Page 16 of My Bossy Billionaire Attorney

It feels amazing!

Amazing!

I pump my fist in the air.

“Alright, let’s meet,” I say.

“Today?” He asks.

“OK, today if you insist. Get your shit together Brandon so I don’t have to hear that you’re living in a tent under a bridge,” I giggle.

“Where do you want to meet?”

***

I see Brandon as I walk into the restaurant. The man I used to know, confident, and charming, did not look back at me.

Instead, a pathetic person with sad eyes and slumped shoulders stares at me as I walk towards the table. I place my bag on the table and sit down, crossing my legs.

“That suit looks familiar. Hmm,” I wonder.

“Oh,” I snap my fingers, “I know. I bought it for you. Did you wear it to tug at my emotions? I’m sorry, but the Savannah that had feelings for you lives no more. If anything, I loathe the day I set eyes on you.”

“I shouldn’t have let my father pressure me into getting engaged,” I continue.

“Savannah, I—"

I raise a hand. “I’m not done. Remember what you said to me when I confronted you? You said that you fell out of love with mea long time ago. I stood there, crying, and you didn’t feel even the slightest remorse for me. Why should I feel—”

Noticing the waitstaff approaching our table, I stop talking. When he gets to us, I tell him we will not have anything except water.

“Because I won’t spend any more time than necessary seated across from you. The moment I’m done saying my peace, I’m leaving,” I make it clear to Brandon.

I see the fear in his eyes. “What about the ring?”

Opening my bag, I bring out a beautiful blue velvet box.

“The ring is in here. But I’m not certain I want to give it to you just yet. I’d like for you to suffer just a little bit more. For you to feel what it’s like when your life is crumbling around you.”

“I lost my job, Savannah.”

I shrug. “Not my problem. Sounds like your boss sees it my way too. I mean ex-boss. Looks like you are racking up the exes. I’m just here to get my pound of flesh before the line forms.”

“What do you want from me?” He asks in frustration, and I see—if I’m not mistaken—tears in his eyes.

The need to make him suffer dies and is replaced with pity.

“You know what,” I say “I’ll give you the ring. I don’t think I care about you enough to take a personal interest in your life any longer. If selling the ring helps you, fine. If it doesn’t, fine. I don’t care.”

“Here,” I hand it over.

He snatches it from my hand.

“Thank you!”

His voice is loud enough that it attracts attention from other people in the restaurant, and I shake my head. The Brandon I knew would never raise his voice for fear of being seen as anything other than a man in total control.

Brandon always watched how people perceived his manners in public. That and the fact that he knew how to please my father was why he pushed me toward marriage.

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