I sit.
She unpacks containers onto my tiny coffee table. Pad thai, spring rolls, some kind of curry that makes my stomach growl despite the fact I’ve been shoveling ice cream into my mouth all day.
“So.” Sora pours wine into two mismatched glasses. One says WORLD’S OKAYEST EMPLOYEE. The other has a faded picture of a cat wearing sunglasses. “The billionaire.”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I reply.
“Too bad.” She hands me the cat glass. “You’re going to.”
I take a long drink. The wine is really good.
Figures.
“He tried to blackmail his brother,” I begin. “Years ago. To control who his brother loved. He wanted his brother’s wife for himself, well she wasn’t his wife at the time, but he tried to pressure his brother into giving her up. Like, what kind of twisted sicko does that totheir own brother?”
“I read the article,” Sora states, unimpressed.
“Then you know.” My voice cracks and I hate it. “He never told me. He let me fall for him while hiding the worst thing he’s ever done. He let me trust him. A man like that, who could do something so cruel to his own brother... how do I know he wasn’t manipulatingmethe whole time?”
Sora chews a spring roll thoughtfully. “Did he blackmail you?”
I press my lips together, confused. “What? No.”
“Did he manipulate you into sleeping with him?” she presses.
“No, but that’s not the point.”
“It kind ofisthe point, though.” She sets down her chopsticks. “Look, I’m not saying what he did wasn’t shitty. It was. Epically shitty. But that was a decade ago. He reconciled with his brother. According to the article, Dom forgave him. Even funded his company.”
“He stalked me on a date,” I point out.
“Also shitty,” she agrees. “Weirdly hot, but shitty.”
“Sora...”
“I’m just saying.” She shrugs. “The man is clearly unhinged about you. That’s not nothing.”
I stare into my wine glass like it might have answers.
It just has wine.
“What’s to stop him from emotionallyblackmailing me someday?” I press. “The pattern is there. You’re the one who always says people don’t change.”
“I say that about men who forget to text back. Not men who spent ten years in therapy and built an entire company around helping people.” She reaches over and squeezes my knee. “He fucked up. Badly. But did he fuck up with you? Has he manipulated you? Threatened you? Used his power over you in any way you didn’t enthusiastically consent to?”
The silence stretches.
Has he?
He’s been an asshole. Cold. Dismissive. But manipulative? Coercive?
No.
If anything, I’ve been the one with power in our private moments. He looks at me like I could destroy him with a word. Like I’m the one holding all the cards, even when I feel like I’m barely keeping my head above water.
“Plus he’s filthy rich,” Sora adds cheerfully. “Worst case scenario, he screws up, you sue, buy an island. Live your best life.”
“I’m not interested in suing or settlements.”
