Page 45 of My Totally Unfair Deal

I blink, unsure how to respond. “Give me the third reason.”

“Well, it’s…” He trails off.

But I’m no longer listening. Eliza just darted past the windows—face flushed, eyes glassy.

What the hell?

As Greg keeps fumbling for a final reason, I pull out my phone.

Me

Why is Eliza running down the street? Did she get tired of waiting for you to make it to the garage in traffic?

Harold

She refused to get in the car after shopping. I was planning to tell you once you were done with your meeting.

“She’s my princess,” Greg says finally. “I’m her knight in shining armor, and I’m going to slay whatever dragons I need to in order to get her back.”

“You’re a fucking simp if you try to get her back.” I rise, already done with this conversation. “Her skills probably are incredible—since she used them on six different men while cheating on you. And she knew damn well you had the potential to make money, even when you weren’t making it yet. That’s why every guy she cheated with works on Wall Street too. Do you not see the pattern?”

“I…” His face pales. “I guess I… Okay. I needed a wake-up call. Thank you.”

“I’m charging you for this shit.” I roll my eyes. “Expect an invoice by the end of the night.”

“Do you know any women who give great blowjobs for a fee? Maybe that’s what I need to look into next.”

I don’t respond. I just head to the elevator and hit the button harder than necessary.

The doors glide open. Eliza’s inside, staring straight ahead at the mirrored glass.

“Were you planning to go up?” I ask.

She doesn’t answer, but tears are silently sliding down her face.

I hit the button for my floor and type in the passcode. Then I step closer and gently wipe her cheeks with my fingertips.

I never thought I’d see her cry.

“Can you tell me why you decided to walk home instead of getting in the car?” I ask.

“This place will never be my home,” she says, voice cracking. “Never.”

As the elevator rises, I study her. She rummages through her purse and pulls out my black card.

“Here.” She holds it out to me. “It didn’t make a damn bit of difference. Oh, wait. Sorry—allow me to rephrase that.”

She clears her throat and, despite the tears, recites in near-perfect polish, “It’s quite unfortunate that your card was unable to be of assistance during my shopping excursion today.”

I’m torn between being impressed with her delivery and furious that something clearly went wrong.

“Please don’t make me do this anymore,” she says as the doors slide open. “Surely you can help Jackson figure out another way to fix what’s not broken. I’d like to be left alone now. Thank you.”

She steps out before I can respond, but I follow, catching her by the elbow just before she disappears into her room.

“They saw right through me,” she says, voice breaking. “Just like the women at that goddamn brunch. One of them looked me up and down and asked if I was someone's assistant. Another told me I had a‘sweet accent.’They knew I didn’t belong there.”

She swallows hard.

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