Page 150 of Hate to Love You

I fucked up.

Chapter Twenty-Two

ABBY

My blood boils as images from last night of Roman and Heather flash through my mind.

The way her eyes lit up, and the way she curled her body further into his. The way his tongue licked up her neck while his eyes burned into mine.

He wanted me to see. He needed me to see.

Twirling Roman’s beloved letter opener in my hands, that I swiped from his desk this morning, I glare at his office door. He’s had it closed since he walked in, with the privacy glass on. Indicating to me that he doesn’t want me to see what he’s doing in there.

Fuck him. I don’t care.

When I eventually turned my phone on this morning I had a dozen text messages, two voicemails, and an email from him, all begging for the opportunity to speak with me.

I ignored them all.

Sure, I’d briefly thought about quitting, or at least calling off today. But I know if I did either of those things, his pestering would only get worse, and he would only get more persistent. And what’s more, I would be giving him the confirmation he’s so desperately seeking.

Confirmation that I do care about him.

After all, that’s what last night was all about. Roman wanted a reaction from me.

A smirk fights its way across my face, knowing that while I gave in a little when he kissed me, he still ultimately failed.

It only served to further confirm my resolve.

So, today, I refuse to acknowledge what he did, even if I want to. He doesn’t get that from me. Roman and I are nothing. And we will remain nothing.

I’m his assistant, and only his assistant. And until I have ousted all of the monsters, I find at Nikotech, I’m going to continue with my work like nothing happened.

However, the moment I hear a particular familiar cackle sounding down the hall, getting louder as it approaches, my entire body tenses, the echo setting my teeth on edge.

Heather.

My jaw tenses, and I take several deep breaths, attempting to think happy thoughts, while also trying to control the raging urge to smash her stupid botoxed face into the nearest wall.

God, the mess it would make. Her blood everywhere.

I snort to myself, realizing how dark my thoughts have turned. It feels as if the more time I spend in this building, the more my demons riot, testing my restraint every day.

In an attempt to distract myself I look down at the letter opener in my palm. My little souvenir.

If he happens to wonder where it went, he’ll have to ask me.

The whalebone handle feels cool in my hands, so as Heather slithers her way over to my desk, I focus on all the tiny details, and how they feel under my fingers.

The light shines off her long hair cascading down her shoulders in smooth waves, as she stops in front of my desk.

“Roman needs these,” she snaps as she drops a stack of papers in my bin. “I’m sure he’ll want them all copied and then hand delivered to each department head. Which is something you can handle, right?”

I say nothing, simply staring at her.

“After all,” She continues, arrogantly folding her arms across her chest. “That’s your job,”

Don’t do it Abby. Don’t lose control.