“And I was surprised. You didn’t exactly leave the last phase of your life looking stable.” He’s always had a special way of insulting me while expressing fake concern.
“I’m doing fine, actually. And yeah, you’re right to call our time together a phase. A phase I’m glad is over.”
“Oh, you’re not spiraling?”
“I told you, I’m doing fine.”
“You always say that right before things blow up. What is it this time, another temp job?”
“Yes.”
After a pause, he says, “You’ve got to move past this stuff. You’re not going to get anywhere with temp jobs.”
I grit my teeth. “Is that why you’re calling? To get some fresh insults in?”
“They aren’t insults. God, you’re so sensitive. I tell you I want to see you get healthier, and you take it personally. Then I tell you that you need to start thinking about your future and not just hop from temp job to temp job, and you get defensive. It’s like you think you can do whatever you want and no one’s allowed to say anything about it.”
“More like I don’t give a shit about your opinion, Max. And you don’t get to pretend you’re concerned. Call it what it is—control. And you lost the right to say anything about my life when you insulted my body.”
“I was just being honest.”
“You were being cruel. There’s a difference.”
A long silence follows. “I was trying to look out for you.”
“I’ve been looking out for myself just fine. Now, screw off.”
I hang up before he can reply, letting out a loud, angered groan. My hands are shaking. I need some air.
I hop out of bed, pull on a sweater, and slip out into the hallway barefoot. I hurry to the nearest terrace doors and pull them open, stepping out and expecting a rush of cold air. Then I remember that like nearly every other usable part of this estate, the terraces are heated. Warm air envelops me, the heat a total contrast to the serene snowy night outside. The sky is clear, the stars bright and twinkling above. I grip the railing, breathing deeply until the tightness in my chest eases.
Max. That fucking prick. Calling me in the middle of the night to what? Push the knife in another half inch? Then it hits me—he was probably drunk. Another one of his charming qualities. He probably wanted to test the waters, see if I was down for some sex-with-an-ex. Not a chance. As soon as he realized by my tone that I wanted nothing to do with him, he shifted gears and went prick mode.
I nearly jump when I hear Roman’s voice.
“Running again?”
CHAPTER 10
AMALIE
“Iguess it’s my coping mechanism.”
He steps close enough that I can feel the heat of him at my back. He doesn’t touch me. Not yet.
“What happened?” He steps to my side, glancing in my direction before turning his attention to the trees.
I don’t know how much I want to tell him, so I go with the bare minimum. “Just an irritating phone call from someone I didn’t want to hear from.”
“Who?”
“Someone from my past.” I can sense by the way his jaw works that he’s debating whether or not to press or let it go.
“Did whoever it was threaten you?”
“No.” The word shoots out of my mouth as if I don’t want to give myself the chance to lie and get him to send his goons after Max. Never in a million years would I do that, but it’s a nice thought.
“It was my ex,” I blurt out.
