"What do you want?"
Now that I'm here, I don't even know where to start. How do you tell a truth that's eaten away at your soul for years? How do you undo all the damage you've selfishly done and fix everything you've broken? I don't know. I've never tried.
"I want you to come back to work," I rasp, not sure where else to start. "Fuck the agreement. Fuck the rules."
She laughs, but it's not a nice sound. "You want me to work for you?"
I nod.
"That will never happen. I know what you are now, Asher," she says.
"What's that, princess?" I ask, terrified to know what she sees when she looks at me now, of what she thinks when I haunt her mind.
She looks me up and down, slow and deliberate, cold. "You're just another rich asshole who likes to break people just because he can."
The words hit harder than any punch Liam threw last night.
"That's not true," I protest. "I didn't want to break you. I just…Christ, princess, I just wanted to be with you the only way I thought I deserved."
She leans against the doorframe, looking through me again. "Don't lie to me. You don't get to do that anymore."
I want to say I'm sorry. I want to say I only ever wanted her, that every fucked-up thing I did was just my way of being close to her, even if it meant destroying everything in the process. I want to tell her that I fucking hate myself and desperately needed her to hate me, too, even when I tried to keep her close. I want to tell her that I'm in hell without her.
She doesn't give me a chance to say any of it.
"You know, I actually thought you were the only person who really saw me," she says. "What a joke, right? Turns out, the only thing you ever saw was a toy to fuck and break."
"That's not—" I start, but she cuts me off.
"Any other day, I might have loved getting on my hands and knees for you. Any other day, I might have crawled and fucking loved it. But you knew exactly what you were doing by demanding I crawl after I told you how I felt about you," she says, her voice breaking. "You knew telling me that I was just a fucking distraction you wanted to own and demanding I earn my money would destroy me. It's what you wanted to do."
"Brielle, I—"
"Go fuck yourself, Asher." She steps back, trying to close the door in my face, but I put my hand out, blocking her.
"Please," I say. "Just tell me how to fix it."
She looks at me, her green eyes blazing. "You can't," she says. "You don't get to break things and put them back together on a whim."
"I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry. Tell me how to fix it," I plead, my voice cracking. "Please. Just… tell me what to do."
She looks at me, and for a second, I see the old Brielle—the girl who used to dare me to find out how far she'd go if I just let her. I see the woman who felt more alive with my hands on her body than she ever did before. She blinks that version of herself away, wearing her hatred like steel.
"Crawl," she says.
"What?"
"If you're so sorry, get on your knees and crawl."
I drop to my knees without hesitation, the wounds from last night screaming every time I move. I crawl toward her, one hand after another, my eyes never leaving hers.
I hear a door open down the hall, someone's head poking out to watch. I don't care. I'd crawl in front of the fucking world for her if it's what she asked of me.
When I reach her feet, I stop, looking up at her.
She stares at me like she's seeing me for the first time. Not the boss who infuriated her, not the billionaire who trapped her, not the monster who ruined her life. Just me, the man who has always been hers to command, the one who would defy gravity and destroy kingdoms just to worship at her feet.
"Good," she says, her voice shaking. "Now get the fuck out of my apartment and out of my life."
