Page 29 of The Billionaire's Most Unexpected Triplets

“You can say it. You won’t hurt my feelings.” I fish my cherry out of my drink.

“Run-down.”

I sigh. “I am. GourmetGlobal has been the biggest dream of my life… and now it feels like I’m losing it.”

“Maybe you’ve done the best you can, and there’s another dream waiting for you out there. Another goal to achieve.”

I sit on that. As much as it hurts, being free of this whole mess would be freeing. Sad, but freeing.

The bar’s front door opens, and a familiar face walks in. I sit up straight, watching as Jack walks to the bar, followed by two other men in suits.

They take seats at the bar, launching into a conversation. Though I can’t hear what they’re saying, it looks like they’re having a business meeting.

Of course they are. This bar is in the middle of downtown. If I didn’t want to run into Jack, I really should have gone somewhere else.

Leah follows my gaze until she’s turned around in her seat. “Oh. Speak of the devil.”

I snort. “The literal devil.”

As if he feels us looking at him, Jack’s eyes snap to us. It’s right then that the entire contents of my stomach come bubbling up my chest. Bolting out of my chair, I rush to the back of the bar.

The bathroom. Where is the bathroom?

Oh, God. If I vomit right here in front of Jack, that’s it. I’ll be ready to crawl into a hole and die.

Finally, I find the bathroom and burst into it. I barely make it to the toilet, where I promptly throw up.

Straightening up, I wash my face and hands and stare into the mirror. Okay. No more drinking for me.

It’s been a while since I had liquor, and apparently I just can’t handle it.

Composing myself, I head back into the bar. Jack is in the middle of a conversation, but I catch him glance my way.

“Are you okay?” Taylor asks.

“I think I should head home.”

“Okay. I already paid.” She stands. “Did you park in the garage? That’s where I am.”

We head for the door, and on the way past the bar, Jack smirks. “You okay there, Woodland?”

Woodland.

His choice to call me by my last name feels so absurd and patronizing. I want to punch him in the face.

Instead, I plaster on a huge smile. “Peachy.”

“Don’t hit the bottle too hard.” His eyes dance. “We could replace you at work, but it would be a pain in the ass.”

It feels like I’ve touched a live wire. I actually stop in my tracks, my hands clenching into fists.

Screw selling my shares. Screw retiring to a happy little farm in the mountains.

This man took the most important thing in the world to me. And he doesn’t care one bit. In fact, it seems he actually derives pleasure from making me unhappy.

Fuck it. I’m not giving up. This is all-out war.

“I’d hate to have anything to do with your ass,” I say sweetly. “So I’ll keep that in mind.”

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