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Resigned to my fate, I hold out my arms. “Alright. Let me have it.”
“How could you? We agreed to keep our relationship private unless prompted.”
My molars grind together. It goes against the grain to justify my actions when I don’t feel I was wrong. Unfortunately for me, my pride rears its ugly head.
“So I nudged things along to clue the bastard in. What’s the problem?”
“‘What’s the problem?’” She harrumphs, pacing the length of the table between us. “The problem is, you completely went over my head by texting Trent to meet us outside. You tricked me into riding with you into the job. You deliberately put me in an uncomfortable position, all to boost your ego.”
Was I conniving when I set up the meet-and-greet? Absolutely. I’m not exactly known for making smart choices with marking Simone as mine. The only thing that makes me halt my snarky response is hearing she felt uncomfortable.
Shame isn’t an emotion I’m familiar with, butdammitfor it budding inside my chest. Hating myself for causing her unnecessary unease, I round the table. I need to be closer—to touch and comfort her.
She stops her pacing when she sees me approach. Her storm-colored eyes narrow the closer I come. When I’m within touching range, I reach out to run my hand down the curve of her oval face.
Simone swats away my hand. “Ugh! Don’t even think about it.”
Internally cursing her fast reflexes, I shake out my hand. “Let me in. I need to make this right.”
“Physical touch isn’t going to make me less pissed. It’s not my love language.”
“Why the fuck not? It’s one of mine. All I need is you near me to relax when I’m ragging.”
One of her eyes twitches. “Ragging! I am not ragging—”
“Could have fooled me.” My temper’s getting the best of me, but I’m not able to get a handle on it. Thank fuck we’re alone in the building. All I need is a bigger audience to see me epically losing my shit. “If you’re expecting an apology, it ain’t coming. I told you I’m a jealous bastard. There was no way I was going to walk into this job without your ex knowing exactly who I am to you.”
“Chase,” Simone sighs, with exacerbation. “We. Are. Dating.”
“Simone,” I mock in the same annoyed tone. “You’re. My. Woman.”
“How can we have a relationship when it’s all one-sided? A relationship needs to be fifty-fifty.”
Every time she brats off, saying we’re dating, more than my temper grows. My cock is rock hard, ready to drive the attitude out of her.
“I agree. How about this? I give you my last name, and you scream my first. There—fifty-fifty.”
“Jesus Christ, can you not think with your dick for one minute? You didn’t take my feelings into consideration,” she accuses me heatedly.
Her comment enrages me. “You’ve got to be kidding me. The orange cockblocker hurt you, and I wanted to give him a reason to stay away.”
“You may have wanted to protect me, but this was more about you staking your claim.”
I flinch, not because her comment hurt, but because she’s not wrong. The whole orchestrated entrance was to warn Trent off by implying she was mine. It made me look like a territorial prick in Simone’s eyes.
“Did Trent hurt me in the past? Yes. But you hurt me today when you treated me like a piece of property to be fought over. You already have me, Chase. Yet you thoughtlessly bulldozed right through the trust I put in you. We discussed how we’d handle Trent—together, as a unit. But it was more important to you to brush my wishes aside and showboat for fucking Trent. Why is it so difficult to get through your thick skull?”
Her response has me frozen solid. An uneasy sensation sweeps over my body, causing my palms to sweat. I rarely get nervous, but anxiety floods my body.
I hurt her.
Why can’t I do or say the right things when it comes to the woman I love? With all the progress I’ve made with proving myself to her, I went and blew it out of the water.
I’m usually fast with a response, quick to smooth shit over. But my head flounders under pressure to formulate the right words to undo the damage I caused.
Fuck Chase, say something. Anything!
When I don’t respond, Simone grabs her purse off the table and pulls her suit jacket off the back of her chair. She doesn’t look back at me as she speed-walks right toward Punk.
