Page 66 of A Very Merry Enemy
“This isn’t a joke,” he says.
“I’m not joking.” The more I think about that scum taking credit for Holiday’s cookies, the angrier I grow.
“He controlled what she wore to events. How much she weighed. Who she could be friends with. Everything she posted on social media had to be approved.” Sammy’s voice drops. “He told her she was too small-town. Too unsophisticated. And she believed he held her professional career in the palm of his hand. Without a reference, years of experience were wasted.”
The words land like punches.
“He trapped her,” I say.
“Yes,” he whispers, staring at the fire.
I breathe out hard, but it’s ragged.
“She escaped Paris, knowing she would lose her entire career.”
My blood runs cold. “Did he hurt her?”
“Mentally.” Sammy’s knuckles are white around his beer. “Mom confronted her, and Holiday eventually broke down and admitted everything. He isolated her and made her doubt herself. It took years, but he had her convinced she was nothing without him and never would be.”
I can’t breathe.
“When she returned, Dominic wouldn’t stop calling her. He’d send letters, telling her how much he loved her. When that didn’t work, he tried to ruin her professional reputation. Called her ungrateful, selfish, talentless, and made sure she was a nobody. He caused a lot of anxiety attacks.”
“She left him, knowing she’d lose it all,” I whisper.
Sammy meets my eyes. “Yes. His connections run deep. Every door she knocked on, he’d already closed and locked it. She’s applied to bakeries in all the major cities. She hasn’t received one call in spite of having over a decade of experience. He knew she’d keep going, and whoever hired her would be his new competition.”
As I stare at the fire, anger surrounds me. A few minutes pass, and then Sammy speaks up again.
“He’s not here to judge cookies.” Sammy leans back. “He wants her back. He needs her to return to Paris. Holiday working for Emma is dangerous for him.”
The fire pops. A log shifts.
“Should we quit this competition?” I ask Sammy, not wanting this to cause Holiday any unnecessary stress, especially if this man was mentally abusive. “If you think we shouldn’t do it, I’ll go down to city hall tomorrow and withdraw, which will pull her out, too.”
“No.” He points at me. “Holiday needs to prove to everyone she doesn’t need him and she never did. She’s been running Emma’s bakery for three weeks, and it’s currently the most successful thing on the farm.”
“I’m aware.”
“Are you? Because from where I’ve been sitting, you’ve been doing nothing but pushing her away and treating her like shit. She needs someone to believe in her. I’m her twin brother. I love her. But I can’t be what she needs right now.” Sammy walks to the fire and stares into it. “You can, though. You always could.”
“Please, don’t?—”
“Before she left for culinary school, you two had something special. Then everything got fucked up.” He turns to look at me. “I watched you guys fall in love. Watched you sneak around, thinking no one knew. Watchedyoufall apart.”
I don’t deny it. I can’t.
“She made mistakes. But that’s not what matters now. The past is in the fucking past, isn’t it?” He crosses back to the couch, sits down. “Dominic is coming here, and you have a choice to make.”
“It’s never been my decision,” I say, nostrils flaring.
“Don’t let him manipulate his way back into her life. You can’t fucking let him whisk her back to Paris or New York or wherever the hell he wants to take her and watch her disappear into his dark web again.” Sammy’s eyes are stern. “Fight for her, show everyone who she belongs to. She doesn’t need hisvalidation or his name or his fucking Michelin stars. But she needs you.”
My heart pounds. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Deny it all you want. That contest isn’t about a trophy anymore, Lucas. It’s about proving a point.” He moves back to the couch and leans his head back on the cushion. “Don’t be a pussy. This is your last chance.”
“Well, this conversation wasn’t on my bingo card for today,” I say, chugging the beer and grabbing another one.
