And that was the problem.
Wyatt Hastings had been good once. Had believed in things with a ferocity that made you want to believe in them, too. He’d fought battles nobody had asked him to fight simply because it was the right thing to do. I’d invested seven years of my life in that version of the man.
But power had corrupted him, the way it did for so many, and he hadn’t been that person in a really long time.
He let out a short, humorless laugh and strode to the counter, grabbing his Scotch and yanking the cork out of the bottle with his teeth. He tilted his head back, the amber liquid disappearing down his throat in three long pulls. He winced as he swallowed, then dragged his hand across his wet mouth.
“I’ll concede that I let things get complicated—the constant campaigning, the pressure to do more, be more. You know better than anyone what that kind of scrutiny does to a person. I leaned on you because I trusted you. Because you were the only person Icouldlean on.”
“No. You leaned on me because I was convenient. Because I never pushed back.”
“Sebastian, please,” he pleaded, his voice softening. “I know things changed when Celine and I got together. But you have to understand?—”
I shook my head. “No, even before Celine was in the picture, we’d stopped being partners. For years, I was nothing more than?—”
I stopped. I didn’t know if I dared to say the word out loud. Because I was complicit in turning myself into that just as much as he was.
“Than what?” he pressed, his hushed tone matching my own.
“You know what.”
“Tell me.”
I blew out a breath and forced myself not to look away. “Your whore.”
I would have said the look that swept over his face just then was shame if I thought he was even capable of that emotion.
“I never meant for it to be like that.” His shoulders dropped.
“That almost makes it worse,” I said quietly.
Abruptly, Wyatt turned and set the bottle back on the counter, then straightened to his full height. “I’ll divorce Celine. If that’s what this is about, I’ll end it, and we can go back to how things were before.”
Six months ago, I might have taken him up on the offer, but now I knew my worth.
And I knew it without question because Taylor had shown me every day in a thousand different ways that I didn’t have to accept small scraps of affection. That I deserved to be loved wholly and unreservedly.
But knowing your worth didn’t suddenly turn you into someone else. Didn't make you want to be kind and forgiving when what you really wanted was ... not revenge exactly. More like comeuppance.
And now I was finally in a position to get it. To see what Senator Wyatt Hastings looked like when he was at the end of his rope. When he was desperate and grasping at straws.
So I did what any petty asshole with an axe to grind would do.
I relaxed my jaw, dropped my shoulders, and let my eyes go soft. Whatever Wyatt needed to see in order to think I believed his bullshit, I gave it to him.
“You’d actually leave her?” I asked, my voice filled with what I hoped sounded like longing. Like desperation.
“Yes, god. I want you back, Bas,” he breathed out, his eyes taking on the appearance of a man who was about to do something reckless. Something stupid. “I love you.”
The building’s heat clicked on, the vents exhaling a quiet rush of warm air into the silence. For years, I’d wanted thismoment. But now that it was here, I simply stood there, wondering why it didn’t make me feel something more than pity.
Well, pity wasn’t the only thing I felt—I also felt anger.
Anger because he was lying. Because he was using that thing I’d longed for to try and manipulate me. Because he thought he could.
“No, you don’t.”
“What?” he sputtered. “Of course I?—”
