Bossy(45)

“Don’t do this. You can’t make us work this way.”

“Just give me a chance. That’s all I’m asking. We’ll start off easy. Simple date, no big expectations. Try to rekindle what we had.”

The idea of spending a whole evening with him makes my skin crawl. It was bad enough before when I was just mad, but now he’s taken an all-out turn for the creepy. What do I do? It’s easy to threaten to call the cops, but I have no experience that covers this sort of thing, and I let him take the video.

The only thing I can think to do is appeal to his own self-preservation. “You’re all over that movie too. I’m sure you’d get tons of dude points for starring in homemade porn, but have you thought about your own career? If you spread it, I’ll make sure your name is right there with mine.”

“Please, you don’t think I’ve edited the clip? You can’t tell I’m in it and nobody cares about some random dick. It’s you they’ll be watching. I’ve even slapped on some titles and credits so it looks like you did it for an amateur site. You’ll look like a wannabe porn star.” He laughs softly. “I’ve thought of everything. Don’t make me use this. I really don’t want to. Seriously.”

I take a moment to come to terms with dying my hair, changing my name and living in a shed, because seriously. Fuck him.

He must take my pause for indecision. “Come on, Claire. My parents would love it if we got back together. They don’t blame you for that scene at the party. Not you, the daughter they never had. Imagine how happy they’ll be.”

“No.”

“What?”

“I said no. Do it. Ruin my life. I’m not the one who messed us up, and I know you don’t know this, but I’ve had a really bad fucking day. So do whatever you think you have to, because whatever it is would still be better than getting back together with you.” I close my eyes, pushing down the tightness in my chest and taking a deep breath.

My life is over, but suddenly Declan doesn’t seem like such a bad guy. Relatively speaking. I laugh, because it’s that or cry, and I’ve already done that once today.

The line falls silent. I feel a little sorry for him. Michael’s screwed up in a way that ruined whatever he thought he wanted, and it’s obviously driving him nuts. Even if he could be underhanded and manipulative when we were together, he never went all out crazy like this. He should be getting help somewhere. Like professional help.

“You know what. You’re upset. I’m sure this is a lot to take in for you.” He clears his throat. “Take a couple of days to think about it. I’ll call back on Friday.”

“My answer’s not going to change.” Not now, not ever.

“Just think about it. I’ll talk to you on Friday. I love you, baby.”

I try not to scream into the phone.

“Michael—” The phone goes dead. He’s gone.

Now what? I drop my head into my hands, defeated. I said I wouldn’t cry, but it’s making its way up anyway. Swallowing hard, I force it back down, quickly wiping a tear that escaped. How can he do this to me? He’s going to destroy me. And what can I do about it?

The only answer I can think of fills me with despair.

Nothing.

Rule number four: Never, ever assume the day can’t get worse.





Declan


Ding.

Fucking emails.

I slap shut my laptop and lean back to look at the chaos on my desk. Papers are everywhere, and I can still tell where Claire was stretched out across the top. But now I’m back to being just a cog in the damn machine.

Checking my email, making calls and drafting legal documents about shit nobody cares about but other lawyers. Was I ever like her? Dreaming of making a difference?

No, because this job was always just something I expected myself to do. I enjoy it most of the time, but the only difference I was thinking about making was in my bank account. I appreciate having a case that feels worthwhile, but not enough to go looking for them.

I choke down the last of the cold sludge in the bottom of my coffee cup. How fucking low have I sunk that I want a new cup of coffee, but I’m hiding in my office so I don’t have to look my assistant in the eye?

Instead I fire my machine back up to deal with the rest of my email. Walking on the wild side.

My phone rings, and I’m glad for the distraction. “Talk to me.”

“Hey, fucknut.”

I wish I didn’t recognize that voice. “You have exactly five seconds to tell me what you want before I hang up.” Why is Claire’s dipshit ex calling me? And why am I even still on the line? “Four.”

“It’s in your best interest to talk to me, fucknut. Life is about to get really unpleasant for our mutual friend, but there’s something you can do about that. I don’t know why she’s bothering with you, but I have a feeling you’d do quite a bit to avoid what I have planned.”