s none of your goddamn business.
I groaned. She could be so infuriating sometimes.
Where are you?
I stood up, grabbing the suit jacket draped over my chair. My phone buzzed again.
Fiery Red Witch: Some of us actually have to work to survive, Thompson.
I shook my head, switching off my phone. Her words didn’t matter-I could find her in seconds if I wanted to. It wouldn’t even take me a minute to dig up everything about that guy in the picture, too.
Social media made our work a whole lot easier, since this generation weren’t mindful about digital footprint -my sister and Joan included.
But for now, I just needed to get to Joan.