Page 82 of Wicked Takeover
“I know. You should.”
“Why?” He wanted to swear or break something. “I have all the money I need.”
“You don’t have any goddamn thing.” She shook her fists. “He wants to replace you with his own manager. Jasmina, too. Both of you will be gone in two weeks, as soon as you train the other crew to take over.”
Everything went quiet again.
He finally understood that this was really it, and his stomach clenched.
No wonder Lauren had taken so long to return and had been crying when this should have been the happiest day of her life. She’d been scared to tell him his job was over, just like that.
Their time together, too.
Or maybe their relationship had never begun.
He cleared his throat and did his level best to sound supportive when his first urge was to put his fist through the goddamned wall. “I’ll tell Jasmina tomorrow. Don’t worry about us. We’ll be fine.” He grinned so hard his face hurt. “It’s just a job, after all. There’s always another at a new place. Probably better, too. I can’t believe how great this is for your career and future. And believe me, I’ll do whatever it takes to make this as easy as possible on you.”
“Easy? I’m dying here. Can’t you see that?” She got in his face and spoke through her teeth. “Do you want me to go that badly? If you do, say it, dammit. I want to hear the words, not your cheerleading for me to get lost.”
“What are you talking about?” He shouted as she had. “You’re the one who wanted an HR job. Hell, I’m thrilled you got such a good one.”
“So you do want me to go. What we did together was no fucking big deal for you. It was just screwing around with the help.”
“The help? Have you lost your damn mind?” He jabbed his thumb into his chest. “I’m the pissing help.”
“You’re the one who’s always been in charge of this place and me, and you damn well know it. I remember every fucking thing you said, even if you don’t.” She made her voice low-pitched like his. “No more panties from now on. I want you wet whenever I’m near. You have to wear a skirt. No bra, either.” She hollered in her normal voice again. “Like I’d ever fucking do that.”
He narrowed his eyes. “You said you liked it.”
“The games, not going without a bra. What’s wrong with you? Can’t you see how big I am?”
Dante clenched his jaw and crowded her. “Don’t you ever, and I do mean ever, say that again. There is nothing wrong with your goddamn figure.”
“Except it’s too big, and I’m not pretty enough, and—”
“Not pretty enough? Are you blind? You’re fucking beautiful.”
“Stop it, stop it, stop it!” She bounced on her heels. “Don’t try and be nice because you think that’s what I want to hear. It’s not. I don’t need sympathy or kindness when I’m faced with the brutal truth every damn time I look in a freaking mirror. What’s the matter with you? Don’t you ever look at yourself? With your great looks and good heart, every woman who meets you wants you.”
He backed up a step. “Now you’re accusing me of flirting again?”
“Don’t yell at me!”
“You’re doing it to me.”
“I don’t want to.” She wept and then sniffed. “And I’m not accusing you of anything. You don’t flirt. You don’t have to. Even if you don’t notice women, they still want you. That’s why you want me gone. Fine. I am.”
She grabbed her purse, yanked on the locked door, and collapsed against it, racked with sobs.
He didn’t know what to do. This was killing him. “Ah…”
“I’m all right, dammit.” She sniffed. “Soon as I find the key and open this stupid door, I’ll…” She dropped her purse.
Dante rushed to her. “Don’t cry, please.”
“I’m not. Why should I? I’m going. You want me gone and so I’m—”
“No, I don’t. I never said that. I’ve never thought it. But I don’t have the right to ask you to stay.”
