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“Boss, that's enough,” Romero warns and pulls me away from the table. He backs me up to the window, placing himself between me and the evil bitch still glaring at me.
Fuck. I'm not proud of that. All the fighting against playing into her hand, and I did it anyway. She got the reaction she wanted out of me.
“I promise you,” I warn, straightening my suit as I sidestep Romero to look her in the eye. “You will get exactly what's coming to you and then some. All of the shit you've put in place will come back and bite you in the ass, and I can only hope I'm there to see it happen.”
“Is that a threat?” she asks in a sickeningly sweet voice. “Because we are in a room full of lawyers, and it’s not exactly the best time to threaten me.”
I grant her a smile that makes her breath catch. The smile people see before they realize they’ve pushed me too far and there’s no going back. “Not a threat, sweetheart. A promise. You’re playing with fire, and we all know what happens to people who do that.”
“We’d better call an end to this.” Bob wastes no time gathering everybody and ushering them out of the conference room. Amanda glares at me, almost pouting as she leaves. Almost like she believed she would have gotten somewhere tonight. Like the mention of Bianca would inspire me to sign on the dotted line.
She never was one for subtlety.
Romero blows out a heavy sigh once we’re alone, with Bob showing everyone else to the door. “So much for playing it cool.”
“Was I supposed to sit idly and let her insult Bianca that way? I don’t give a shit what Amanda thinks about me. She does not disrespect the woman I—”
He lifts his brows yet says nothing, only waiting by the door for me to cool down and give the other team time to clear out of the building before we go. I wouldn’t trust myself to do the right thing if I had to set eyes on her again this evening.
I never imagined blowing up the way I did. It isn’t me, especially not when there’s so much at stake. Not in front of a half-dozen lawyers. Specifically not when it was so clearly what she wanted. None of those things matter, in any case. When it comes to Bianca, all bets are off. There’s no predicting what I will or won’t be able to endure when she’s involved.
The thought of her unravels a deep unsatisfied need. It’s only been a couple of hours since I saw her outside Charlie’s dump, but it might as well be a lifetime. I crave her, burn with the need to possess her. Only I can’t. I can’t do anything, not while she’s there.
“Let’s go,” I decide, already crossing the room. “I have things to do at home.”
Like watching her. I need to see her, to hear her, to exist even on the fringes of her world because it’s better than enduring the emptiness of being without her.
That's all I have to go on. It won’t be this way forever. Bianca will be mine again in due time. I just have to devise a plan to get her back.
And I think I know the perfect place to start.
“I know that look.” Romero’s voice drips disapproval as we step out of the elevator in the parking garage. “You’re plotting something.”
“And if I am?” I counter. “I pay you to make things happen, not to judge me.”
“Just promise one thing.” He comes to a stop at the driver’s side door, throwing me a fatigued look over the roof of the car. “Promise I won’t have to break into a girl’s bedroom again.”
“This time, I’ll be working solo,” I assure him before climbing into the car.
Don’t worry, Bianca. We’ll be together again soon.
BIANCA
The porch light makes Tatum’s golden hair gleam as she stands on tiptoes, peering over Dad's shoulder to see me. “Hey,” she exhales, and there's a world of relief in that single syllable. The worry lines etched on her forehead and between her brows loosen.
“See, she’s fine. You've seen her with your own eyes,” Dad snarls. “Now, it's time to go.”
“Dad,” I groan in dismay. She didn't do anything to him, to either of us. I'm sure his sudden change in attitude hurts her. He's never been anything but warm and friendly with her until now, and while he’s angry at Callum, he needs to realize that Tatum isn’t her father.
“This is my house,” he reminds me, looking at me over his shoulder grimly. “I think I still have a say in who does and doesn't step over my threshold. No matter how she puffs out her chest and throws threats around.”
I hope she understands how sorry I am when I wrap a hand around his wrist and tug him back away from the door. “Dad, she’s my friend. You’ve never had any issues with her coming over before.” I tug again, and this time he looks at me, and I hope he gets the message when I stare up at him. I can't say it out loud, not in front of her.
