My phone buzzes again. Rebecca. I decline the call and immediately block her number. The club has rules about contact outside its walls, and she broke them. I don’t need that complication on top of everything else.
“Fuck it,” I mutter, pushing back from my desk.
I stride out of my office, my footsteps echoing in the nearly empty space. Bea looks up as I approach, her expression carefully neutral, but I catch the way her pulse jumps at the base of her throat.
“We need to talk,” I say, stopping in front of her desk.
Her fingers pause over her keyboard. “About the Newside contracts? I’ve already?—”
“Not about work.” I lean against her desk, ignoring the way she stiffens. “About this morning. About Rebecca.”
Color floods her cheeks, but her voice remains steady. “I don’t know what you mean. Your personal life is none of my business.”
“Isn’t it?” The words come out harsh, making her brows draw together, but I can’t take them back. “Because the way you’ve been avoiding me all day suggests otherwise.”
Her eyes flash with anger or hurt masquerading as fury. “I haven’t been avoiding you. I’ve been doing my job.”
“Bullshit.” I lean closer, lowering my voice. “You’ve been treating me like I have a communicable disease since that phone call.”
She stands abruptly, her chair rolling back so far it hits the wall. Even in heels, she has to tilt her head up to meet my eyes,but there’s nothing submissive about her posture. She’s all sharp edges and barely controlled fire.
“Fine. You want to know what I think?” Her voice is deadly quiet. “I think you spent last night with someone, and now she’s calling your office like she owns you. I think you came in this morning looking like you’d been thoroughly,” she looks me up and down with open disgust, “satisfied. And I think it’s none of my goddamn business, but apparently my brain didn’t get that memo.”
The honesty in her words makes my own anger nearly die out. She’s jealous. Beatrice Wrong—sharp, controlled, untouchable Bea—is jealous over whom I spent my night with. The realization sends heat straight through me, and it feels dangerous and intoxicating.
“You’re right,” I say, watching her face closely. “It’s not your business. But you’re wrong about Rebecca.”
Her jaw ticks. “I don’t want to hear about your?—”
“She’s not my anything,” I interrupt, getting frustrated by the second. This is not how I imagined this conversation would go.
“Good.” Her chin lifts up. “Because I don’t care.”
“Great.”
“Great!” she cries out, leaving the last word to her.
Feeling the rage boiling under my skin, I go to my office, grab the car keys, and storm toward the elevators, mentally smacking myself for starting this talk in the first place.
When I’m in my car, I pick up the phone and dial a different number.
“I’ll be there soon as we planned.” My voice is not exactly welcoming, and I give myself a mental smack.
“Not today, honey. Let’s reschedule for tomorrow. Okay?”
Her brittle voice makes my hands turn into fists.
“I’ll be there soon,” I repeat firmer.
“I’m nearly asleep already. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Fuck. I wanted to try and avoid going back to old habits again, but here I am, getting pushed right to them. I throw the phone on the passenger seat and start the car. I guess I can’t escape my destiny.
25
Bea
I gripthe steering wheel of my old, beat-up Fiat, which has served me faithfully on those rare occasions I take it out for trips, as I trail behind Noah’s sleek black car. Thank goodness there’s heavy traffic, or I wouldn’t be able to keep up with him.
