“Shoot!” she exclaims, worried. “There’s that meeting in Portland, the following week.”
“Don’t worry, I can go. It might work out well, I planned to head back home for two days anyway so I might swing it afterwards if you don’t mind? I wouldn’t mind a change of scenery.”
“My God, no. You’re saving my life right now. Go see your family, or boyfriend…what’s his name again?”
I cough, almost choking at her bringing Liam up. “Uh…Liam.”
“That’s right.” Charlie smiles, rather cheekily. “How could we forget?”
Wesley slams his fist on the table, eyes blazing right at me. “Are we done discussing Milana’s personal life? I also have better things to do.”
“Like what?” I bite back, folding my arms.
My forwardness throws him a curveball, his expression turning from anger to annoyance in the matter of seconds. This game we play, it’s deadly. We’re both driven by jealously and its ugly traits. It’s almost murderous.
“My personal life, Miss Milenov, remains no one’s business but my own.”
The room goes dead silent. I wanted to tell him we’re done, that I cannot continue second guessing myself and this relationship. That my heart continued to ache from missing my mom and home. The guilt of hurting Phoebe and Liam lay heavy on my shoulders.
And most importantly—I would never be Emerson.
“I have to go get Lola. We’re done.” Emerson stacks her papers, standing up and waiting for Wesley to respond.
“As done as we can be,” Wesley scoffs.
Charlie rolls her eyes at them, following Emerson’s lead and saying goodbye, leaving me alone with Wesley.
The wrath of Wesley Rich would come undone—I could smell it in the air. His stare is cold; eyes wide without a blink.
“You’re quiet.”
“I have to go…I have a lot to do.”
I stand up, gathering my things when Wesley commands I sit.
“What’s wrong? You didn’t want me and Emerson to meet alone so I thought you would be happy. More time for you to talk with the girls about your boyfriend back home,” he snaps, insulting me.
This wasn’t the place to have another argument. My head is pounding and on the verge of a migraine with the work that stemmed from that meeting. Not to mention the emotional game of tennis that we watched being played between Wesley and Emerson.
I really wanted to be alone, and call Mom. Speak to her, ease my stress, if only for a few minutes.
“I was put on the spot. I need to go, Wesley.”
“You think I’m stupid?”
“What? No…”
His laugh is filled with sarcasm. His rocking back-and-forth on the chair starting to irritate me.
“So why don’t I believe your excuse? I don’t have time for games, Milana. Tell me what I did wrong so I can fix it.”
It’s my turn to laugh, this time unable to hide my annoyance. “Tell you what you did wrong so you can fix it? Maybe you didn’t do anything wrong. Maybe the problem is me. I said yes to being your girlfriend and have no clue who you are aside from what I’ve read online.” I take a breath, then unleash. “I mean, did you have anything to do with the drowning? What about the old man you hit? Where is he and why didn’t you serve more time? And that Farrah girl…did you hit her? Who was that the other night that wanted you to fuck her up the ass? God Wesley…questions and it’s not me to be like this but I can’t fucking concentrate when I’m around you and then your cell goes off and it’s probably girls wanting a booty call… God knows what you do when I’m not around.”
I take deep breaths, mid-panic attack. My chest incredibly tight and unforgiving.
“Shhh…calm down, okay?” He lowers his tone, peeping outside the glass to see if anyone is walking by. “I can answer all your questions, just not here. If that’s your bottom line, if you really want to know everything about who is sleeping in your bed at night—I will answer your questions.”
“You will?” I ask, maybe too eagerly though relieved.