“Yosh is lucky to have you,” he finally says, tone calculated and sinister.
“We all would’ve loved to guide you. But games get played at Arcadia, and not always fair ones. Some therapists know exactly who to befriend to get ahead.
Erin was meant to guide you, she’s a senior. Your family made sure of it. But Yosh took over. A troubled, well-known name like yours? That’s leverage, promotion material. He knew that. He planned it from the start.”
The grin he’s giving me tells me he’s more than pleased with himself.
I keep my mouth shut.
Meanwhile, adrenaline is everywhere, tempting me to lose my shit. I can’t even tell which thoughts are mine and which ones he’s shoved in there.
Let’s be real, I don’t trust the fucker. But what if there’s some truth to what he’s saying? Yosh did mention the position, only to accuse Terrence of sabotage. What if it’s the other way around, and I’m a stepping stone in Yosh’s career path?
No, that can’t be. I trust him. I know him.
Do I?
I think I do. I want to. God, I want to.
But is it real?
Why the bloody hell am I questioning that? He couldn’t do that to me, right?
He. Could. Not.
My jaw clenches so hard I feel my teeth grind. I don’t say a damn thing. That’s exactly what Terrence wants, he wants to see me crumble.
Fuck that.
He lays his eyes on me, probably checking how deep the knife’s gone.
“My door is always open, Tom.”
That’s it. So much for keeping my cool.
He turns to leave, I grab his arm. Hard. One twist and I could snap it.
He looks down at my tight grip around his wrist. His throat bobs. He knows.
“I know exactly what you’re trying to do, arsehole. But it won’t work on me,” I tell him softly.
He tries to pull back. I yank him closer instead, close enough to see the flash of fear behind that smug, cockroach face.
“Now you walk away, and you forget this conversation ever happened.”
I rise from my chair and twist his arm, forcing him to bend. I’m too far gone to care about the gasp from Stella or the shocked faces around us.
“Trust me, you don’t want to know who I am. Or where I come from.”
Then I shove him back. He staggers a few steps, catching himself before he loses his balance.
I don’t say a word. I wait until he walks out of sight.
Only then do I allow myself to sit back at the table. Rage vibrates under my skin; I’m still boiling inside.
I grab my glass, and take a long, bitter sip of water.
Terrence is gone, but his words stick.
