Page 29 of Worth Every Moment
I raise a hand to stop her. “If you tell me you’reErica Fucking Lefroylike she’s not you and you want to hide behind your fucking brand again, I swear I will—”
“What?” She bites out. “What will you do?”
Tension crackles.
“I’ll bend you over and fuck the brat out of you.”
An outraged squeal pops out of her mouth. “Is that what you wanted to do tonight?”
Yes. No. I don’t fucking know.“Don’t pretend this is about my behaviour,” I grit out. “This is your shit. Not mine.”
“My shit?”
“Yeah. This isn’t about my sex life, or you trying to put me back on the straight and narrow out of the goodness of your heart. This isn’t even about our friendship. This is about you and your business. Your career. Your precious reputation. Yourbrand.” My tone is scathing. “Don’t pretend it’s anything other than that. I know that’s what you care about the most.”
Rage flickers intensely over Erica’s beautiful face. “I do care about it. I don’t have the luxury ofnotcaring. I didn’t grow up with a silver spoon in my mouth like you did.”
I scoff. “A silver spoon? Make it gold at least. Platinum, even better.”
“Don’t mock me,” she spits. “Those spoons are so far down your throat you’re probably shitting them out. No one put a spoon in my mouth. I grafted for it. Every day. I showed up everyfuckingday to achieve my goals. I took itseriously. I did everything I was told to do…” She falters, and something like pain flickers across her face. If she hadn’t already irritated thehell out of me, I’d acknowledge it. But she has, so I stay quiet. “And now I’m here—”
“Right at the top,” I sneer.
Her hand slashes through the air. “I will not slide back down. And you… your reputation woulddestroymine. What we’ve built.”
“We?”
“My mother and I.We. She sacrificed her whole life to make mine count. I can’t destroy that. It would—”
“Jesus, Erica. This isn’t the 1950s. You don’t need your mother’s permission. You can date who you want to date. You can fuck who you want to fuck. You can screw around—”
“I can’t! One misstep and the whole thing falls apart. Years of work.” She clenches both fists and whines through gritted teeth. “You have no idea what it takes to build a brand. You put on your suit and march into Daddy’s company without a care in the world. You don’tknow, Seb. You don’t fucking know what it took me to get here.” Her finger jabs towards the floor, as if this particular spot in the gallery hall is where she’s been aiming her entire life. “You couldn’t do what I’ve done. You couldn’t sacrifice everything I’ve sacrificed to get here. You think you can turn up to my shows with your bouquets of flowers, not taking a single thing seriously, all while I’m working my arse off to—”
“If you were with me, you’d never have to work your arse off. You wouldn’t have to lift a finger another day in your life. You could forget all of this.” My arm swipes through the air, up and down her body so violently it’s as if I’m intending her to become a different person entirely.
Her mouth falls open and her eyes glisten with unshed tears. “You want me to forget everything I’ve worked for?” Her voice is quiet but full of heartbreak that messes me up inside.
I close my eyes, pinching the bridge of my nose so hard it hurts even after I release it. “All I meant is that I’d look after you.I’d take care of everything. You could let the whole fucking act drop.”
She gasps like I’ve stuck a knife into her. “This isn’t an act.” She pokes her sternum. “This is me. This is all I have.Erica Lefroy. And you… you couldneverunderstand that.” She holds up a hand to stay any movement I might make. “I’m leaving. Do not come after me.”
She juts her chin and paces towards the lift. I try not to run after her, but my resolve lasts two seconds.
“Don’t walk away from me when I can still taste you on my tongue.”
She rears back, spinning to face me, a look of utter disdain crossing her face. “If the way I taste is bothering you, go home and brush your teeth.” She almost turns away before rethinking it. “Or better yet, go and find someone else to stick your tongue in. Isn’t that what you’re good at? Why not go for a fucking hattrick tonight?”
I can’t take another second of this shit. I thrust my hand into my pocket and scrunch the scrap of lace I grabbed from the gallery floor. Erica’s thong. I pull it out and offer it to her on a flat palm. “I was going to keep this, but as you so rightly pointed out, I’m a manwhore. I have a whole fucking collection of women’s underwear, and I sure as shit don’t need to add yours.” I thrust my hand a little closer. “Especially not when you’re just as meaningless as all the others.”
Her breath hitches as she stares at the thong. Fine lines appear at the corners of her eyes and she screws them shut, almost as though she’s bracing through a wave of pain.
Neither of us moves, but the air between our bodies has a charge that burns my skin. I can’t look at her, because if I do the sight of her suffering will break me. The thong sits in my hand like a grenade I’ve yet to throw.
“Take it,” I insist.
Her eyes flick to mine, dark and full of a stormy defiance. “Fuck you, Seb.Fuck. You.” She snatches it and marches towards the lift.
Confusion and anger thrum in my blood as the doors open and Erica steps inside without a backward glance. The lift whisks her away and I stride to the nearest wall, fisting a hand and thumping the pad of it against the plaster. A groan scrapes up my throat, and I let out a fury-filled, “Fuck!”
