Page 78 of Rulebreaker
Don’t background check the people around me, she’d said–or had basically said, anyway. Don’t delve into their private lives, respect their past, their secrets, be open to them sharing them with me when they’re ready.
And it was…
Fuck, it was all a goddamned lie.
Her throat works, as though she’s swallowing down tears. “I’ve been trying to find the right time to tell you,” she whispers.
I snort.
“I swear,” she says. “I was going to tell you this morning and?—”
“What’s the end game here?” I ask, the words so frigid they hurt the back of my teeth as they come out, frost the air. “Play the billionaire? Get him to fall for you?” I shove my phone backinto my pocket, then one hand and then the other, the better to not strangle her.
Or maybe, to not show her how much my hands are fucking shaking.
The betrayal coursing through me…
It’s a violently powerful thing.
“I know it’s not for money,” I clip out. “You have enough of it on your own. So what was it? Rich girl needs her kicks? Or maybe you’re trying to secure a business deal for your husband–does he need money to fund a label?”
“It’s not what you think,” she says, taking a step toward me and lifting a hand.
Like she might touch me.
Absolutely not.
Fuck no.
“You need to get your stuff together,” I say. “I’ll arrange for your flight back to Tennessee.”
“Atlas, please listen to me.”
I clench my hands–still in my pockets–into fists and grind my teeth together. “You need to go.”
“I can explain, I swear.”
“Lily, you need to leave.”
“But I can?—”
“Just get your shit and fucking go!”I shout, throwing an arm out and sweeping the contents off the top of the table.
Glasses go flying, shattering on the tile, sending shards of glass in all directions, orange juice splattering
The cinnamon rolls cascade down beside the mess, ruined and inedible.
Silverware clatters, napkins flutter.
My omelets that I’d painstakingly cooked, wanting them to be perfect for Lily, are reduced to slop.
To shit.
This whole thing–the thing I thought was beautiful and special andmine…it’s shit.
Lies and manipulation and?—
She’s still standing there, staring at me with tears streaming down her cheeks. I want to hate her–needto–but I still have the sick urge to step close and take her into my arms.
