Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 113272 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 566(@200wpm)___ 453(@250wpm)___ 378(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113272 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 566(@200wpm)___ 453(@250wpm)___ 378(@300wpm)
“I don’t give a fuck. I’m going to New York to claim it as mine.”
“You mean to claim Millie as yours.”
“No,” I lied. “I mean I want to work in New York. I’m sick and tired of LA.” I jutted out my chin, daring him to argue. I was a stubborn bastard and he knew it.
Jaime threw his head back and laughed, and I felt anger bubbling inside me. What was so funny about this situation? His laughter died down, but only after a full minute.
“Listen to yourself, Vicious. You’re obsessed with this girl. You’re in love with this girl, always have been, ever since you realized she’s not afraid or impressed by your bullshit. You bump into her in New York and the first thing you do is hire her. You’re in deep denial. You want her, fucking everything about her. You don’t need to steal Dean’s office. Just tell her.”
I shook my head again. It didn’t make sense. Or at least, I didn’t want it to.
“I’m going to New York.”
“Dean’s gonna be pissed,” Jaime said for the millionth time.
“Too bad. Plane reservation’s already made.” That was as far as I had gotten so far.
I needed a plan. I needed it fast.
I started with a call to HR in New York to tell them that Emilia LeBlanc was on paid leave. She wasn’t going to show up at work without some in-person persuasion—I gathered as much from her not taking any of my calls, texts, or emails. In the meantime, I asked the HR manager to inform me if Dean tried anything fishy with her job, and I made sure I had access to all of Emilia’s employee records, just in case.
Which also gave me access to her company email. It was just like high school—me thumbing through her mail to see what plans she had next.
I saw she’d already contacted a recruitment agency to have another PA on standby in case Dean or I needed someone next week. Honestly, even that annoyed me. She was clearly pissed at me, and she couldn’t even do that all the way without making sure everyone around her was nice and comfortable. Me included.
I wasn’t too worried. It wasn’t like she could go far. I knew where she lived, and she had no job prospects except wriggling into that slutty waitress outfit again. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have taken a job with an asshole like me in the first place.
On New Year’s Day, I boarded a plane back to New York. I didn’t know what I was doing or where I was staying. Dean was back at his apartment, and it was clear Emilia didn’t want to see my face.
Too bad for her.
In Manhattan I checked into another hotel and didn’t even bother unpacking this time. All the utilitarian rooms blurred into one another. Hotels poisoned the soul. Lucky for me, mine was already tarnished.
After a quick shower and a shave, I decided it was past time Emilia explained herself. I went to Dean’s building and waltzed in, using his electronic key. I knocked on her door three times and paced the hallway outside her apartment, raking my fingers through my hair.
Nothing.
I knocked again, this time banging my fist against her door. “For fuck’s sake! The least you can do is face me in person. I’m still your boss!”
Just as I finished the sentence, the door flung open, and Rosie stood on the other side.
“Where’s your sister?” I felt my jaw ticking.
She hugged the door, her chin stuck out. “Actually, I didn’t open the door to answer your stupid questions. I opened the door to tell you that you’re not, in fact, my sister’s boss anymore. She found a new job. We’re moving out on Sunday. Thanks for nothing, douche.” She smiled sweetly and tried to slam the door in my face.
I had to shove my foot between the door and the frame, just like I’d done the first time I came to see Emilia. The LeBlanc sisters definitely didn’t like my presence.
“Where is she?” I repeated. I didn’t believe Rosie about the new job. This wasn’t happening. She wouldn’t have given up her high-paying job at FHH…would she?
Fuck. Of course she would. This was Emilia.
“No,” Rosie said. “She doesn’t want to see you anymore. First, you make her break up with her boyfriend and force her to leave California…” She trailed off, awarding me with one of her infamous go-fuck-yourself stares. Her voice dropped an octave. “Then ten years later, you sleep with her in his bed. Whatever revenge tour you’re on, she doesn’t want any part of it.”
Shit. She knew about Dean.
But I knew Rosie wasn’t talking about the real revenge I was after, with Jo. That was a good sign. Emilia had kept my secrets.
I shouldered my way into their apartment, scanning it for her. She wasn’t in the living room, but endless cardboard boxes were, and they were already sealed and ready to be moved elsewhere.