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“Well, I applaud your commitment. Not many people would whore themselves out for revenge.”
I see the exact moment my words land: a red flush creeps up her neck, and Georgina flinches. “It wasn’t like that,” she whispers. “Those parts weren’t fake.”
“Of course they were.” My back aches like an old man’s as I push to my feet. She scuttles back like she’s scared of me, and I’m glad about that. Iwanther to be afraid. Better afraid than coming closer, trying to touch me, wearing down my walls. “But the restraining order will be very real.”
Her chin wobbles. “Restraining order? Levi, wait, just listen for a moment—”
“I told you not to call me that, and I have listened. I’ve heard plenty.”
What else is there to know? It was all a lie, and now she has everything she needs to ruin me. Does she have photos of us together somehow? Video of last night? The PR department will lose their minds over this. Christ.
“Take your things and go.” My strides eat up the office floor, and it feels good to be moving, all this burning hot energy coursing around my body. “And if you come near me again, thenIwill ruinyou. Believe me, Miss Olsen, I have the resources to do a much better job of it.”
“Levi…”
I leave her there by my desk, looking so lost and alone.
Good riddance.
* * *
I don’t find Georgina’s letter until three days have passed, and I’m roaming around the top floor after 6pm, too restless to settle. It’s on her chaotic desk—the desk she didn’t stop to clean out before she fled the building. Even the jacket is still there, one sleeve dangling against the floor.
I brush my fingertips against the fabric, then stuff my fist in my pocket.
Ridiculous. Georgina Olsen is a curse, not someone to mourn.
But… the letter is right there, her keyboard pushed out of the way so she could write by hand. The paper is covered in scratched out lines and notes in the margins, an absent minded doodle of a rabbit in the top corner.
I was never meant to see this version, clearly. Well, secrets are our thing. Flicking on the lamp, I pluck the letter off the desk, my jaw clenched so hard my teeth ache.
Three days.
God, I miss her.
But let’s see what fresh lies she had in store. Let’s see the PR spin Georgina planned to give her own actions. Lord knows I could use the reminder that she’s better off gone.
I read the whole thing, face etched in a scowl. Then read it a second time, a lump lodged in my throat. By my third read-through, my chest is a hollowed out crater, because it’s not what I expected. Not at all.
In the letter, she confesses everything.Everything. Even things I hadn’t realized were her. And she begs me to forgive her so that we can move forward… together. A fresh start.
Before she signs off, she says she loves me. The paper crinkles as I clench my fist.
Lie, my brain shouts.
But my heart and body say otherwise, because of the way she kissed me so hungrily, groaning against my lips; the way she fussed over me, trying to get me to sleep more.
Why do those things as part of her revenge plan? It makes no sense, and after a few days to cool down, I can see things more clearly. One kiss, maybe—that would be enough to ruin me. But dozens of heated encounters, far away from prying eyes? Dragging each other into supply cupboards and alcoves; pressing each other against tree trunks in the city park?
Georgina had nothing to gain from those things. Nothing except me.
“Fuck,” I say, my voice so loud in the silent office.
Georgina.
I’ve messed up.
Nine
