Panic claws up my chest.
“Millie! Open the door!”
I pound my fists against it, but there’s no answer. No footsteps. Nothing.
I turn slowly. Elliot is still sitting there, elbows resting on his knees, smiling like we’re old friends catching up.
My skin crawls.
“Don’t make a fuss, Violet,” he says softly.
“Come sit with me. We have a lot to talk about.”
“I’m not staying,” I stammer, backing toward the door.
“I’m leaving.”
He tilts his head like I’m a misbehaving child.
“You’ll stay,” he says, his voice syrupy but splintered underneath.
“You owe me that much.”
“I don’t owe you anything,” I say through gritted teeth.
The smile slips.
“I’m losing everything because of you and Chase,” he says, voice tightening. “Not just the company—you. Us. Everything we could’ve had.”
“You did that to yourself,” I say before I can stop myself. “You lied, and you stole. That’s on you.”
His jaw ticks. He stands slowly and starts toward me. I press myself against the door, but there’s nowhere left to run.
“You're wrong, Violet,” he murmurs. “We had something special...you just... forgot.”
He moves closer, too close, and trails his fingertip down the side of my face.
I jerk away, stomach heaving, the stench of alcohol heavy on his breath.
“You used to look at me like yousawme,” he gushes, stars in his eyes.
“At Velvet Lounge. You chose me to talk to. You smiled. You laughed.”
“Iworkedthere; that was my job. You’re delusional if you think I felt anything.”
His mouth twists in an ugly sneer.
“And New Paltz?” he demands, his fingers snaking around my jaw.
“You flirting with me at the retreat? Huh? Was that part of your job description, too?”
“I didn’t flirt with you,” I say, voice shaking. “I was just being friendly. You imagined all of it.”
Something dark and dangerous flashes in his eyes.
“Enough talking,” he snaps.
“Let’s have a little fun, like old times.”
