The Casanova by T L Swan

Chapter 4

I storm into the elevator like the Hulk. After the worst day in history I am ready to fight someone . . . anyone.

Come at me, bitches, because I am ready to rumble.

After my meeting with fuck-face Miles this morning, the day started to spiral. Before tea break, we had a computer glitch that appeared for no reason and wouldn’t go away. Then when I was on my break, I got an urgent call that the entire network had crashed. I had to rush back from lunch before my food had even arrived and go into damage repair. I ended up having to shut down the entire system and reboot the whole building, then to top off the debacle I got a call from fuck-face to tell me to hurry up about it.

My fury bubbles deep in my stomach. Hurry up about it.

I’ll give him hurry up about it.

It’s now 7 p.m. and I’m just leaving, I’m tired, I’m angry, and worst of all, I’m hangry.

I could eat a horse and chase the rider.

I’m going straight to the nearest bar and having the largest chicken schnitzel and fries, and ten thousand wines.

The elevator doors open and I look out onto the street and roll my eyes. Of course it’s fucking raining.

This day is a living hell.

I exhale heavily and walk toward the doors and I hear the elevator ding.

“Kathryn.” A deep voice calls from behind me. “Wait up.” I turn to see Elliot stepping out of the elevator.

Ugh, seriously?

Just when I think the day can’t get any worse, the heavens open up and deliver again.

I want to ignore him and march off, but then I’ll look like a petulant child. I stand on the spot as I wait for King Asshole to arrive.

“Hi,” he says as he approaches me with a smile. “Bad day?”

I stare at him flatly. Of all the fucking nerve. “You could say that.” I turn toward the doors and he falls in to walk beside me.

“What was the problem with the server,” he asks.

“You’ll have a report about it in the morning.”

“Why can’t you just tell me now?”

I turn to him. “Because I don’t want to.”

“Why not?”

“Because my opinion from this morning still stands, you are an asshole and if I talk to you I am apparently trying to”—I hold my fingers up and air-quote—“turn you on and make you crack.”

He drops his head to hide his smile. “Still carrying on about that, are you?”

I glare at him as my temper hits a crescendo. “Are you for real?” I whisper through gritted teeth.

“Well.” He shrugs casually. “I had a concern and I voiced it.” He looks out toward the pouring rain. “We should get a drink to discuss it further.”

My face screws up. “What the fuck?” I whisper angrily. “You accuse me of trying to set you up for sexual harassment and then you want to have a drink?”

“It’s over to me.” He shrugs casually. “And why not get a drink, it’s been a bad day. Might be good to let off some steam.”

“It’s not over for me, nobody can be this stupid?”

“I’m sure we could both do with a glass of wine.”

I exhale heavily. This guy is as thick as a brick. “Mr. Miles, as I stated this morning, I have no interest in you. I am highly offended at your accusation this morning, and for your information, I was in the fucking sauna first!”

Amusement flashes across his face. “You’re saying ‘fuck’ a lot today, Kathryn.”

I get a vision of myself punching him fair and square in the face.

My nostrils flare as I fight for control. “Good. Bye.” I turn and march toward the door and the rain really begins to hammer down. I see the black Bentley and his driver waiting in the drop-off area.

Fuck it . . . now I have to storm off in the rain while he watches from the backseat of his wanker-mobile.

Kill me now!

I open the door.

“Would you like a lift?” he calls.

I ignore him and try to shuffle along as I concentrate on the wet ground. Slipping over now in front of him would be the end of me.

I march around the corner and look for the closest thing undercover. I don’t care where or what it is, just get me out of here.

I see a pharmacy—oh, I have a prescription. I’ll get that dispensed now while I’m here and it’ll get me out of his sight. I dart inside and turn to see the black Bentley pull out slowly and into the traffic. I let out a sigh of relief; thank God, he’s gone.

I dig the prescription out and hand it over the counter to the pharmacist. “Can I get this please?”

“Alright.” The kind-looking elderly man smiles as he takes it from me. He reads it over the top of his glasses and then looks back up. “Have you ever taken this medication before, dear?”

“No, I saw a new doctor this week and this is the first time it’s been prescribed.”

“It’s very strong, do you mind me asking what it’s for?”

“I have endometriosis and very painful periods. Apparently it should help on day one.”

He nods. “Okay, that makes sense. Make sure you take it with food, and no alcohol or operating heavy machinery.”

“Alright.” I smile. “Thanks.”

Thunder rumbles loud from the heavens and we both peer out to see the rain bouncing on the road as it lands. “It’s really coming down out there,” he says. “It’s a good night to be tucked in at home.”

“Yes.” I smile.

Either that, or getting drunk alone in a bar. I feel myself relax a little for the first time all day.

I’m taking option two.