“Great.” She smiles, revealing twin dimples on both sides of her cheeks. “Also, I still haven’t been able to get ahold of Mr. Hawthorne.”
My back teeth grind together at the reality of that statement. No one has heard from him since the news started printing the stories. Seems Vincent isn’t the only one who’s gone into hiding. “That’ll be all for now. Thank you, Mia.”
“Of course. Call me if you need me.” She turns toward the door and pauses over the threshold to glance back at Mackenzie. “Have a great day, miss. I love your hair, by the way.”
Mackenzie’s scowl deepens. “Goodbye, Mia,” she clips out.
I have to hold back the urge to laugh at just how angry she is. Maybe what she said earlier wasn’t the whole truth. She obviously still feels something. It wasn’t all fake.
“Where were we?”
“New assistant?” she asks, an edge to her tone. I hold back my grin.
“Very thorough. Best employee I’ve ever had.”
She bristles in her seat, glaring daggers at me.
“You’re disgusting. How very professional.” Sarcasm drips from her tone.
“What’s disgusting about a sweet employee who’s good at her job?”
She rolls her eyes and replies in a dry tone. “Is that what we’re calling it now?”
“If you have something to ask, spit it out.”
Mackenzie glares at me. She looks downright murderous. “I have nothing I want to ask you.”
“What’s suddenly got you so angry, Mackenzie? Jealous?”
Her hands ball into fists in her lap, her eyes spewing venom at me. “I couldn’t care less. Fuck whoever you want. You mean nothing to me. You were a means to an end. I got what I needed. We’re done.”
My grip tightens around the pen in my hand, and if I squeeze any harder, it’ll snap at the force. I have to coach myself to keep it cool and remain calm. She said it. Everything I already knew. And fuck it all to hell. Even though I don’t want to, I feel the effects of her words unfurl in my chest.
“We’ll never be done, Dirty Girl.”
She flinches at the nickname, obviously not ready for the memories that flood her mind all at once. She pushes away from my desk and strides toward the door. I spot the slight limp she has, and I hate it.
“Where are you going?” I call after her.
She pauses, her grip tightening on the doorknob. “Back to my life in New York.”
“We’re not done here, Mackenzie.”
“We never even got started, Sebastian. Goodbye.”
Shooting up from the chair, I chase after her. Just as she reaches for the door, I catch her by the wrist and whirl her toward me. She fights my hold at first, trying to get away from me. I back her into the wall of my office, right next to the door. Her eyes are wide, her chest heaving, her tits grazing against me at our proximity. Resting my hands above her head, I lean into her, caging her in.
“I need to leave,” she breathes out, her eyes lighting with heat. Craning my neck down, I get close enough that I’m able to smell her, her signature sweet and floral scent that still drives me crazy. Her breaths ghost across my face, and when I lean in, I hear her sharp gasp.
“Stay,” I whisper against her cheek, my lips grazing the soft skin there.
My office doors suddenly burst open, and Mia strides in with a stack of papers in her arms. “Mr. Kingston, I have the—” She freezes when she sees us. Her eyes are wide, her gaze darting back and forth between us. “I’m so sorry. Am I interrupting something?”
The moment I just had with Mackenzie dissipates. She shoves me away from her, righting herself.
“No. You’re not.” She brushes past me and leaves my office without so much as a look back. I grit my back teeth together, shooting Mia a glare.
“Next time you walk into my office without knocking, you’re fired.”
The color drains from her face. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”
I fall back into the chair at the same time the door shuts behind Mia. I inhale a deep breath and rake a frustrated hand through my hair when I get a whiff of Mackenzie. She’s gone, but her scent is still here, lingering.
She thinks she can run away so easily. She’s mistaken.
My heart tightens painfully with each step I take away from him. I got what I came here for. A semblance of the truth. He didn’t do it. That’s all I needed to know. I can go back to New York, wait for the shit to hit the fan, and hope the rest of the guys will be convicted of something. And Baz…well, he can burn in hell for all I care.
I lied in there. Through my teeth.
Seeing Mia step into his office, with her model-like body, creamy skin, luxurious hair, and that sweet little smile that I wanted to wipe off her face was a blow to the chest. I wanted to show her how ugly the world could be.
I was jealous. Plain and simple. I couldn’t see someone as beautiful as her working for Baz, without getting perks on the side. She is too beautiful of a woman, and Baz is too handsome of a man for their relationship to ever remain strictly professional.
Is he fucking her?
Does he call her Dirty Girl, too?
God. I hate that I even care. If that is who he is, I shouldn’t care. I shouldn’t even waste my breath on him. But no matter how hard I try to forget him and erase him from my mind, I can’t wipe him from me. He is in my blood, every part of him coursing through my veins.
Obviously, the idea of him going to a gala while pretending nothing is wrong in his life is what bothers me. Does he miss me at all, or think about me half as much as I think about him? What I am most worried about is that when he is going to be out with her, if he’ll think of me at all, or have I fallen so far, I’m not even a passing thought in his mind?
I want him to think about me. I want him to go crazy with his thoughts. Feel the same way I do.
I’m selfish and crazy for feeling this way, for wanting him to hurt. I want him to miss me so much it’s hard for him to breathe, just as it is for me.
I want him to feel his heart shatter into a million irreparable pieces because I’m out of his life. Because that’s what happened to me. I thought I could handle seeing him again, but I was wrong. I’m barely functioning at this point. My only hope, the only thing I have to look forward to, is justice. But I worry after hearing that he can’t get ahold of Vincent that they’ve run.
I’ve come too far to let that happen, and even though I said I was going back home to move on and absolve Baz of the past, I can’t do that until they’re dead.
I do something I haven’t done in months. Something that brings me great shame, but I still find myself hiding out in my room, lights blacked out, laptop open, as I scroll through the Google alerts I have for Baz’s name.
It’s the night of the gala, and though I’ve held myself off and tried to keep busy, here I am anyway, stalking him and his date—or his assistant, whatever the hell she is to him. I hate how good he looks in another tux. With his hair slicked back, a rogue long strand hanging in front of his face, like that of a rugged movie star. He looks perfect. And I hate how my heart starts beating faster and harder the longer I stare at him.
His date, Mia, as much as I want to say she looks like a troll, she doesn’t. In fact, she looks flawless, dressed in a fitted white gown that makes her chocolate hair stand out against her pale skin. There’s one picture that was snapped in particular that has my stomach souring. It’s Baz standing for a photo on the red carpet, that bored, aloof look on his face, and Mia staring up at him with awe written all over her face.