Page 28 of Tangled Ambition

“I swear to god.” I grabbed hold of my scissors. “If you tell me one more time how tired or raggedy I look, I will murder you right here and now.”

He backed away, hands up, the picture of innocence. “For the record, I never said you looked raggedy.” He lifted one shoulder, a smirk curving his stupid mouth. “Might have implied it, but never said it.”

I slapped the scissors back down and pointed to his desk, a few feet ahead of mine. “Go away.”

Instead of leaving, he stood there, one hand in his pocket, the other scratching at his beard, while he stared down at me. “Did you have fun last night?”

“Loads.”

He dragged his thumb over the corner of his mouth, like he’d eaten something delicious, and I crossed my legs at the fluttering it sent between my thighs. “You missed us playing ‘Devil Woman,’” he said. “I could have dedicated it to you.”

“Your hordes of female fans would be so jealous.”

“I’d bear it for you.”

When I stiffened, he seemed to recognize what he’d said. Not that it meant anything,I’d bear it for you. It was clearly a jab at how he’d give up everything else for another chance to insult me by calling me the devil. But the words he spoke didn’t jive with the implication. A mistake he tried to rectify.

“Like you say all the time, I do love attention.”

It was a halfhearted cover-up at best, and I hunched over my desk, my head in my hands. “I need to get the Sunset complaint in today. I’m waiting on your review of it.”

“Yeah, okay,” he said, then pivoted around to his desk.

He emailed me the review, and we didn’t speak for the rest of the afternoon.

Thank god.

I cut out earlier than usual, a few minutes after Dominic left for the day, with little more than a wave to Sandy, the office admin. It was raining, and I bundled myself in my scarf and coat before marching out to my car, but by the time I dropped down behind the steering wheel, I was soaking wet. I lifted my chin to peer at my reflection in the rearview mirror and let out a shuddered breath.

Iwasraggedy.

My hair was matted against my head, my skin sallow and makeup smudged. I wiped my finger along my bottom lashes in an attempt to fix my liner, but my eyes suddenly stung with tears, and I blinked a few times to clear them.

More formed, falling over my cheeks, dropping to my lips. I wiped at them, but it was a useless task. I had started and couldn’t stop. At least the shield of the rain outside would mask my humiliation from anyone who got within a few feet of my car to witness me crying.

This was what happened. I kept my emotions bottled up, and then they eventually exploded. Normally, I’d cry in the shower, the water washing away any evidence of my weakness. Lather, rinse, repeat.

Unfortunately, I didn’t have the luxury of breaking down right now. I had an appointment to get to, yet I couldn’t pull myself together. I covered my face, heaving into my palms, my skin wet with my tears.

I didn’t know how long I sat there, my hiccupping breaths the only sound to break up the dull pounding of the rain on the roof of my car. Long enough for the office to close, I supposed, because suddenly there was a knock on my window.

I gasped and scrubbed at my eyes, only for my tears to blur my vision at the sight of Dean goddamn Hargrove standing there under an umbrella. He rapped one knuckle quietly, as if asking for permission, and I tried to find a tissue. Coming up empty, I blotted my face with a receipt from the console.

“Open up,” he said, and I don’t know why I did, turning the engine over to roll the window down. His sandy hair was brown from the rain, his brows wrinkled as he took me in. “What’s wrong?”

I sniffled and shook my head.

“I’ve been watching you out here for ten minutes. You haven’t moved.”

“You stalking me now?” I tried for arrogance, but the appalling quaver in my voice gave me away.

“Novak,” he said in maybe the kindest voice he’d ever used when addressing me, “what’s wrong?”

I wiped under my nose. “I…uh…” I cleared my throat and blinked a few times. “Nothing.”

“I have never ever seen you cry.Ever. It’s freaking me out.”

I huffed in his direction, my breath forming a cloud in the cold and wet January night.

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