The Super: A Bad Boy Romance (8 page)

Yeah, maybe I could just show up at his office. That wouldn’t raise any red flags.

Maybe Jess is right and I should just go out and have a one night stand. Drew would have been perfect for that, right? It seemed like all he wanted was a one night stand, too, something to take his mind off all the crap going on in his life.

Go back to his old ways. Love ‘em, leave ‘em. Hit and run.

I think about his arms embracing me, his lips brushing lightly against mine. That mouth was so kissable. Those eyes so deep. I even wonder what is going on below the belt. With all the women he’s been with, I can’t imagine he would be at all lacking in that department, either.

Or maybe it really was just about the money for all those girls. And the power. Money is power, at least in this city, isn’t it? And power can be extremely attractive. Sexy. It can draw you in.

But he’s an asshole. He’s arrogant. He was too self-assured when we met on Friday. Even if he’s self-made, things come too easy for men like him. Whatever turmoil he’s been through in his life, and whatever family issues he had growing up, maybe it’s made him a little bit messed up.

But it’s not like I have to be the woman who sees all of that, sees through him to the real man inside the suit. I’m not going to change him.

Even if I shouldn’t judge him, it’s not like I have to jump into bed with him.

But it’s not like I would let that happen. Not with Drew. He’s too hot, too charming, too charismatic for me not to get my feelings hurt.

I’m jolted out of my thoughts of Drew Anderson with a few rapid, urgent knocks at the door.

I peek through the peephole and open the door again for Jess.

“That was fast,” I say, taking my foil-wrapped sandwich from her.

“Um, you didn’t tell me there was a Drew Anderson look-alike who
works
in your building.”

“What? Who?”

“There’s an incredibly hot guy who looks just like Drew dressed in an old work shirt and jeans.”

“No, that’s not right. The guy you saw must be a tenant. The only people who work in the building are older guys. The super and the owner. They’re both old. You’d never confuse either of them for Drew Anderson.”

“Well, it doesn’t matter who he is, he looks just like Drew. You have to go out there and talk to him.”

“I’ve had enough snooping and spying for one weekend.”

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing.”

We dig into our sandwiches and I wonder why the super still hasn’t gotten back to me.

This isn’t so bad. I could actually get used to this. No Eric following me around asking me a million questions. No calls constantly blowing up my work phone.

Not bad at all.

I plop down on the pull-out sofa against the far wall of the main living area. It’s a studio apartment and it reminds me of the attic at Mom’s house. I turn on the TV, put my phone on silent, and put my feet up on the coffee table.

Not bad.

Maybe Eric’s right. I should go out and get laid. My mind wanders, and I keep going back to the girl I met on Friday night.

She was just so cute and sexy, all at the same time. She wasn’t trying so hard, like all the other girls at the bar, all the other girls I’ve been with. She seemed to be the complete opposite of Clarissa, which is exactly what I need.

A palette cleanser. Something that would remind me not every girl is a cheater. That there are still a few honest women left in this city.

My cock struggles against the inside of my jeans, begging to be set free.

It’s too bad I’ll probably never see her again. I’ve squandered my opportunity, and I kick myself for not insisting she give me her number. And if she refused, I’d just ask to see her phone and put my number in it myself. I’d done it dozens of times and it has an 80% success rate. Eric did the math once.

She’d have called me. She wouldn’t have been able to help herself.

I guess that’s just the way shit goes sometimes.

I get up and look around the place. Even though the apartment is technically in the basement, on the other side of the door leading outside there’s a little patio and a staircase leading up to the sidewalk, and a large window next to the back door to let in some natural light. It could almost pass for a first-floor apartment, even though the view outside the window is of people’s feet. I look out and come face-to-face with a roly-poly English Bulldog and a pair of men’s basketball sneakers.

The kitchen is modest but upgraded. A nice stove and refrigerator, but the fridge and cabinets aren’t stocked with anything besides a few cans of soup and old packets of soy sauce.

The bathroom’s nice too. New, white tile and stainless steel fixtures. I can see that Rich has good taste. Reminds me of the bathroom I designed for my and Eric’s office space.

