Page 6 of The Retreat
Imogen’s face hardened, her eyes cold. ‘You want closure?’ she said quietly, her words sharp. ‘Then here it is: Flora made her choice.’
Talia’s body trembled with rage, and without thinking, she grabbed the table nearest and flipped it with a crack.
Imogen’s eyes went wide in surprise. But no one was more surprised than Talia. Public rage was not her style at all, nor was destruction of property. Was this what it was like to go insane?
She wasn’t planning to go any further into the madness. She had to stop. This was too far.
She reached forward and tried to right the table. But as she pulled, the table next to it teetered, its balance disturbed by the motion. It fell, crashing into the one beside it, which then knocked into another. One after another, the tables toppled with a cacophony of splintering wood and shuffling chairs.
Talia stood frozen for a moment, watching the carnage she had unintentionally set in motion. A domino run of lunacy.
As the last table finally crashed to the ground, Talia looked around, her mind still struggling to catch up with what she’d just done.
But then she looked at Imogen’s face—at those bloody doe eyes that had batted at Flora and ruined Talia’s life—and made the decision not to give a damn.
‘Great. Look what you’ve made me do,’ Talia said.
Before Imogen could respond, Talia stormed out of the café, the door swinging shut behind her with a bang.
She didn’t look back. She didn’t want Imogen to know that she was freaking out. Not just from the destruction, but coming face-to-face with someone who played a part in leading her to the very predicament she was now in at work. If not for her, things might have been so very different.
Four
Imogen was looking around her at the devastation Talia had left behind. She couldn’t believe a small lawyer had managed to wreck the place like this. It looked like The Hulk had popped in for a coffee, only to be told they were out of hazelnut syrup.
Of all the people to walk into this out-of-the-way café, it had to be Talia, didn’t it? Imogen had never had an enemy in her life before, but she couldn’t deny she had one now.
That pissed her off. Talia had no right to take the high ground. To make this Imogen’s fault. No one was blameless in the situation. Least of all Talia.
But before she could go much further down the path of who was truly to blame for Talia finding Imogen in bed with her girlfriend on that rainy Tuesday, Imogen was promptly given bigger fish to fry.
‘Imogen!’ Lou called, furious. ‘What the hell is going on?’ she demanded, arms crossed furiously.
Amid the chaos, Imogen couldn’t come up with anything but the truth. ‘Umm, well, that was my ex’s ex, and we kind of have a bad history… I guess she has rage issues?’
‘The place is wrecked because of your personal life? OK. You’re done.’
The words hit her like a punch. She was fired? She hadn’t done anything.
‘Are you serious?’ she asked, voice trembling.
‘You’re supposed tosaveme money, not cost me! Get your things and leave. Now.’
Imogen’s vision blurred with a surge of anger, and she opened her mouth to protest, but the words wouldn’t come. What was the point?
She grabbed her apron and yanked it off, her hands shaking. She slammed it onto the counter. Then, without another word, she turned on her heel and stormed out of the café.
The weight of everything crashing down on her was suffocating. There was no way to catch up now. Rent? Bills? That was a joke at this point. She’d been living on borrowed time for too long, and now the inevitable had arrived. She was out of options.
But one thing was clear. There was no way in hell she was going to let Talia off the hook. She needed a talking to, putting it mildly.
Imogen had no idea what she expected to get out of a confrontation, but she wasn’t going to let her walk away scot-free. No way. Talia was a wealthy lawyer, and she’d just taken what little Imogen had. How was that fair? Did the punishment truly fit the crime? And as for the crime,shewasn’t even the criminal. She was only an accessory after the fact.
It didn’t take long for Imogen to track Talia down. A quick Google search and she had the address of Talia’s company—some fancy building in the financial district.
Imogen found a bus that took her practically to the doorstep, which was some luck at last. It was a hot day, andthe bus was sweltering and packed, which only exacerbated her rage. By the time Imogen reached the tall glass building, she was ready to tear the fucking thing down with her bare hands.
She stormed inside, her heels clicking on the cool air-conditioned tile floor with every step. It was all too polished, too pristine, too fake. She hated everything about it. Everything abouther.
