Chapter 32

Looking as I did in a bonnet cap, sneakers, and an overcoat which boasted faux fur, I was every bit the hot mess I appeared to be, and on the long walk to the diner I shut my thoughts out, determined to at least see this one assignment that I’d set for myself through.

Isla’s NDA had included a gag order clause, which expressly forbade me from mentioning anything about my time with Elijah at the risk of serious legal repercussions. But I was done with all of that bullshit.

The time had come to tell my story, consequences be damned; and by the time I finally rounded into a corner to find the nondescript diner, I knew a moment’s wave of apprehension even as a sigh of sweet relief escaped me at how accurately I’d remembered location of the place.

A black limo idled at a far corner, and I smiled viciously, taking a moment to still my hands which had started to shake, before continuing on.

I was fueled on only by the feeling of righteous rage that carried me up to the doors, where the lone figure of a man in a suit stood waiting idly by. As I approached he straightened, eyes which sat behind the concealing glare of shades probably assessing me, and I flashed a bright, unsure smile at him when he stepped in front of my when I got close enough.

“Excuse me miss,” he began in a tone that carried an edge. “What can I help you with?”

I glanced down at my phone screen and calculated that by now the get-together was well underway, and an urgent laugh escaped me as I tried to act as natural as could be managed.

“I—I work here,” I stammered, before clearing my throat and trying to assume a mien of absolute surety, but when the corners of his mouth curled down faintly in disbelief I straightened, dropping my smile.

“I work here,” I repeated, “and my sister’s inside right now—working alone. She’s great, but she’s human and I don’t think your fancy guests will be happy if the service gets sloppy and they have you to blame for it.”

Squaring my shoulders up at his as I folded my arms, I could see that my acting had left him, if not entirely convinced, then unsure, and using the momentum this brief respite offered, I shouldered past him and into the building, ignoring his faint call of protest as I burst in through the door, promptly interrupting the flow of conversation that’d been going on between the women who’d been sat in a circle.

Immediately, my eyes zeroed in on Isla’s head of white blonde hair, and as soon as she looked up her pretty nose crinkled delicately, like someone had come to drop a bag of trash right beside her and she couldn’t very well move away.

The silent rebuke hurt, but I soldiered on, remembering that I hadn’t come here looking for her acceptance. I’d slept with her fiancée, and even if they claimed to be open, but by some kind of fucked up logic only they understood, only I appeared to be suffering from it.

For a moment I stilled, gathering my nerves before letting out a hiss of air as my legs carried me to her, closing the distance between us in sharp, rapid strides.

Never one to be shown out, Isla got up gracefully from the chair she was sat on, every move measured so it appeared like she’d just risen out of a throne.

“Who let you in, and what’re you doing here?” she asked smoothly, and halted in my steps, caught off guard as I’d assumed that my sudden appearance would leave her disoriented for long enough that I would say what I had to say and be on my merry way before she even managed to squeeze in a single word.

“Why?” I asked finally, and at the artfully arched brow I received in reply, I pressed. “Why did you leak the video of Elijah and me—basically ruining my life, even after I did everything you asked me?”

A gasp escaped the small crowd of women around her, and Isla’s eyes widened in slight confusion though her expression for the large part remained unchanged.

“I honestly have no idea what it is you’re going on about,” she claimed, giving me a dismissive wave like she was done having the conversation. She was either an expert liar or genuinely telling the truth.

It scared me to imagine whom if not her was powerful enough to have access to the leak.

She continued, cutting me off mid-thought. “But I hope you didn’t come here expecting sympathy.”

I could feel a slight flush of humiliated embarrassment creep up past my neck and over my face at her words as her attention turned away from me to the ladies around her, who she apologized to. They were her fans, all chicly dressed in cute blazers and pencil skirts like they were not meeting at a diner.

I felt idiotic, more so than I had when I sat in my room, locked up and alone. The situation was fast slipping out of my control, and I’d made no plans for this, coming here solely on impulse.

