Page 76 of Play With Me

“I saw the way you looked at him when he told you about the announcement. You can finally haveyour happily ever after, Carmela. And you want to take it, don’t you?”

Cara shoves me back with every ounce of strength she has. “If that’s what you think, then leave!” she cries. “You never thought much of me anyway, did you? This is just your MO, isn’t it?” She gestures between us. “Fuck around with the woman you’re supposed to be protecting. Why don’t you just leave before I actuallydoget hurt!”

I feel her words with the force of a physical slap. Ice shreds my veins, turning my insides into a cold, unfeeling block of numbness. Shock floods her raven orbs at her own callousness. “Anders?—”

“No,” I cut her off, holding up a hand as she tries to reach for me. I take a moment to collect my thoughts, rolling every harsh response around in my mouth before I drop my hand. I don’t know how I let this happen. How I let myself get blinded by her pretty face and her lively banter.

How did I let myself fall in love with the wrong woman again?

“Despite what you think, Carmela, I’m not a fucking dog who’s gonna let you abuse it before I come crawling back. That’s you with Mick. It ain’t me, baby girl.” I can’t even look at her as I turn to leave.

“Anders, wait!” she pleads, surging forward to grab my arm.

I’m not gentle as I shrug her off, propelling herback a few steps. “I’m done talking to you. There’s nothing more to say. At least not tonight.”

This time, she doesn’t try to stop me as I leave.

And the rising pitch of her sobs doesn’t deter me from walking away like I should have done from the start.

Carmela

Frenziedis the best word to describe the absolute chaos that erupts with the news of Mick’s resignation and his impending divorce. It’s been less than twenty-four hours, and multiple news sources are already citing fake statements about an affair with anyone from a woman who worked on his last campaign to his male assistant.

Oh, and let’s not forgetme.

Over the years, I’ve been photographed with Mick multiple times. Sometimes with Kate and sometimes without, usually at a high-society event. ‘An ever-present temptation. Who is Carmela Lane?’ one of the headlines reads.

Who the fuck, indeed.

Carmelita Cabrerais not a woman who takes a man’s shit. She’s not weak, inferior, or a fuckingdoormat to wipe the shit off shiny, new Oxfords. Except, that is exactly whoCarmela Lanehas been for the last fourteen years.

And I’m sick of being stepped on. Of being treated like an option only when it’s clear my body is no longer available whenever Mick wants it. Of letting him dictate what I do withmydaughter.

So why the fuck am I sitting here with Mick while he licks his proverbial wounds and drowns himself in an expensive bottle of whiskey?

I have a man who adores me—well, at least, I think he still does. I tap my phone’s screen to see that Anders still hasn’t reached out. There are still messages sitting in the text box on my end.

Where did you go?

Are you coming back?

I’m sorry.

Messages I never sent, of course, because I’m done letting men treat me like shit, and last night, Anders was way out of line.

Then again, so was I.

I don’t care if I’m being stubborn. I’m so over males. Anders, unfortunately, received the culmination of many years of being treated like I’m less than. Like I’m not good enough to start a business on my own. Like I need the support of a man to run a club that the likes of America has never seen.

A clubIdreamed up.

It wasmyvision.

And it became so successful.

A success that the leading male in my life largely accepted as his own.

“You can’t hide out here forever, Mick. Désirer was not the destination I meant when I told you to hide.” I slide the bottle over the bar top and pour myself a shot.

---