Page 84 of Breaking Hollywood

“Now, be a good little employee, and get my guests some drinks.” He taps me on my nose with his fingertip and moves past me.

Um, what the fuck just happened?

I turn, my eyes following him. “What the hell was that?”

He stops and looks back to me. His eyes are almost black.

His friends have all scattered around the living room, some going out onto the terrace.

“I said, get my guests some drinks. You work here, right?”

“Last I knew, I was here to care for you, not be a waitress for your friends.”

His face darkens. “Fine. I’ll get their fucking drinks.” He hobbles away, in the direction of the kitchen.

I go to my room and put Gucci safely in there, and then I go into the kitchen to find him pouring drinks.

“Where have you been?” My tone is snippy.

“Out,” he answers without looking at me.

“I got that. But all day? I thought you just had a few meetings, and then you’d be home. I was worried. I texted you.”

His eyes lift to mine. “My phone died.”

I try to control my temper and soften my voice, but it doesn’t work. “And you couldn’t borrow a phone to let me know you were okay? You must’ve known I would worry.”

“No. I didn’t know. Because you’re not my fucking wife!” he roars.

The force of his anger takes me back a step.

Tears hit the backs of my eyes, but I refuse to cry. “I know I’m not.”

“So, stop fucking acting like you are!”

“I’m not!” I yell back, my hands curling into fists at my sides. “I’m just trying to be a good friend.”

His hard eyes burn into mine. “But that’s just it. We’re not friends, Ava. You work for me. End of story.”

Well, if that isn’t a slap in the face. My face stings with the pain from his words.

“Okay.” I wrap my arms around my chest. “I understand.”

“You understand what?”

“That you’re a heartless fucking bastard!” I spin on my heel and start to walk away.

He laughs harshly. “I never once claimed to have a heart. And do you talk to all your bosses that way, Speedy? Maybe that’s why you got fired from your last job.”

That has me stopping and turning back to him. Undiluted rage is burning in my veins. “My last boss would never have treated me the way you just did.”

Some unnamed emotion flickers across his face. “I don’t have to put up with this shit,” he bites.

I laugh. There’s no humor in it. “That makes two of us. And you don’t have to worry about putting up with me anymore. Because I quit.” I stare him hard in the eyes. “Clearly, you don’t need me to take care of you anymore. You look like you’re doing just fine. So, I’ll be out of your hair in the morning.” I don’t give him a chance to say anything in response. I storm out of the kitchen and to my room, and I slam the door shut. I fall back against it, breathing hard.

Fucking asshole!

Tears fill my eyes. But I won’t cry. I won’t fucking cry.