“Now, as you can see, we have a conversation to get back to,” she enjoined smoothly as her eyes swiveled, coming to rest on me. “And,” Isla paused, brows furrowing slightly, “What’s your name again?”

She cocked her head to one side, before sighing in exasperation.

“It doesn’t matter. Show up like this again, unannounced—and I will be filing charges with the police. Now, please,” she smiled patronizingly at me. “Get out.”

I stood frozen in mute rage as I felt the eyes of the women assess me from my bonnet to my leggings and sneakers could feel it when they all came to the same conclusion that I was a joke. I had no witty rejoinder to throw back at her, nothing to say that wouldn’t make me look worse than I already did—and I imagined that by tomorrow snippets of this conversation would find their way back to the internet.

One of them even tittered, sending me an expression of pure scorn before summarily dismissing me, and my throat closed up as I realized that I’d lost, and my brain, which had been silent since my last big panic attack—the day that David arrived—turned in on itself with a vengeance to match the unusual complacence it’d been showing since.

Suddenly, I felt bone tired.

“You’re pathetic,” I began, shuffling from foot to foot, as I prodded, exploring a weakness that I’d noticed but never thought I would ever sink low enough to use. “Fighting this hard to keep a man who will never want you as much as you want him.”

It was a play on the same words that she’d used on me back in Paris, but Isla appeared to have completely forgotten the interaction as her gaze snapped up angrily, eyes flashing. Momentarily, her expression of utter calm slipped, revealing the rectus of hate that sat masked beneath.

“Excuse me, ladies,” she muttered, recovering her sense of self before calling out for the guy outside, Vanya, who I’d managed to con my way around barely five minutes ago. A few seconds passed, and then he showed up.

“Please, Vanya escort this... person out,” she sniffed, all sugary sweet even as she eyed me distastefully. “It looks like she’s lost.”

Vanya gave a slight incline of his head and moved closer to me.

“Please, miss, leave,” he said, and when I remained firmly rooted to the spot he reached forward to grab me roughly, and when I shifted out of his reach he stepped forward and grabbed me roughly by the arm.

I tried to struggle out of his grip, but it only tightened, and after a few seconds of this passed he began to move purposefully towards the door and I stumbled, barely managing to regain my footing.

Another in Isla’s posse laughed at my expense, and the sound of it, so grating but yet familiar, the sight of Isla once again with the familiar smile playing at the corners of her mouth, caused something in me to snap, and with a rough jerk I disengaged myself from Vanya’s iron hold and turned to face Isla.

I stabbed a finger in her direction. “Have him lay another finger on me like that again and I will sue the living daylights out of you.”

Isla scoffed, giving a slight shake of her head. “You’re trespassing. No judge will take you seriously.”

“Maybe,” I spat, driven on by more malice than I’d thought I harbored for this wispy thing that sat in front me. I fixed on a bitter smirk. “But I’m pregnant, so maybe a couple would.”

The room fell completely silent as the words I’d spoken took a moment to register, and I watched Isla try and fail to control the expression she sported as she glared at me suddenly pale, mouth opening and closing shut like a fish out of water.

For a second her eyes flickered to something behind me, and a moment later I felt his presence and turned to watch Elijah step into the room, wearing an expression of complete befuddlement, one I hadn’t seen him sport over the course of our quite short-lived acquaintanceship.

The sight of him barely a few feet away from me, so physical and solid, sent a jolt of electricity through me, and as his eyes searched mine with something that dangerously approached hurt, I schooled my features into what I hoped came close enough to an accurate approximation of blasé indifference, even though my eyes stung.

“Enjoy the rest of your meeting,” I said to Isla, dipping my torso slightly forward in a mock bow, before turning on my heels.

I kept my chin up when I walked past Elijah, who it seemed could suddenly not take his eyes off me. But this time I remained steadfast in my goal to not once meet his gaze.

And I succeeded.