I go back into the living room. I could do this for a couple of weeks. It would be great. Perfect, even. Just far enough away from everything to clear my mind, and close enough that I can get back in the action at a moment’s notice.

A phone rings, and I search for the landline. That definitely isn’t the sound of my cell phone, and I can’t believe there’s an actual landline in this place. People in Brooklyn still use landlines? At least the guy probably has one of the old 718 area codes.

I find the phone and put the receiver to my ear.

“Hello?”

“Hey! Oh, wow, okay, I’m so glad I got you,” a young woman speaks sweetly into the phone. “There’s a little bit of an issue in my apartment. Can you come take a look at it?”

The voice on the other end of the phone sounds a bit familiar, but I can’t place where it’s from. It’s a kind voice, with just a hint of nervousness. She sounds like a typical 20-something girl, but with just the slightest Brooklyn accent, something you don’t hear very often anymore.

“Of course. I’d be very happy to help you out today, ma’am. Apartment number?”

I chuckle to myself. I’m really embracing this super thing, aren’t I?

“4-A.”

“Very good. I’ll be up in about 20 minutes.”

“Thank you! I really appreciate it.”

I’m not sure why I tell her I’ll be there in 20 minutes. It’ll only take me a minute or two to find Rich’s maintenance supplies and climb the stairs to the fourth floor. Maybe I want to sweat her out. Make her wait a little.

Overall, the building is in very good shape. It certainly looks better than my mom’s house, and I can see that Rich takes pride in his building. I’m sure the issue in this girl’s apartment won’t take more than twenty minutes to deal with.

I get to the fourth floor and take my time getting to apartment 4-A. I knock on the door and hear two women’s voices behind it, chattering and giggling.

“Who is it?” the woman’s voice from the phone calls out.

“It’s the temporary super.
You
called
me
.”

“Oh, um, just a second!”

“You need to put some clothes on before you let me in?”

I imagine two girls in their bras and panties behind the door, having a pillow fight.

The door swings open.

“Drew?”

How does she know my name? Maybe she keeps up on the gossip blogs or real estate and finance news. It isn’t too hard to imagine that this gorgeous young woman standing in front of me would be up on the latest news about a guy like myself.

But then I take a closer look at her, and between the way she said my name with so much familiarity and her deep brown eyes, I realize it’s the woman from the club.

I stand there, stunned.

I mean, really. If she’s going to be hanging out at one of my usual watering holes, I’d be sure to run into her again. But here? I came out here to get away from everything.

But I’m not complaining.

“At a loss for words? That’s not like you,” she says, pulling the door open all the way and stepping aside.

“Hi...Molly, right?”

She looks so different now, and even better than I remember. She traded in her little suit and heels for a more casual outfit, perfect for staying in on a Sunday afternoon - short shorts and a low-cut tank top. Her tits look perfect, something I couldn’t tell the other night, and her shorts really hug her ass. A messy bun high on her head completes the look, and her cute, heart-shaped face is framed with a few wisps of chestnut brown hair.

It’s not like me to let a woman render me speechless, but the sheer coincidence of the whole thing shakes my body.

“Yes, it’s Molly. And I don’t like the way you
ma’am
ed me on the phone before.”

“Well, now that I’m working for you, that’s what you are. As a tenant in my building, you’re the boss.”

Her friend from the bar is sitting at the kitchen table with a foil wrapper of street meat spilling out onto a paper plate, her eyes wide, a grin slowly starting to replace her open-mouthed expression of surprise.

“Would you care to let us know why a billionaire real estate mogul is fixing a leaky sink in Brooklyn?” she asks after picking her jaw up off the floor.

Of all the buildings in the city, my mom’s friend has to own the one my new object of desire lives in.

“I just wanted to get away from it all for a minute,” I say, making my way past Molly and setting my toolbox down on the kitchen counter.

“And you landed here?” she asks, drumming her fingertips loudly on the kitchen counter.

