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She put a hand on her hip. “You don’t call the shots, Robbie. You never have. I let you get away all those years ago. If I had wanted to stop you, you would have stayed,” she spat. “You always have been a spineless boy.”
“Things have changed, Tiffany. You don’t know me anymore—”
“I don’t?” She threw her head back and laughed but not with humor. “You’re still scared. Still terrified of people finding out who you really are. Still lying and pretending you’re one thing when deep inside you’re something else entirely.”
Her words hit me hard because they were right. God damn, she was right. And I hated her even more for it.
“As for your girlfriend,” her face became something dark and ugly at the mention of Skylar, “she’s nothing. Do you get that? She’ll never see the Robbie that I know. I own you.” She walked to an ornate desk in the corner, opened a drawer, and took out a small flash drive. “I’ve been watching you for years. I keep tabs on my boys.”
My heart was hammering in my chest. “What is that?”
“Insurance. In case you got too big for your britches.” She put the flash drive back in the drawer.
“Tiffany—”
“Don’t call me Tiffany. Call me Darling.”
It felt like ice water was coursing through my veins.
“What?” I choked out.
She advanced on me again. I felt like I was a mouse being stalked by a cat. She pressed herself against me, running her hand down my chest, tucking her finger in the waistline of my trousers. “Don’t you dare shut down that website of yours. It’s got to be a good little earner for you. And I like being able to watch you whenever I want. A woman can get awfully lonely at night.” She slithered her fingers down further into my pants.
“You’re Darling?” I rasped.
She nodded, giggling. “And Liquid234. And Sexbomblimited. Oh, and SedectiveSweetyPie11.” She listed out three of my most frequent online clients. She had been watching me for years.
Since I had started my website.
She thought she had me under her thumb. She expected me to buckle. To cave in to her demands.
“Why are you here?” I asked her again.
Then surprisingly, her face crumpled, and an uncharacteristic vulnerability came over her face. “When you left all those years ago I thought I could replace you. And I did. I replaced you over and over again. But none of those men ever looked at me the way you did. None of them loved me.” She sniffed as if she were actually trying not to cry. “You made me feel like something special. To you, I was a goddess. None of the others ever treated me the way you did.”
Of course, it was all about her and how I made her feel. It made me feel even more shame. She had used me, though she didn’t realize that’s what she had done. In her messed-up mind, she probably thought she loved me too.
“Are you going to propose I work for you again? Start up another service here in Southport as me as your star employee?” I sneered. She made me sick.
Tiffany’s eyes softened and she reached up and wrapped her arms around my neck. “No, baby. You’re all mine. I don’t want to share you ever again. Now come on. Let me show you how much I’ve missed you.”
“Don’t touch me,” I said with barely contained fury.
She blinked as if in surprise. She thought her sob story would work. “You don’t mean that.” She gripped me tighter, like a fucking succubus.
“I do mean it. I don’t love you. I never did. And I sure as hell don’t want you in my life now.” I disentangled myself, holding her at arm's length. “I don’t hate you either, though at one time I did.” I gave her an almost pitying look. “I honestly don’t feel anything for you at all.”
Her expression morphed into rage. “You stupid idiot. Don’t you know what I can do to you? I can destroy your world! That little fucking girlfriend of yours? Gone. Your fancy career? Finished. Think about what you’re saying—”
“You think I would come over here without my own insurance?” I asked softly, cutting her off.
She closed her mouth in confusion.
“I have all the proof I need to have you sent away for tax evasion. I’m sure the IRS would love to know you owe them millions of dollars.” I raised my eyebrows at her.
“That’s a load of bull. How would you have proof of anything?” she sputtered but she had gone pale. Very, very pale.
“You were so full of your own confidence that you moronically chose my law firm to represent your financial interests. Did you not think Jeremy would show me some questionable paperwork?” I shook my head.
“There’s such a thing as an attorney-client privilege—”
