Page 70 of It's About Time
His nose touches the shell of my ear, so I retract, putting a few more inches of space between us. “You seem different. What’s changed?”
Myeyes find his and that’s when I decide to lay the groundwork for Motorlux in four weeks. “I’m finally being fucked the way I need and deserve. Myfiancéknows what he’s doing in the bedroom, which is more than I can say forsomeof my former lovers.”
Vinnie’s eyes narrow, but a smirk slowly spreads across his lips. “Fiancé, huh? Please don’t tell me you found another guy in the industry who has been duped by your sweet ass.”
“The only person who was duped in our relationship was me, Vinnie. And trust me, I learned my lesson. No more dipping my pen in the company ink, if you catch my drift.”
He takes a step back, assessing me slowly. “So, what does your fiancé do?”
“He’s a lawyer.”
He scoffs. “Really? You’re with a man in a suit?”
“I am. And he isn’t threatened by my job, which is more than I can say forsomepeople.”
Vinnie’s smirk falls. “Well, I assume he’ll be at Motorlux then?”
“He will.”
“Good. Can’t wait to meet him.”
He moves to walk away, but waves at me over his shoulder. “See you in a few weeks, Dilynne. Can’t wait to see your Porsche. I hope you’ve brought your A-game.”
I watch him leave and when he’s fully out of view, only then does the tension begin to drain from my body.
“Shit,” I mutter to myself, turning and heading in the other direction, toward the exit near where my Camaro is parked outside.
Once I’m safely in the driver’s seat and I’ve cranked the engine, I peel out of the parking lot and find the highway, headed back to Blossom Peak as fast as I can manage.
But my blood is still boiling.
“Fuck him,” I grate out. Not even music could help me calm down right now as I replay our conversation, the one that was several years in the making.
And yet again, I feel like I’m right back where I was five years ago, taking every word of his to heart as if it’s gospel.
Vinnie never wanted me to be successful because if I were, I would outshine him. He didn’t want me to have a voice or goals. He only wanted me to help him and then take all of the credit, just like he did at the first and only Motorlux we attended together.
I remember standing next to the stage, so proud of him after he won, and waiting for him to acknowledge how much I helped him, how hard we workedtogetheron the car he won Best in Show for.
But nothing.
Not my name.
Not an acknowledgment to a partner.
No mention of a girlfriend.
Nothing.
He took full credit for all of it—all ofmytime,myresearch,myexpertise. He used me and then when I confronted him about it, he told me that I would never be taken seriously in this industry, so I might as well get used to it now.
That’s when I also found out he was sleeping with someone behind my back, all ready to move on once the shit hit the fan because he knew I wouldn’t take his choice sitting down.
I got my revenge—bear shit isn’t easy to find, by the way.
But it never fully healed the damage he’d done.
He fed into every insecurity I had.
