"It was an error in judgment. I—" he began, and my snort interrupted his pathetic attempt at an explanation.
"Don't bother, Collin." I angled myself forward, placing my hands on either side of my keyboard. "I am prepared to work with you to fulfill the contract Denis and Phyllis agreed upon. Other than that, I have no desire to exchange more than the necessary words with you."
The tic in his jaw told me he was not used to me standing up to him like this, let alone putting him in his place. The knot in my belly loosened, and lightness settled in my chest. ThegameMarcus and I had been engaged in since the night at the vineyard had changed things for me. Collin had nothing on Marcus's intimidation. I also didn't carry any guilt toward my ex-fiancé. I didn't owe him shit. I pushed out of my chair and waved toward the door. "Shall we?"
Collin nodded curtly, but the thin line of his mouth told me he was not pleased with the change in our dynamic.
The morning passed relatively civilly. Denis showed up soon after, and he and Collin engaged in lengthy discussions on what was Liberman appropriate. I internally rolled my eyes so many times I made myself dizzy. Collin may have been the heir to one of the biggest fashion empires, and he was able to dress color coordinated, but his actual sense of fashion—what was up and coming—was as developed as a chimpanzee's.
Denis took us to lunch at a small but fancy (and overpriced) Italian restaurant not far from the boutique. The tables were too small to allow for sufficient personal space, and Collin and I ended up pressed against each other. I didn't think it was appropriate to all but sit in my boss's lap, but when Collin's hand landed on my thigh, I regretted my choice.
Denis (and the potential accusation of sexual harassment on the job—toward my boss) started to become the lesser of the two evils. I wrapped my hand around Collin's fingers and squeezed until his knuckles cracked. He winced but didn't make a sound. Loosening my hold, I placed his hand on his thigh, patting it once while smiling sweetly at him.
Don't you dare touch me.
We walked backto La Déesse. Collin and Denis discussed options where Collin could have dinner later, and I scanned the crowd around us until my gaze settled on a familiar face. A flutter of surprise made me stop abruptly, and Collin halted as well, touching my elbow. I couldn't avert my eyes from the person sitting on the bench outside of the boutique.
"Excuse me." I shrugged out of Collin's grasp absently before walking over to Charlie. His head snapped up at my approach, and his set mouth turned at the corners. So different from the man I spent the last two years with, yet nothing stirred inside of me. Our time was over.
"Hey." I lowered myself down.
Out of the corner of my eye, I watched Denis entering La Déesse. Collin openly studied us before following at a much slower pace.
"Hey," Charlie replied after we watched Collin disappear. "I hope I'm not getting you in trouble."
"How did you know where I work?" The pinch between my brows forced me to smooth out my features.
He wiggled his phone, and I smirked as comprehension set in. I posted a selfie in front of the window display last week after my first day.
"The girl inside said you'd be back from lunch soon. I wanted to give you something." Charlie reached behind him and revealed a small gift bag.
I attempted to mask my confusion with a smile, scanning the offering. "What's this?"
"Open it." He looked almost shy.
Pulling the handles apart, I peered into the bag and sucked in a breath. Tears instantly pricked my eyes, and I swallowed hard. "Charlie," I exhaled.
I wrapped my fingers around the large scarf. It was part of a whole outfit his mom had given me for Christmas during my junior year—the last Christmas we were together. In my hurt and anger, I had given it back with Charlie's stuff when she brought me mine. I had forgotten about it.
"I thought you might want it." The hopefulness in his tone made the slight pain in the back of my mouth morph into someone shoving razor blades down my throat.
My grip around the fabric turned to a vise, and I pulled it free from the small paper bag, clutching the material to my chest. My inhales and exhales sped up, and a tear escaped the corner of my eye.
"Awww, D." Charlie reached out, but I jerked away on autopilot.
With my back against the armrest, I found myself facing the man I once loved from the other end of the bench. The metal pressed into my lower back, yet my skin and muscles were numb to the sharp sensation. I saw him, and at the same time, my mind was catapulted back and assaulted by visuals of my childhood. Charlie's palms were toward me in a disarming gesture as I fought against the constricting agony in my chest. It hurt. I pressed my mouth together and tried to draw in air through my nose in slow, deep breaths—how I was taught to do in thesesituations. It wasn't working. Sweat formed under my silk blouse, and it stuck to my clammy skin. Pedestrians were starting to slow. Somewhere far away, Charlie's muffled plea for me to look at him registered. Something wrapped around my wrists, and a cry burst from my lips. I was in public. I needed to get it together. I couldn't. If Denis saw me like this, I was going to lose my job.
"What is going on here?" Collin's voice entered the mix.Had he always sounded so nasal?
I tried to answer, but all I managed was a croak. Someone tugged on the scarf, and I pulled back. No!
Don't take it from me.
"Denielle. Answer me," Collin shouted. "What have you done to my fiancée?" my ex exclaimed, and I finally managed to look at the men in front of me.
Fiancée? Has he lost his—
Charlie blanched, while Collin was bright red.