Page 93 of Devoured By You

It didn’t matter to me that only those in the know, such as my family, and Carly, my assistant, would connect the dots, putting two and two together and making four. What mattered was that Jill had shown her true colors with every word she’d bled onto the page.

And she thought I’d be flattered?

My gaze drifted to the dedication once more, my hands gripping the book until my knuckles turned white.

To B. The man who made me believe in myself. Thank you.

I’d made her believe in herself so much that she’d turned Judas.

Well, fuck her.

All the pain, the sweat and blood and tears of these last couple of months were worthless to me now.

If my house had a real fire, I’d toss the damn book into the flames and watch it burn. But this was Miami.

Barbecue it was, then.

But first…

I rose to my feet and walked to my study on the one stick I still relied on for balance. I’d worked my nuts off to get back on my feet, and for what? So I could stand tall when Jill nailed me in the balls?

Propping the crutch against my desk, I flopped into my chair and opened my laptop, navigating to the email program. My fingers flew over the keyboard. I didn’t address her by name or end with my usual insignia. I wrote two sentences.

You turned the worst time in my life into a money-making opportunity? What kind of person does that?

I hit Send, slamming the lid on the laptop. For the first time since she’d returned to New York four weeks ago, I wished Aspen were here, if only for someone to vent my rage at, knowing she’d absorb it without taking offense.

So many questions ran through my mind. If I hadn’t ended things to save her career, would she still have written that novel in the same way? She’d told me she was working on it when she was here, but she’d refused to let me look at it. Was this the reason? Or had she changed tactics after I’d broken things off?

Did I even care?

I spun my chair around to face the window that overlooked the driveway. I didn’t even have to close my eyes to conjure the vision of Jill getting into a taxi, clutching her suitcase with white knuckles and casting a glance back at the house in an almost hopeful yet resigned manner. I’d held the shattered pieces of myself together and let her go, certain in my belief that I was doing the right thing. The selfless thing.

And all the while, she’d planned to put her poison pen into action.

The ding from my email program struck me in the gut. It could be a message from hundreds of people, but I already knew it wasn’t. My suspicions were confirmed when I opened the laptop again and there it was, right at the top. A reply from Jill. I clicked on it, my eyes darting over the rows of text.

I got to the end and snorted. Sorry, my ass. How the fuck did she think I’d take it? She’d had the balls to write that she thought I’d be flattered. Was the woman insane? And that crap about never meaning to hurt me. What bullshit.

If she never meant to hurt me, I’d happily test the theory.

I typed a reply.

If you feel that bad, pull the publication.

The response was almost instantaneous, as if she’d known to wait for my reply, fingers poised on the keyboard.

I’m afraid I can’t do that.

I slammed the lid, wrenched out the power cord, and threw the fucking thing across my office.

Guess I have my answer.

* * *

“Your father is here.”

My head snapped up from where I’d had my head buried in my computer, sifting through countless emails I couldn’t muster the enthusiasm to answer. Nothing soothed me, not even work. I’d assumed it would be the panacea I needed to distract me from the fuckup that was my life, but my focus was off. I couldn’t drop in, no matter what I tried. My mind was all over the place, and I’d pretty much cut myself off from everyone. Any day now, I’d adopt a bunch of cats, completing my recluse status.