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How did I get myself here? So easily become intimate with a man—more than any man—and have no clue who he actually is?
Despite what I read online about him, those texts could easily be from women who he sees on the side. It’s not a far-fetched thought because let’s face it, women throw themselves at him. What about that Farrah Beaumont.
Am I that stupid to have jumped into a relationship with this man so quickly?
Questions, endless questions.
“Let’s reschedule New York for next week. Perfect, I guess, since Logan’s in town and can take care of Lola.”
“Next week?” I ask, forgetting for a moment Wesley’s sitting across from me.
“Yes, sorry, is that okay?” Emerson asks.
“Of course.” I smile, purposely meeting his gaze.
Wesley taps his fingertips on the table, leaning back in his chair with a slightly annoyed glare.
“Thank God.” Emerson smiles with relief. “Vancouver we can bring forward to the following Saturday. Actually, why don’t we go straight from New York? Let’s get it out of the way. I’ll have Logan meet us there.”
“Sounds like a plan—”
“Shoot!” she exclaims, worried. “There’s that meeting in Portland the following week.”
“Don’t worry, I can go. It might work out well. I plan to head back home for two days anyway, so I might swing it afterward if you don’t mind? I wouldn’t mind a change of scenery.”
“My God, no. You’re saving my life right now. Go see your family or boyfriend… what’s his name again?”
I cough, almost choking at her bringing Liam up. “Um… Liam.”
“That’s right.” Charlie smiles, rather cheekily. “How could we forget?”
Wesley slams his fist on the table, eyes blazing right at me. “Are we done discussing Milana’s personal life? I also have better things to do.”
“Like what?” I bite back, folding my arms.
My forwardness throws him a curveball, his expression turning from anger to annoyance in a matter of seconds.
This game we play—it’s deadly.
We’re both driven by jealousy and its ugly traits. It’s almost murderous.
“My personal life, Miss Milenov, remains no one’s business but my own.”
The room goes dead silent.
I want to tell Wesley we’re done, that I can’t continue second-gues
sing myself and this relationship, and that my heart continues to ache from missing Mama and home. The guilt of hurting Phoebe and Liam lays heavy on my shoulders.
And most importantly—I will never be Emerson.
“I have to go get Lola. We’re done.” Emerson stacks her papers, standing up and waiting for Wesley to respond.
“As done as we can be,” Wesley scoffs.
Charlie rolls her eyes at them both, following Emerson’s lead and saying goodbye, leaving me alone with Wesley.
The wrath of Wesley Rich will come undone. I can smell it in the air. Wesley’s stare is cold, his eyes wide without blinking.