“Obviously, I couldn’t get you out of my head after I met you on Friday. So I decided to leave it all behind so I could serve your every whim. Clogged drain, leaky faucet, I’m your man. Anything you need.”

“No, quit messing with us. What are you really doing here?” Jess peers, her eyes narrowing on me.

“Like I said, I just wanted to get away from all the drama back home. I’m here hiding out, and like it or not, I’m going to be here for at least a couple of weeks, unless anything drastic happens at the firm.”

The girls look skeptical. Surely they don’t really think I could be stalking them. That would be some certifiably insane shit.

“Well,” Molly says, grabbing a water bottle from the refrigerator and handing it to me, “now that you’re here, maybe you could do your job and take a look at this leak I’m having.”

“You need help with your plumbing? You called the right guy.”

Jess laughs. “Really, with that? You’re a walking cliche!
Plumbing
?” She shoots Molly a quick smile. “But I don’t think she minds.”

Molly slaps a hand over her mouth as if she didn’t get my little joke at first. She doesn’t know how hot she is, which makes her even more beautiful. And she doesn’t know how adorable she is, which makes her even more special.

“So, what seems to be the issue with your plumbing, ma’am? You may not know this about me, but I’m pretty good with this kind of thing.”

“As a matter of fact, I didn’t know that about you. I thought you were all about making deals and impressing the movers and shakers. I didn’t know you would be able to get down in the dirt with the rest of us.”

She shoots a hip out, cocks her head to the side and crosses her arms in front of her, her pretty pink lips drawn up at the corners and forming a little smile.

I can’t take how adorable she is when she gets sarcastic with me.

I sit down on the floor in front of the sink and scoot down a little, getting a clear view of what’s going on beneath the sink.

The girls might think I’m playing a character, but I really am good with maintenance issues.

In high school, I was Mr. Fix-It. It was the combination of my shop and engineering classes that made me the guy to call in case of a loose roof shingle or a clogged gutter.

“Oh, this is a simple fix. I just need to tighten a washer right here, and it’ll be good as new. You were right to call when you did.”

“I was calling all afternoon before I finally got you. Where were you?”

“Woah. We just started dating, and you’re already on my case about not answering my phone?”

“I’m sorry, what? All I did was ask you to come by and take a look at something in the apartment.”

“Don’t act like you’ve been able to think of anything but me since Friday night.”

If her friend wasn’t here, I would be telling her that I know she’s been thinking about my tongue on her body since Friday night. That she probably’s probably masturbated multiple times since then, imagining it was my fingers traveling over her instead of her own, my fingers sinking into her, my mouth and tongue making her say my name.

“You’re unbelievable!” she says, waving her hands in the air, but she doesn’t seem annoyed. Instead, she seems flustered and her cheeks are blushing.

I imagine her beneath me, squirming with pleasure. I already know I can get a rise out of her, take her places and make her feel things she hasn’t before.

“Okay, I’m unbelievable. That’s fine. Can you please hand me the medium-sized wrench in the tool kit?”

“Here,” she says, thrusting it in my direction.

“Okay. This will all be fixed up in just a second.”

I slide out from under the sink when I’m done and prop myself up with an elbow. Molly is still standing over me, the toe of her white sneaker tapping rhythmically against the tile floor.

“Is that all you need for now, ma’am?”

She crosses her arms in front of her chest, but again, that little tug of a smile on the corners of her mouth and the flush in her cheeks tells me more than the rest of her body does.

“That’s all. And don’t call me ma’am. Please.”

“Okay, boss.”

“That either!”

“Whatever you say, baby. Is that better?”

“Better, but still not my first choice.”

I take the water bottle from the counter and drain it down my throat. Molly doesn’t have the air conditioning on in her apartment. She just has the windows open and a fan set to low, and clearly this is a place that doesn't have central air like mine does.

“You know what to do if you need me,” I say, leaving the apartment.

The door closes behind me. Shit.

What are the odds? It’s like I’ve been given a gift. Like fate dropped this amazing girl into my lap not once, but two times. I have a chance to convince her of what I already know to be true.