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I’m a liar.
I’ve been lying to Malcolm all along, seducing him because I was worried about my company… and now I’ve fallen in love with him, and I’ve fallen really hard. Karma is a bitch, right? Worst of all, I have no idea what I should do now.
If Malcolm admits he’s in love with me, I’m sure Ben will use that to ruin him… But if I just step out of this whole mess, removing myself from the equation to try and save him, Ben will leak the tapes and drag me and my company through the mud until there’s nothing left but ruins.
But I can’t lead Malcolm on.
I can’t ruin him like this.
The woman I was before getting to know Malcolm
would do it in a heartbeat, but that woman had ice running in her veins. Malcolm melted all that ice and now… Now I can’t destroy him.
I’ve parked my car around the block and, the moment I see it, I open the door with one click of my keys. Sitting behind the steering wheel, I lock myself inside and throw my head back against the headrest. I take a deep breath, trying to think of a solution; then, with a sigh of resignation, I take my phone out of my purse and go through the call log. Finding what I’m looking for, I press the Dial green button and press the phone to my ear.
“Yeah?” I hear Ben’s voice on the other side of the line and, with that, loud music. The asshole he’s probably partying in some club right now, not giving a fuck about me or anyone else. That’s Ben for you—a complete sociopathic asshole. “What the fuck do you want, Athena? Did Malcolm admit he has fallen for you?” I can hear the eagerness in his voice, and I have to struggle against the urge to simply end the connection. But no, I just take a deep breath and try to rearrange my thoughts.
“Ben … this isn’t going well,” I start to stay, praying to God that my words come out truthful. “Things aren’t working out between Malcolm and I, and I --”
“Oh, please, Athena,” he cuts me short, his tone one of amused annoyance. “Feed that bullshit to someone else. You’ve always been a shitty liar.”
“It’s not a lie, it’s --”
“Shut up, Athena. Remember what I told you; do your fucking job and everything will be okay. Don’t, and you and your company we’ll be fucked. For good. I can do more than just release these tapes, you know? Just like I have dirt on you, I have it on other people as well … and some of them are reporters. Can you imagine the kind of bullshit a reporter would print just to get rid of me?”
This time I don’t say a thing. I know exactly the kind of shit a reporter would print in a situation like that. I mean, I’m working on the ruin of the man I’ve fallen for, and that because I’m being blackmailed. Printing a smear article is nothing when compared to that.
“When did you turn into such a bastard, Ben?” I ask him, anger replacing the feelings of frustration I was feeling just minutes ago. He’s lucky he’s not here right now, because I’m not sure if I’d be able to suppress the urge to kick him in the balls.
“I’m not a bastard, babe, I’m a realist. And I’ve always been this way… It was you who thought I was some kind of fucking Prince Charming. You’re a hot woman, Athena, but you really gotta pack those rose-colored glasses of yours.”
I’m about to tell him to fuck off when I hear the voice a woman.
“Who're you talking to?” I ask, and Ben says something I can’t quite hear. Then, just like that, he ends the connection. I throw my phone over to the passenger seat and close my eyes; I rub my temples with my thumbs, already feeling a headache brewing inside my skull.
I have some choices to make, and all of them have consequences. On one hand, there’s my company; on the other, there’s Malcolm. And sitting right at the crossroad is Ben, watching my every move, his finger hovering over the Destroy Her button.
Yeah, I’ve had better days, no doubt about that.
Trying to take my mind out of the pool of desperation it’s falling into, I turn the engine on and place my hands on the steering wheel. I turn the radio on, and a soft jazzy voice immediately fills up the car.
Michael Bublé.
Fucking great.
18
Malcolm
Roast beef, cheese, mustard, rye—normally all the makings of a good sandwich, but today I can't eat. Just looking at food makes me queasy.
I chuck it into the wastebasket, disgusted with not only the food, but with myself, and with my life in general.
What was I thinking, falling for a woman like Athena, especially given the high stakes? Of course she snuck out of my apartment—no good bye, no 'hey, it was fun, but I gotta run,' and not even a text. Karma? Luck? Fuck if I know.
And that's what really gets me. How hard is it to send a text message?
I've been calling her like crazy, one call after another, and texting too, but now she's giving me the silent treatment. Like I don't exist. For all I know, maybe she even had my number blocked.
