‘I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.’ His answer is low and urgent and there’s something unsettling in his tone, not that I have time to dwell as he hurries on. ‘Is this about me not coming to the party Mark threw? Jesus, Ols.’ He blows out a violent breath. ‘Do you think I want to celebrate you being with someone else? Someone other than me?’
‘That was never going to happen.’ Not seriously.
‘Well, you made that infinitely clear,’ he retorts, matching my anger now.
‘You don’t get to play the injured party.’ Incensed, I punctuate the words with my finger, violently poking the air between us. So much for Regency style social cuts. I’m sure the Duchess of Devonshire didn’t stand around arguing like a fishwife.
‘Really? Because from my viewpoint, things obviously look a little different. But at least I don’t have to watch the bastard swanning around the office like the cat that ate the fucking canary anymore.’
‘What are you talking about?’ Though no need to ask who the feathers belong to.
‘He got rid of me as part of the deal. Didn’t he tell you? Majority ownership of the company for him and a huge fuck off handshake for me. As of this week, I don’t have to look at him ever again. But you know what hurts the most? We’ve been friends for a long time, you and me, but you just dropped me. You didn’t lose any sleep before moving on to the next man who could dig you out of the shit.’
‘That’s not what happened.’ My cheeks sting as though he’s struck me.
‘Anna and I aren’t together—did you know that? We’re going to co-parent and I’ll support her and the baby, but you didn’t even give me a chance to get my head around things before you fucked off and married him.’
‘Because you left me no choice!’ I yell.
The whole bar falls quiet at my pronouncement.
I know I screwed it all up by the choices I made, but he left me high and dry and in no position to do anything but marry Beckett.
Beckett.
The man standing at the door behind him, his expression murderous.
Chapter 40
OLIVIA
‘I don’t know what he’s been filling your head with, but maybe you should pick up the phone next time I call.’ Luke’s voice is pitched softer, like he knows Beckett is behind him, or maybe like he knows I’m about to leave.
I find myself nodding jerkily, my shoulder brushes his arm as I pass. I don’t look back but sail through the door as Beckett steps aside to let me through.
‘What is he doing here?’
The air outside is crisp with the promise of frost, Beckett’s words just a little puff of white in the air. I wish I’d remember to bring a jacket as I rub my bare upper arms. It won’t be long before sidewalks will be covered in a carpet of leaves, crisp beneath our feet. And then what? We won’t be crunching along these streets together when the snow falls.Will we?I swallow thickly over the riot of thoughts as I notice the ever-present Mercedes parked on this side of the street, a couple of car lengths away. I glance at it distractedly and back at him.
‘It was a coincidence, I think.’ I’m surprised how even my voice sounds. Such a contrast to my noisy mind.He no longer works at JBW and that’s somehow Beckett’s doing. As for the rest...‘Did you say that Luke knew about his stepfather’s plan? My pitch and—’
‘Why are we talking about this now?’ He pivots on the leather soul of his shoe, turning to face me. I do likewise more slowly, my mind still trying to sort through the puzzle pieces.
‘Because we haven’t talked about it before, I guess.’
‘It didn’t matter to you. You weren’t interested in anything but revenge.’
‘No, revenge was your thing.Yourhard on.’
His firmhuhbecome visible in the air. ‘You have no idea what makes me hard.’ The hard edge to his words almost feel like a blow. Does he mean that I don’t— ‘Because you don’t understand. Youcan’tunderstand.’
‘I understand someone stole the toys from your crib.’ In a motion that’s more him than me, I turn swiftly and begin moving in the opposite direction to the car, away from his horrible words. Away from him.
‘Olivia,’ he growls, then repeats in a yell as my feet thunder against the pavement so hard, I’m surprised the heels don’t snap.
‘Stop.’ Feet scuffle against the sidewalk, his hand reaching out to grab my arm.
‘Get off me,’ I demand, pulling away. ‘I need time to think.’
