Page 74 of Falling for the Grumpy Bad Boy

“Yeah. A fucking mistake. I should have known better than to get involved with someone so goddamn immature. Someone who can’t separate personal shit from professional reality.”

“Immature? You want to see immature? I’ll show you immature.”

Before she could elaborate on that threat, I pressed on, driven by some self-destructive impulse I didn’t fully understand.

“You know what? You’re right about one thing. You are just Desman Hartley’s daughter. Without his name, without his connections, you never would’ve gotten within a mile of this opportunity. Your spot should have gone to someone who actually earned it, someone who worked their way up from the bottom instead of having everything handed to them on a silver platter.”

The silence that followed was absolute. I knew immediately that I had gone too far. The words had been designed to hurt. I could see from the devastation that flashed across her face that I had succeeded beyond my intentions.

She looked like I slapped her. Hell, maybe it would have been kinder if I had.

“Fuck you,” she whispered, but there was no heat in it now. Just exhaustion.

“I know you want to,” I heard myself say, my voice cold and distant even to my own ears. “But that door is closed.”

It was a cheap shot, a final twist of the knife after I already delivered the killing blow. I wasn’t even sure why I said it, except maybe to prove to myself that I could still cut her.

The effect was immediate and devastating. Her face crumpled for just an instant before she got control of herself, but I saw the tears gather at the corners of her eyes before she turned away.

“Clem—” I started, but she was already moving toward the tent flap.