I grabbed both books and signed them with a flourish, making sure my signature was extra nice on each one.
“It’s fine,” I said, loud enough for everyone nearby to hear. I slid both books across the table toward Emma. “Take them. Both of them. It’s a gift.”
Damien’s grip tightened until I felt the bruise forming. “Riley...”
“It’sfine.” I repeated, not looking at him. Just smiled at the girl and pushed the books toward her. “Keep your money. Buy ice cream.”
“But I can’t just...” Emma’s eyes were huge, darting between me and the books.
“Take them.” I kept my voice warm. “Thank you for reading me. That’s payment enough.”
Her face transformed. Her entire being lit up, joy radiating from her features. She thanked me approximately a thousand times, clutching the books against her chest, and practically floated away from the table.
I felt good. I felt like I did a thing that mattered.
“Can we take a break?” Damien asked the nearest employee, all charm.
“What?” I asked, “No, I’m not...”
But Damien was already pulling me up from the chair, guiding me toward the back of the store with a grip that would definitely leave marks. My skin screamed under his fingers, my heart started pounding.
The warm feeling from helping Emma curdled into dread.
I knew what was coming. I always knew.
The storage room was cold and quiet, surrounded by boxes of unsold books and promotional materials. The door clicked shut behind us and Damien’s charming mask dropped.
“What the fuck was that?”
I wrenched my arm free from his grip. The skin underneath already ached. “That was basic human decency. You should try it sometime.”
He stepped closer. I stepped back. Damien wasn’t tall. Average height, average build. But he knew how to use space, how to make himself feel bigger, how to make me feel small. I’d spent two years of my life shrinking for this man.
My shoulder blades hit a shelf of unsold books.
“You gave away my money.”
“Your money?” I laughed, but it came out bitter. “I wrote that book, Damien. Eight months of my life went into it. You just cash checks and complain.”
“Without me, you’d be nothing.” He was in my space now, close enough that I could smell his cologne, the same cologne he wore when he made me believe I was special. “I made you, Riley. Everything you have exists because I let it exist. I got you that first publishing deal. I built your career from scratch.”
God, I was tired. So tired of this speech, this manipulation, this constant reminder that I owed him everything. The worst part? Part of me still believed it. Part of me was still that twenty-four-year-old girl who thought he hung the moon.
But another part of me, a newer part that had been growing through concrete, was done.
“You got me to sign a contract I didn’t understand when I was twenty-four and desperate.” I shoved off the shelf, refusing to let him corner me. “Forty percent, Damien. You take double the industry rate. You show up at my events to steal moneyIearn.”
“Steal?” His jaw tightened. “You signed it willingly.”
“I signed it because you were my boyfriend and I trusted you.”
“And whose fault is that?”
Touché. Silly me. Trusting my boyfriend not to screw me over. How naive.
“You have no right...” I started, but he interrupted.
“I have every right.” His voice dropped. “Read your contract. Iownyou, and I will make you regret this.”
