Page 22 of The Bonus

That he’s an asshole and I’m pathetic.

Well, screw you.

I turn and walk out the front doors as my angry heartbeat sounds in my ears.

Fucking fuckface, big dick, fucking twathead, asswipe.

His blacked-out Range Rover is parked in his bay, and I storm over to it. His driver, Mark, is behind the wheel, and he jumps out when he sees me. “Good evening, Grace.” He smiles.

“Hi, Mark, could you give me a lift home?”

“Sure thing.” He opens the door and I climb in.

“Did you have a good night?” He smiles as he pulls out into the traffic.

I fake a smile as I look out the window. “It was just okay, a bit boring if I’m honest.”

He chuckles. “Aren’t all work Christmas parties?”

I stare out the window as New York flies by.

The sky is red as my apocalyptic anger begins to burn.

Fuck. You.

4

Grace

I cannot believe that just happened.

All those years of longing and pining…and damn it. I hate that the sex was as good as I imagined it would be. But…to act like that after it? Just, what the fuck?

The car comes to a halt as a crossing guard holds up a stop sign for a delivery truck that is reversing onto a building site.

My mind is running at a million miles per minute, I’m shocked. Shockder than shocked, and shockder isn’t even a word.

We wait for the delivery truck as I go over the last hour’s events. You know what…this is good.

This is the closure that I needed. The proof that the man I stupidly pined over for all these years doesn’t even exist. He’s not sweet and loyal underneath. He doesn’t care about anyone but his selfish self.

Gabriel Ferrara is a bona fide bastard to the bone.

Just like the world thinks he is.

“Just going to take a call,” Mark tells me. He’s wearing a headpiece, so I didn’t hear it ring.

“That’s fine.”

He taps his ear to answer. “Hello,” he says, he listens for a moment. “Yes, okay.” He listens again. “Tomorrow is fine.” He listens again. “Okay, I’ll chase it up. Goodbye.” He hangs up.

Must be Mark’s girlfriend or something, I wonder what it’s like to date someone like him where he’s working all hours.

I go back to my daydream, also known as the murder plot.

You know what…fuck him.

Who the hell does he think he is, seduces me in his office, fucks me on his desk, comes inside of me? He didn’t even offer a condom; I probably have an STI now.

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