Page 107 of Working for the Mob

“We need to stop seeing each other!” I blurted out, and her confused look came back.

She fixed me with a dumbfounded stare, her mouth ajar.

My stomach dropped somewhere between my knees. What did I just do?

“What?” she demanded.

“We need to stop seeing each other,” I repeated. “The sooner the better, so I don’t think I should go to the café with you.”

“I don’t think I’d want you to go either,” she said, an accusation creeping into her voice. I knew I deserved it. “I thought … after last night I thought we were on the same page. Hell, Art, I thought youlovedme.”

“I never said that,” I spat. I made sure to never utter the word. I knew saying it aloud would confirm the truth and make this even harder. But I wasn’t doing a good enough job convincing her. I needed to make her believe it.

“You were nothing to me. I’m sorry if you read into this anymore. But you were just there, okay? I had to get you out of my system.”

Her eyes dropped in the corners, where tears welled.

“So, what? I was just some … some fling to you?” Despite the tears, her voice remained steady.

“No,” I said, automatically. But I instantly knew that was a mistake. I had to make her believe it. “I mean, yes. You should never have read into anything.”

A fire erupted behind her eyes and I took a step back.

“You mean the dresses? The constant excuses to come see me? The promotion to manager? And what about last night, when you practically begged me to stay in Lannington?”

My stomach seized at my hypocrisy. “I should never have taken you to the city,” I growled.I needed her to believe it. “Or promoted you.”

Pain splashed across her features. I could take her anger and vitriol pointed at me, but my heart mirrored the pain on her face. I never hated myself more than at that moment.

“What happened?”

“Things change,” I said.

“In twelve hours? In twelve hours you go from Mr. Darcy to Mr. Wickham?”

“Who?”

“You did this. You set me up. You made me think you believed in me, and even worse, you made me believe in myself. And now you’ve pulled the rug out from under me.”

“That’s not what happened,” I snarled.

“Goodbye, Art,” she said.

I put my foot in front of the door before she tried to slam it in my face.

“Don’t act like that,” I said.

“You can’t order me around like that anymore, Art. You’re not my boyfriend and you’re definitely not my boss,” she said.

“You’re quitting?” Her words drove knives through my gut while the door bounced off my foot.

“I’m sure you can find someone else to replace Jamie. Someone that’s not a self-righteous dolt,” she said.

“That’s not fair.”

Her eyes stared at my shoe. “Get your foot out of the way.”

“Genny, it doesn’t have to be like this,” I said.

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