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“What’s going on with you and Ava? I saw her walk out of your office last week, and she smirked at me.”

“Is this a bad time to talk?”

“Yes.” She was breathing hard. “This is a very bad time. Why don’t you just hang up and go to the Marriott so you can f**k someone else?”

“I am at the Marriott, and I was actually about to f**k someone else.”

She was silent for several seconds. “I don’t… I don’t want to hear from you anymore, Andrew.”

“What did you just say?”

“I said I don’t want to hear from you anymore. Don’t you ever f**king call me again.” She hung up.

Impasse (n.):

The inability of two parties to reach a negotiated settlement.

A few days later…

Aubrey

My heart was still aching—reeling, and although I’d told Andrew never to call me again, and that I didn’t want to hear from him, I couldn’t move on until I received an apology.

I needed it…

I felt sick to my stomach after giving him that watch, and I’d foolishly expected for him to call and say, “I love you, too,” but he acted as if it meant nothing.

Without knocking, I opened the door to his office and shut it behind me.

He raised his eyebrow as I stepped over to his desk, but he didn’t hang up his phone.

“Yes, that will be fine,” he spoke into the receiver.

“I need to talk to you.” I blurted out. “Now.”

He motioned for me to take a seat, but he continued talking. “Yes. That will work as well.”

I sat and crossed my arms, trying not to stare at him too hard. He was utter perfection today—looking more f**k-able than usual with a fresh hair-cut and a brand new grey suit. His eyes regarded me intensely as usual, and I noticed he was actually wearing the watch I gave him. He’d even paired it with matching cufflinks.

Maybe I’m overreacting after all…

“Right…” He leaned back in his chair and typed a few things onto his keyboard. “I’ll see you at eight o’clock tonight, Sandra. Room 225.”

My stomach dropped.

“Something I can help you with, Miss Everhart?” He hung up the phone. “Is there any reason why you barged into my office without knocking?”

“You’ve f**ked someone else already?”

“Is that a serious question?”

“Did you f**k someone else already? Did you?”

“Would it matter?”

“Yes, it would f**king matter…” My blood boiled as I stood up. “Did you sleep with someone else?”

“Not yet.” He narrowed his eyes at me and stood up too, walking over to me. “However, I really don’t see how that’s any of your concern.”

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