The only people who know about us are Ricky and Billy.
And Elle, but I don’t even know if Daniel has had a conversation with Elle about me. She didn’t say, and neither did Daniel.
The doubt monster is loose in my head, climbing like vines from my feet to strangle me, rooting me in place, desperate for Daniel to disagree. I’ve wanted him for so long and thought my dreams were coming true. Especially tonight when he asked me to come to this dinner. It’d felt like such a big step.
But maybe not. Not like this.
Not as some dirty secret, not as someone he’s only using to fill a physical need. At first, I could’ve managed that.
Hell, I flat-out offered it! But not now. Not after hope has made space in my heart.
In a snap, like a wildfire hit by a strong wind, the vines surrounding me catch flame, burning hot and fast.
“Are you serious? You’re not going to say anything to that?” I declare loudly, just this short of a yell. “You’re going to sit there and let him reduce me to nothing more than a sex toy? Like I’m nothing more than a pretty fleshlight?”
“Tiffany.”
The expression on his face is one I haven’t seen before, and I’ve studied him for years. There’s no guilt, no shame, but also no care or concern. He’s blank, and certainly not reassuring me in any way that he disagrees with Paul’s crude comments, which throws a shot of gasoline on the flames burning through my soul.
“No, you know what? Don’t even try!” I yell now, anger sweeping me away. “I told you that if you just wanted to fuck on the down low, I was okay with that. But you said no, that it was more than that! And I believed you. But I’ve never felt more like a show pony on parade than you just made me feel.”
I point at my heart, which ironically is now reddish thanks to the spilled wine. Appropriate.
A waiter comes up, looking panicked. “Ma’am, please. You can’t use that language . . .”
Daniel finally speaks again, his voice low and hard-edged, like he’s warning me. “Tiffany—”
Tears are threatening, but I won’t give Daniel the satisfaction of seeing me fall apart even more, of seeing how deep I let him in, of how much I’d hoped that this was growing into something as meaningful to him as it already is to me.
I take a deep, choking breath and steel myself.
“I might be young,” I hiss, grabbing my purse, “but I know enough that I don’t deserve to be treated like this. I expected better from you, of all people.”
My glare flicks to Paul, whose eyes are wide in shock, but I can see the gleam in their depths. The asshole is enjoying the dramatic firework show he set off. I point a finger accusingly at him, spewing anger at what he not only said but thought. “And I have a feeling that regardless of age, your wife has always had to do the work with a limp-dicked husband like you. Congrats on telling everyone here that you’ve never made a woman come because you’re a selfish prick only out for your own jollies.”
I take a breath, ready to unleash another verbal torrent of pettiness and pain, but I realize that I’m yelling and have garnered the attention of the entire restaurant. This is not what I wanted, not what tonight was supposed to be about. I’m horrified, angry, and hurt.
I whirl on one foot, nearly running for the front door of the restaurant. I bump into a table as I go, ping-ponging and causing people’s fancy crystal glasses to clink together, but I really don’t think I could make things worse right now. I feel their eyes on me every step of the way, and mine burn with unshed tears.
Out front, the valet recoils when he sees me, but like a pro, he hops into action. “Taxi, ma’am?”
I nod, climbing in the back, and tell the driver, “Go.”
The driver looks into the rearview mirror. “Address?”
I shake my head, emotions slamming through me, putting me on edge and hammering my defenses. “Just go.”
At the corner, as the restaurant disappears, I give myself permission to fall apart, and the first tears start.
Chapter 21
Daniel
“I’ve dealt with a lot of different types in my career,” I tell Paul, my eyes burning a hole in the man, “but you’re a fucking Neanderthal.”
“Daniel, I—”
I stand, throwing my napkin to the table. “Consider TRE blackballed from any venture capital. I’ll put the word out that you’re a well-earned lawsuit away from insolvency. Nobody will touch you. And when you crash and burn, I’ll hire your employees and take the tech anyway.” It might not seem like the fire and brimstone Tiffany unleashed on the man, but I’m hitting him where it’ll hurt him the most—his business, his work, his legacy. I’m precision sharp in cutting deep and letting him know that I’ll enjoy every second of his downfall, eating popcorn while he bleeds out. In fact, it’s already started because people all over the restaurant are looking up TRE on their phones and whispering. I hear someone say ‘that’s Daniel Stryker’ and know the first step of my work is done as far as Paul is concerned.