Page 35 of Pieces of Us

‘If you’re looking for Lincoln, I just came from his office. He needed…help with something.’ There’s a wicked gleam in her eyes as she wipes around her mucked up lips and glides her hand down her rumpled dress.

My stomach lurches and I sway slightly on the spot at how Billie emphasised the last vulgar part of her sentence. There isn’t a piece of furniture in my reach to prevent me from fainting should I need to. So much for his earnest little text messages and professions.

Speaking of the devil, Lincoln stalks from his office, the same direction Billie appeared from. His eyes frantically seek mine, rushing towards me as he calls my name.

Taking in his appearance, I’m repulsed. I’m nauseated. I’m revolted.

The strands on his head look as if fingers have recently raked through them—classic french-tipped ones, I bet—and his face is flush. It’s the sight of a man who has recently run a marathon or had an intense sexual release not too long ago.

As he steps closer, I notice something else about him. A smudged red lipstick mark stains the corner of his jaw—the same coat and colour currently painting Billie’s mouth.

My stomach flip flops inside, the urge to throw up threatening to occur at any moment. I turn my eyes down in disgust, thinking about how I can escape this awful situation.

‘I should have known,’ I accidentally murmur, shaking my head in utter dismay, my eyes fluttering up momentarily to dash between the two of them and their scruffy appearance.

‘What?’ Lincoln says in confusion, looking down at himself and glancing at Billie before a look of horror crosses his face. ‘No!’ He’s wild with panic. ‘It’s not what you think, Hart.’ He goes to grab my arm, but I anticipate his move and yank it back.

‘Don’t touch me,’ I hiss, very aware of not making a scene at the place my dad owns.

‘Billie, for God’s sake, tell Amity that nothing happened.’ He turns desperately to her, and she looks like she’s the cat who caught the cream. Instead of validating what he’s saying, she smirks.

I wish I wasn’t famous because if I was a nobody, I would kick him in the balls and tear Billie’s stupid fucking fake extensions from her skull.

Rather than engage in this spectacle any further, I calmly find the right words to leave. ‘I’m going to get some files from Uncle Jacob’s office. Won’t be long.’

Once again, I’m humiliated, heartbroken and gullible. Lincoln has never and will never change.

Chapter 17

Tearing Me Apart

Amity

My hands are clammy and my heart is hammering as I manoeuvre my way around the gruesome twosome to get into Uncle Jacob’s office.

Ella is lingering around, which means I’m pretty sure she overheard the ugliness, but I can’t muster enough strength to care. There’s a scuffle behind me, and I can hear he’s trying to speed up to me. I’m not sure who’s blocking his path, but I don’t give a fuck. I just want to get away from him. Now.

‘Excuse me.’ I hear the bite in his voice to whomever he’s talking to.

A boa-constrictor tightness squeezes my heart as I desperately try to hold my tears at bay.

Painful memories of Lincoln and Billie sear my brain. I ignore whatever stares are thrown my way, my only mission to move towards the privacy of Uncle Jacob’s office.

Fuck Lincoln and fuck that whore, Billie.

‘Amity!’ he all but yells, his voice echoing behind me.

My face burns as he draws more attention to the commotion swirling around us. I hear whispers around me, some in confusion over what the hell I’m doing here, and others shocked that someone like me is actually standing in an architect and building firm, having it all out with the son of one of the directors.

Lincoln leaps in front of me, grasping my shoulders, demanding me to stop in my tracks. I refuse to look at him, violently trying to wrestle out of his grasp.

‘Fuck off, Lincoln,’ I seethe menacingly, trying to keep my voice low as more of his colleagues traipse past us.

‘No,’ he grounds out, determination steeling his handsome face. ‘I won’t let you think I fucked Billie.’

‘Today, you mean?’ I snide, again trying to pry myself from his grip.

He lets go, forcefully shoving his sleeves up his arms.

---