Chapter 5 — Androphobia
1258 Words
The woman heard Tiana's mocking words and went blank with shock. She gaped at her, then flicked a glance at the man beside her.
She could barely believe it—this girl had just called Jason Vance, the reigning CEO of New York City, her "boyfriend"!
Jason Vance rubbed his temple, less than thrilled with the creative title she'd pinned on him.
"Flat-chest," the woman said, eyeing Tiana with a smirk and deliberately pushing her chest out, "do you even know what you're saying?" She let a hand drift through her big waves of hair, every inch the seductress.
Tiana looked at that impressive cleavage, that perfect curve, and pursed her lips. She shrugged, indifferent—she'd always known her own slim figure wasn't much to brag about.
"Okay! I'll make this quick!"
"First, let me clarify to Sister Coconut here: I did not mean to interrupt you and your boyfriend's good time."
"I just need five minutes to say what I came to say, and I'm gone. Wouldn't stay a single second longer!"
If it weren't for that newspaper, who'd want to stand here looking at a p*****t!
The haughty woman's pretty face went green the instant she heard "Coconut." She'd called her Coconut!
"Jason…" she shot Tiana a venomous look and melted against the man, breathing into his ear, "make her leave…"
She didn't know why, but something felt off. Her sixth sense told her this girl who'd barged in would directly threaten her position.
To defend her turf, she had to strike first.
Tiana watched the play out like a nature documentary—predator, rival, territory. She might have found it funny if she weren't the one being circled.
Tiana's eyes went wide. This woman must've been a snake in a past life!
Her body could go that soft? Tiana's nausea climbed; she swallowed hard, willing her stomach to settle.
"Vance…" what was his name again?
Tiana's mouth twitched. "CEO Vance, if you tell me right now that your little game is over—I'll turn around and walk out, and you two can carry on!"
"Over?" Jason Vance set the woman clinging to him upright and strode toward Tiana.
The woman stared at the man in a daze, frozen for a second. Then she whipped her head toward Tiana, and her lovely face twisted ugly and jealous.
Tiana saw him bearing down on her and instinctively stepped back.
His gaze was too direct, too sharp—like she wasn't wearing anything at all…
The thought of not wearing anything dragged her straight back to that night. Tiana's fair face burned scarlet.
"Stop! Don't come any closer! I have…" She threw a hand up between them, blocking him.
Jason Vance did stop, planting himself three paces away, arms crossed. "You have what?"
"I… I have…" She scrambled through every word she knew and blurted, "I have androphobia! Men too close and I break out in hives—bad cases, I can't breathe!"
The words tumbled out in a rush—and then, without meaning to, a different word slipped from her tongue, in a language she couldn't name, a cadence that belonged to no classroom she'd ever sat in:
"Non mi toccare, principe."
The second it left her lips, Tiana went rigid. She didn't know what she'd just said. She didn't speak Italian. She'd never heard the phrase before in her life—and yet it had risen from somewhere deep, automatic, the way a soldier answers a command.
Jason Vance's head tilted, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face. Principe. Prince. A word no ordinary Bronx orphan would reach for.
Tiana's blood ran cold. She'd just given away something she didn't understand. And the man in front of her had heard every syllable.
Androphobia? Hives? Can't breathe?
Jason Vance looked at the terrified little thing in front of him, eyes dark but thoroughly entertained. He arched a brow, barely suppressing a laugh.
Her disgust was written all over her face. Did she take him for blind? If she was going to lie, she could at least pick a better one.
"Oh? Is that so?" He played along, feigning doubt.
Tiana saw he didn't quite buy it and slipped into a weak, fragile act.
She pressed a hand to her chest, breathing hard. Between gasps she said, "Yes, yes! You're already pretty close—a meter away and I'm miserable!"
Inside, she was screaming: p*****t! Chauvinist pig! Get away from me!
Jason Vance didn't call her bluff on the spot. He turned to the woman behind him and smiled. "Baby, I've got business to handle, so you're going to have to excuse me."
"Jason…" The woman was lost in the charm of his smile, cooing his name.
Jason Vance walked to her, dipped his head, and brushed a kiss to her cheek. "There, there. I like a good girl who listens. Tonight…"
His voice dipped too low for Tiana to catch. But watching the woman's pretty face flush, her eyes go all dreamy, Tiana could guess well enough.
"Ugh, fine—I'm leaving then!"
The woman looped her arms around his neck and rose on tiptoe to give him a French kiss. Then she scooped up her Louis Vuitton snakeskin bag, and as she passed Tiana, shot her one last vicious glare.
Try to compete with me? I'm Jason Vance's new flame.
Tiana rolled her eyes so hard she nearly passed out.
With the woman gone, the huge office settled into a stiff silence. Neither spoke; they kept the quiet by mutual, loaded agreement.
The AC was cranked to sixty-one degrees and biting. Tiana finally couldn't hold back a sneeze.
"Ah-choo—"
Jason Vance was suddenly at her side, shrugging off his jacket without a beat and draping it over her shoulders. "Here. Wouldn't want you catching a cold."
Tiana answered without thinking, "Thanks! You're such a—"
"great guy" never made it out. She looked up, caught his tall frame, and met that face up close, looming large—and lurched back a full step.
Was this man a ghost? When had he floated over here!
His jacket still hung on her shoulders, warm from his body, and she hated that she noticed. It smelled of cold rain and expensive soap, the kind of scent that said money without saying a word. She shrugged it off like it burned, but her fingers lingered on the lapel a half-second too long—confused, she told herself, by how a stranger could move like smoke.
"Your androphobia better?" Jason Vance crossed his arms, brow arched.
"…" Tiana had no comeback. She shot him a wounded glare.
The next second she lit up a smile and steered the topic away fast. "CEO Vance, I need a favor—could you please give me back those photos?"
Jason Vance heard "CEO Vance" again, then "you," and his mood soured. "No. Can't."
She bit back a groan. Of course he wouldn't. Men like him kept what they wanted the way other people kept grudges—forever, and with interest.
He stepped in close, studying her face the way a man studies a painting he's certain he's seen before. "You know," he said, almost to himself, "I think I've seen you somewhere."
Tiana's heart gave a hard, guilty knock. The wanted poster, she thought. He means the photo. But the way he said it—soft, puzzled, almost reluctant—made her wonder if he meant something else entirely. Something older. Something she didn't remember either.
- Writer
