Page 85 of Dirty Play

“This is bullshit,” Rowan snaps.

“I’m sorry, Livia,” Christina sighs. “Your termination is effective immediately. You can pack your things now.”

Rowan’s hands slam onto the desk. I don’t flinch, but Christina does.

“You fire her,” he roars, “and you’re gonna have one hell of a legal fight on your hands.”

I reach for his arm.

His muscles are coiled so tight that he’s shaking.

“Rowan.” My voice is quiet and calm. I’d say I’m about a minute away from an emotional breakdown. But I can’t do it here. I’m walking out with dignity. I’m not begging anyone for forgiveness over something I did fully intentionally.

He turns his head slowly, looking down at me, chest rising and falling too fast.

“It’s done,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady. “There’s nothing else to fight for.”

“Are you hearing yourself?” He stares at me like he doesn’t understand what I’m saying.

I square my shoulders and drop my hand from his arm.

“Enough, Rowan.” And then I say the words that end it all. “You’ve fucking done enough.”

His face goes blank, his lips parting.

“Livia, I’ll walk you out,” Christina exhales.

“No need, Christina.” I shake my head, rising to my feet. “I know where the door is. Thank you for everything.”

Rowan’s still watching me, but I don’t look at him. I can’t.

Instead, I walk to the door with every ounce of strength I have left and don’t look back. I make it all the way to the elevator before I hear him.

“Livia.” His voice cuts through the air, sharp and urgent.

I keep walking, my head high, my heels clicking against the floor, my fingers wrapped so tight around the strap of my bag that my knuckles are white.

I don’t care what he has to say.

I don’t care about his excuses, backpedaling, or desperate attempts to improve this. Because nothing can make this better. Nothing can fix this.

A strong hand wraps around my arm, pulling me to a stop.

“Livia—”

I rip my arm away from him and spin around so fast that he actually takes a step back.

Good. Let him be afraid of me for once. Let him fucking feel it.

“You got what you wanted, right?” My voice is shaking. It’s not weak; it’s just filled with too much. Too much pain, too much anger, too much of everything.

“Fuck, no.” His jaw clenches. “That’s the last thing I want.”

I laugh, a hollow, bitter sound that barely feels like it belongs to me.

“You wanted me gone,” I snap. “From the second I walked into this job, you wanted me out of here. You wanted me to be some weak little thing that couldn’t handle you.”

“That’s not what you are.” He shakes his head.

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