No Strings Attached

Chapter One

"Not if you don't try a bit! You do know that the suit you're wearing is two sizes too big, right? And those circles around your eyes are not necessarily in fashion either."

The forewarning in my glare stops his complaining. "All right, alright, I'll stop."

"Thank you."

The man is infuriating... in a coddling, fatherly way I reluctantly admire. He's been like a parental figure to me since my mother died, considering my father has been shut out for years. He took a chance on me, and made sure I got out of Detroit and into the sleepless city.

"You know I just want to see you happy," he chimes once the tension has settled.

"I am happy, Norman. I have the job of a lifetime. That is good for me right now."

He sets down his empty glass onto the bar, heaving out a heavy sigh. "You will call me? Let me know how everything goes?"

"Don't I always?"

He smiles, leaving me alone. I tear my gaze from the door to my desk, where a picture of Dixon still sits, right in my goddamn face. We've been divorced three years, and he still calls. He had been stopping by my apartment, but I had the attendant ban him from entering past six. If it's after six, he's flat-faced drunk. Without a doubt.

He was once a beautiful man. Wavy golden hair, light eyes. A smile to kill. He worked on the police force. For years, he was regarded highly, even won a few awards. We married after six months of dating. I thought that was enough time. I thought I had figured him out.

And then he began to drink. At first, it was only after a rough day. I convinced myself not to fear, not to believe he was going down the same path my father had but eventually, it was a nightly routine. Most of the time, it was predictable shouting sessions, a couple of items scattered and broken on the ground, and then his long, lean body laid out snoring on the leather couch. The other times were something else entirely.

When I knew he didn't want to get help, I told him to get out.

For that, he made it his life's work to turn my days into a living hell. He would wait for me outside of work, outside of the apartment building, outside of my favorite café for lunch. He began to follow me everywhere, always pleading desperately, apologizing... always drunk or high. He was thrown off duty not even two months after I filed the divorce papers. It turned him cruel even when he was sober. It made him ugly and disheveled. Instead of him showing up wanting my love, he'd demand it. One winter night, he broke into my apartment while I was sleeping. That was it. I called his former boss in the NYPD, and he gave him a dressing down so severe that the months have ticked by without a single sighting of him.

He'll call every so often but knows to keep his distance.

The thought of him makes my heart shrink.

"Scarlett?"

My head jerks up at Rebecca's hesitant tone. "What?"

"You good for today? I have a date tonight."

I nod. "Have fun. This is the podiatrist you're seeing?"

She grins, clamping her teeth down on her pink tongue. "Yes, the second date is always the defining moment for the relationship."

"Relationship? You don't think you're jumping the gun there?"

"What can I say? I'm hopeful," she snickers. "Not everyone's a scrooge like you. It's the holidays! Get yourself a man to warm you by the fire."

"Bye, Rebecca."

She groans, planting my ticket on the desk. "I'll see you on Monday. Good luck with this guy. I heard he's a real ball-buster."