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“I don’t want any of it…” I brushed away the tears running down my cheeks as I fought to keep my voice steady. This was my one and only chance, and I was going for broke. “I love you…all I want is you.”
He stopped short. His jaw pulsed, his eyes flashing with barely pent-up fury. “Really? You could’ve fooled me. Oh wait, you did––you did fool me.”
He turned then. Walked away. Never looked back.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Sydney
I had nothing left. I was down and out, going through the motions of my life with no taste for it. All that remained was a shell of a person. For the first time ever, my work gave me no satisfaction, no pleasure. He’d taken that from me too.
Without invitation, my nemesis waltzed into my office the following day. He headed straight to the wall of windows that overlooked Fifth Avenue and took a seat in the armchair with his knees splayed apart like he owned the place. This was not new behavior for Hastings, and I bore it as I did every other time––with the patience of a saint who desperately wanted to roll her eyes but refrained.
“Something on your mind?” I said without taking my eyes off the spreadsheets on my computer screen. “I mean, besides being grossly disappointed that you weren’t named CEO.”
In the periphery of my vision, I watched his lips quiver. “From a lesser man, I would’ve taken that as an insult.”
That prodded a smile out of me. Chin tucked, my attention lazily moved over to him. Damon was handsome by anyone’s definition. He was black with light brown skin, sharp cheekbones, a strong chin, and piercing almond-shaped eyes that made you think twice about crossing him.
I just never warmed to him because he’d never warmed to me. Your basic case of one top dog recognizing the other. Frank fostered that kind of atmosphere, pitting employees against each other. He loved that shit. He was convinced it made everyone work better.
“I’ve never liked you, Evans,” he casually admitted, his New York accent barely discernible.
I snorted, on the verge of outright chuckling. “I’m glad we got that cleared up.”
Glancing at his gold Rolex, he sighed. With his thick muscles and brute swagger, he wasn’t at all the company type. He was, however, an excellent lawyer. One of the best. The story was that Hastings, on behalf of his client, outmaneuvered Frank on a Fifth Avenue townhouse he was purchasing for himself. Upon realizing he’d been had, Frank hired him on the spot. Which was why I knew this visit was not without purpose. Damon was a master strategist.
“Say what you came to say or get out. Some of us have a company to run.”
“Always playing teacher’s pet…” he mused out loud. “For years, I thought you were fucking Frank––”
Now that got my full attention. My head snapped up at his sheer freaking audacity. I’d heard the rumors too and figured time would eventually put them to bed (figuratively speaking) when everyone finally realized there was nothing to them. But no one had the balls to say it to my face. No one but Damon.
“Are you trying to get me to fire you?”
“––until I realized how good you are at your job…Remember the building in Dubai, back in 2011?”
I nodded, recalling the details. “They changed the zoning laws the last day of escrow.”
“No one else caught it. There were five of us working that deal and you were the only one to check before the funds were wired.”
“As much as I appreciate this stroll down memory lane––is there a point you’re trying to make?”
“I’ve never liked you, Evans, but I’ve always thought you deserved to be general counsel. You earned the job.”
I was too wrapped up in ascertaining where he was going with the conversation to correct his use of my maiden name for the second time.
“Am I happy Frank left you in charge? Nah––I’m far from thrilled.” Shaking his head, he leveled a flat stare on me. “But you’re a fuck load better than Scott and ten times more qualified.”
Standing, he adjusted the cuffs of his custom-made shirt. “Watch your six. I don’t know what happened between you two, but I know you’re barely speaking and I have a feeling Scott’s working to have you removed as acting CEO.”
The news slammed into me. Damon was a strategist, but he wasn’t shady, or full of it. He wouldn’t be telling me this if it wasn’t more than a hunch. Scott, on the other hand…I wasn’t certain what Scott was capable of anymore, what lengths he’d go to punish me. I wasn’t sure I could trust my own husband anymore.
“What…makes you say that?”
“Solid intel from a reliable source.”
Which, for Damon, meant he was sleeping with the source.
I kept my composure, measured my breathing. Always in control. I thought I’d retired that crutch for good, that I’d gotten beyond it, and yet it came roaring back with a vengeance under the slightest provocation. Which was a real bummer.
