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I’m not sure what I’ve just done, but I do know my sense of moral conduct has just cost me the best thing I’ve had in my life since Kyle.
I told Dominic I feared he would corrupt me, but I didn’t expect my refusal to be corrupted would hurt this much.
I collapse into the fetal position. Not crying, just getting reacquainted with the familiar feeling of loneliness. It’s like muscle memory and spreads freely through my bones, into the darkest crevices of my soul.
And there, well-hidden, I discover Dominic has never been the best thing since Kyle.
He is the best thing. Period. I love the man. I love him more than anything or anyone in my life.
And I will never get to tell him that.
Chapter22
Dominic
“Are you trying to break the world record for the number of consecutive burnouts in one year?” T leans in my doorway.
She is dressed to the nines in stilettos, a red pencil skirt and a white button-down shirt tucked into her high waistline. There is not a wrinkle on her clothes despite the late hour, and what I would estimate has been a ten-hour workday.
She looks professional, sexy and unapproachable. We used to flirt a lot. Not because either of us wanted to cross the line. She is too good of a paralegal to ruin our working relationship. We just enjoyed the innuendo.
But she could be topless or even naked right now and I wouldn’t give a shit.
“I didn’t fucking burn out,” I snarl and take a sip of my whiskey. This has been my modus operandi since I returned to Chicago last week.
Eight days ago, to be precise. I snarl instead of talk, and I drink—not in excess, yet, but still.
Chils was right—my stay in New York didn’t change much in the end.
It changed everything. Though that’s something I’m refusing to acknowledge.Everythingseems too much. And I still have my work, so it can’t be everything.
Some things, just to mess with me, haven’t changed. Other things definitely have. Like this office doesn’t feel mine anymore. My clients spark only a little drive. T is annoying. That hasn’t changed. Or has it?
I don’t know anymore, because people around me have lost their dimension. They are like cardboard figures littering my path, there just to piss me off.
The only multi-dimensional person in my life is… No, I’m not going there. She is not in my life anymore, anyway.
“Glad to see you imported New York’s arrogance. It goes so well with your charming personality.” T walks over and sits in the chair across from me.
She leans back comfortably and crosses one long leg over the other. Clearly my snarling scares off most of my employees, but Theodora is not one of them.
Eight days, seven hours and twenty-two minutes. The time ticks away in a weird state of detachment. I’m not the person who left here months ago. And I’m not the person I discovered in New York. I’m a shell of the two. A pathetic shell.
I never fail, yet my relationship with Chils feels like a gigantic defeat. Unlike with other setbacks, when I simply analyzed and corrected course or avoided the downfall altogether, this time I just want to forget.
It’s not working. With every passing day, every passing hour, I feel worse. Like I’ve made a mistake. Not that I’d know how that feels.
I kill myself in the gym twice a day, and I spend the rest of my waking hours working or tossing and turning in bed. Sometimes I sleep—briefly—on my sofa here. I fucking hate failure.
My house doesn’t feel like home. It’s cold and empty, only adding to my misery. I’m going to sell it. It has always been too big for me. A smaller apartment closer to the office would make more sense.
Once Napoli’s case is over, I’ll call my realtor. The seed of the idea doesn’t sprout, just dies immediately, failing to bloom because everything around me is a wasteland.
“Is there anything you need?” I glower at T, perched in front of me with her Mona Lisa smile. A bit too comfortable for my taste—or my current dislike of everything and everyone. She doesn’t even flinch, which pisses me off.
“The question is, ifyouneed anything? You’ve been working. I think.” She circles her long manicured finger around the mess on my desk with a scrunched-up nose, as if it was sprayed by a skunk. “Yet you haven’t asked for anything in the past three days.”
“What’s your point?” This conversation is exhausting. All conversations have been exhausting lately. I hate people.
