Rage

Rage
Diane's POV

At th cafe.

I slammed the door of my room shut and rushed out with my bag in my hand. I didn’t even bother checking if my hair was rough or if my face looked tired. I just wanted to leave the mansion before I saw anyone. Especially Lance. And that woman.

My footsteps echoed in the quiet hallway. The place felt too silent, and too big… although not as big as the main house. I hated that I could still picture the argument from yesterday. His voice. Her voice. The way he defended me. The way she looked at me like I was the other woman. Like I was the problem.

I hissed and pushed the thought away.

I got into the car quickly, started it, and drove out of the compound faster than I planned. The gate rolled open and I didn’t even wait for it to finish moving before pushing the car forward.

Good. They were already gone to work. I made sure of that. I checked the time before leaving my room, and I waited until I heard two cars drive out. I didn’t want to see either of them.

If this was any normal company, I would have called in and said, “Hi, I don’t feel okay today. I am off. I need rest.”

Simple. Normal.

But I couldn’t say that because Lance would be the first person whose phone would ring. He would ask why. He would ask if I was sick. He would ask if I slept well. He would ask if I needed anything. I just knew he would.

And I didn’t want to hear his voice today.

I didn’t want to answer questions.

I didn’t want to pretend that everything inside me wasn’t a mess.

The road stretched out in front of me and I gripped the steering wheel tighter. My mind drifted back to Victoria again. That image of her yelling at me, acting like she owned the world. I hissed again.

“Go to hell, Victoria!” I said out loud.

I muttered. “She can keep Lance for all I care.”

I pressed my foot harder on the accelerator, my heart beating fast like I was running away from something. Or someone. Maybe myself.

My phone rang.

I frowned, snatched it from the seat, and put it on speaker without taking my eyes off the road.

“Where the hell are you rushing to?” Clara’s voice yelled so loud that it filled the entire car.

I blinked. “What?”

“You just flew past the café. I saw your car. Diane, are you okay? Why are you driving like someone is chasing you?”

My mouth dropped open. “Shit!”

I matched the brakes so hard that the car jerked forward. My seat belt locked across my chest.

“Diane!” Clara shouted. “Are you mad? Calm down!”

“I…I forgot,” I said, reversing immediately. “I wasn’t thinking.”

“That’s obvious,” she said. “Just turn around and come back.”

I did a quick turn and headed back, my stomach still tight from everything in my head.

When I parked in front of the café, I let out a long breath. I looked at myself through the mirror. My eyes were tired. My hair was a little messy. My lips were pressed into a straight line.

I slapped my cheeks softly and forced a small smile.

Clara was sharp. Too sharp. If she sensed something was wrong, she would drag it out of me.

I got down and tried to straighten my top. I even fixed my hair with my hand. I walked toward the café door, pushing it open slowly.

Clara was sitting at a corner table, arms folded, watching me with raised brows.

“I’m here,” I said with a small smile.

She didn’t smile back. “Sit.”

I sat.

She stared at me. Still no smile. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” I said quickly. “I’m fine.”

“Diane,” she said, leaning forward, “that is the same thing you say when you’re not fine.”

“I’m okay.”

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not.”

Clara sighed like she was tired of my nonsense. “So explain why you almost ran over two people on your way here.”

“I didn’t run over anyone,” I argued.

“You would have if I didn’t call.”

I looked away.

She gave me a long stare, the type that always made my shoulders drop. “Tell me,” she said softly.

I pressed my lips together. “It’s nothing serious.”

“Diane.”

The way she said my name made something inside me give up.

I dropped my head and breathed out slowly. “It’s Lance.”

Clara slapped the table. “I knew it.”

“It’s not… listen. It’s not what you think.”

“Start talking,” she said.

I rubbed my forehead. “His fiancée is in town.”

Clara’s eyes widened. “What? Fiancée? He’s engaged? How?”

“I was shocked too.” I said

“Are you okay?”

I laughed dryly. “Of course, I am. This isn’t even why I brought Victoria up.”

She mouthed. “Oh.”

I nodded. “She got angry that we were working together. And I think she threw things at some point.”

“What?” She repeated louder. “You think she threw things?”

I nodded.

“Are you joking?”

“I wish.”

“And she shouted at you?”

I looked away. “Yes.”

“Oh hell no,” she said, hitting the table. “Who does she think she is?”

“She’s his fiancée,” I muttered.

“Okay and so what?” She fired back. “Did you sleep with him?”

“No!”

“Did you kiss him?”

“No!”

“Did you touch him?”

I paused.

Her eyes widened. “Oh my God, Diane!”

“It was not that kind of touch, Clara,” I said fast. 

Clara leaned back and folded her arms. “So why is that woman shouting at you? You’re not doing anything wrong.”

I looked down at my fingers. “It was just… tense.”

“Tense how?”

I didn’t want to answer.

She leaned forward, her eyes narrowing. “Diane. Are you in love with Lance?”

My head snapped up. “What? No!”

“You’re lying.”

“I am not in love with him,” I said louder.

She raised a brow. “So why are you acting like this?”

“I’m acting like this because everything is confusing!” I said. “And stressful. And I don’t want drama. I don’t want his fiancée in my face. I don’t want him defending me. I don’t want… I don’t want all of this.”

“So you like him,” Clara said simply.

“No,” I said quickly. “No, I don’t.”

“You don’t?”

“No!”

Clara shook her head. “Diane, you need to put that Victoria woman in her place. Don’t let her talk to you anyhow. If Lance starts acting funny, tell him straight. Clear him. Since you ‘don’t like him’.”

I frowned at how she used air quotes even though she didn’t raise her hands. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

“Fine,” She said. “Change the topic then.”

There was silence.

I lifted my cup of cold coffee and dropped it back. “Mike called me.”

Her eyes almost popped out. “Mike? Your Ex-husband?”

I didn’t answer. 

She leaned closer. “What did he want?”

“He asked that we meet up,” I said, staring at the table.

“He what?” Clara gasped. “Why?”

“He said…” I shrugged. “He begged. Like desperately begging.”

Clara burst into laughter as she grabbed my hand. “What did you tell him?”

I looked up slowly, my eyes meeting hers.

“What do you think?” I said.