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“We just had the discussion.”
This can’t be happening.I backed away. “How silly of me to think you’d be happy for me,” I yelled.
He moved forward.
I backed farther away, still with the knife in my hand. Bile rose in my throat. “I hate you.” I threw the knife on the counter and ran for the door. “I hate you.” I screamed back at him.
“Amy, let me explain,” he called after me.
I slammed the door on my way out, trying unsuccessfully to control the tears, which were no longer caused by the onion.
How could I be so stupid?
He saw everything as a competition between himself and Winterbourne. Tiffany’s was just a pawn in his overall game.
* * *
Liam
My stomach had turnedthe moment she mentioned the Winterbourne Group. I’d tried to warn her, but she hadn’t listened.
The door slammed, and she was gone.
I was so fucked.
She had no idea who she was dealing with. Getting in bed with Damien Winterbourne was suicidal.
It was the one thing I couldn't allow her to do. I had to protect her from him.
But I had another pressing problem. I dialed Hue Schmulian. “Hue, I'm afraid we’re not going to be able to do dinner tonight,” I told him as he got on the line.
“Just a moment. Let me check with Felicia,” he said before I could stop him. When he returned he said, “Felicia says tomorrow night works as well.”
“I'm not so sure that'll work either,” I said cautiously.
“Is there some problem?”
“Amy can’t make it,” I admitted.
He paused. “Stop me if I'm overstepping my bounds here, Liam. But if you're having some issue with Amy, that needs to take priority over having dinner with us.”
He had guessed the issue without me having to say anything, but he didn't understand the severity of the problem.
“Thanks, Hue. Let me get back to you when I can.”
“Just one more piece of unsolicited advice, young man. That woman of yours is quite special.”
He didn't know the half of it.Specialbarely began to describe Amy. “That she is.”
He finished the call by telling me I should take whatever time I needed. I appreciated his thoughtfulness.
Now I had to question whether my Winterbourne paranoia might be getting the better of me. It was a good thing we still had the Sanders footwear deal running, or we might lose control of the company by the end of the quarter——and somehow I still needed to close the Springbok deal. Wouldn't that be a way to royally fuck things up?
I poured myself a glass of scotch. It didn’t last long.
How could this have gotten fucked up so quickly?
What choice did I have? Let Amy get caught in Winterbourne’s spider web and be devoured like all the others?
