Page 120 of The Love Destroyers

“Do you want to know what Jeffrey has planned for you?”

Her gaze narrows on me. “I don’t trust you.”

“I know. I also know that you’re thirty-six.”

A gasp escapes her, and anger floods her eyes. She slams the red button on her phone screen, turning the recording off.

“Who told you that?” she hisses as she leans over the table.

“Jeffrey knows, and he plans on telling everyone. As soon as he gets what he came to Asheville to get. The information you said you have on him.”

“We’ve been having some issues, sure, but he wouldn’t do that,” she objects.

I can tell I’m getting through to her, though.

“He wouldn’t leak it directly, so it could be traced back to him,” I agree. “After all, he’s the one who created those documents for you.”

She blanches again at this evidence that I know what I’m talking about.

“But he’d do it to ruin you,” I continue. “That’s what he does to women after he gets tired of them. Especially if they’ve threatened him. He’ll do anything to protect himself, Ellie. He’ll step on anyone.”

“I don’t believe you,” she insists, but she’s obviously worried. I can see it in the slight trembling of her lips and the way she keeps fidgeting with the neckline of her dress, flecked with beer splatter. I’m cold now, my wet dress clingy and uncomfortable. “You’re trying to turn me against him.”

“I am,” I agree. “I want that information you have so we can ruin him. He’s the one who deserves it, not you or me or whoever else he’s decided to crush beneath his heel. Do you know what he called you when he handed your case over to me? An over-dramatic harpy.”

“You’re lying.”

I pull something up on my phone and pass it across the table to her. It’s a screenshot of the email Jeffrey wrote to her social media star frenemy, from a burner email address, asking if they’d have any interest in some juicy information about Ellie Reed.

Her face is drawn as she glances at me, and for once, she almost looks her age. “This could be from anyone.”

“Don’t you know who it’s from in your gut?”

She considers this for a few seconds, before saying abruptly, “Where’s the other assistant, the sexy one? I want to hire him back. He wouldn’t have left because of some broken glass and spilled beer. I should never have let Nicky keep him away from me.”

“No. He already bruised a rib for you.”

For me.

“He has Carrot,” she says. “I need his contact information.Immediately.”

“He has Carrot,” I agree. “And he’s going to keep Carrot. You were drugging that rabbit so he’d act docile on camera. Do you deny it?”

“Ineedthat rabbit,” she snaps, glaring at me. “You can’t keep him from me. He’s part of my brand.”

“He’s a living, breathing being. We all have the right to be treated with decency.” I think of Seamus stroking him between his ears and feel that awful burning behind my eyes.

“He’s my property.”

The burning sensation turns to rage, thank God, because I would never forgive myself if I cried in front of her. “You forget. Jeffrey’s not the only one who knows your little secret. Seamus is keeping the bunny, and you can sleep at night knowing someone who likes him is actually taking care of him. Get a stuffed animal if you want a mascot. It wouldn’t need to pretend to like you.”

She gapes at me, then looks around for something else to throw. The closest thing is a napkin, which she grabs and balls. The missile misses me by several inches.

“Ihateyou!” she says, spit flying from her mouth.

“What about Jeffrey? Do you hate the man who wants to ruin you just because he can? Because you might be aninconvenienceto him? Doesn’t that make you angry?”

Her expression changes, some resolve forming on her face. “We’ll see about that,” she says, and then grabs her phone and storms out of the room, her effort slightly downplayed by the necessity to step around the remaining pieces of broken glass.

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