Page 51 of Between Passion and Revenge: Part Two
“I’m hoping something will click in his brain, and he’ll accept my decision and stay away.” Not that I really can dedicate a lot of time to thinking about my relationship issues with Zane—not when there’s a real chance he’s going to try to usurp my power with a board vote or some other measure.
On the other end, Yenn’s phone buzzes, the sound coming through the speaker.
“Ah,” she says. “That was King. He says, ‘Is ten p.m. soon enough?’”
A breath surges from my chest. I’ll get to see my babies soon.
“That’s wonderful,” I reply, trying to paste on a bright smile. “Tell him thank you for me, please.”
Yenn huffs and speaks as she types, “Shae says ‘thank you,’ jackass. Please note the ‘jackass’ is from me.”
“Yenn, stop being mean to your brother,” I say, pulling out my mom voice.
“Well, he started it,” Yenn mumbles.
“Mmhmm,” I hum.
Yenn hesitates. “Do you need me to come to you, Shae?”
Immediately, tears well in my eyes. God, how I wish I could have someone to lean on, someone to share the burden of this heavy truth I’ve been conscripted to carry.
I don’t want to carry it. I don’t want to be strong.
All I want is to be loved and cared for.
But that’s obviously asking for too much.
“I’m okay, Yenn. I’m just gonna pop over to my babies. Take a vacation for the first time ever. It’ll be okay.”
Yenn presses, “You promise?”
“Yeah,” I say. “I promise.”
We hang up, and I flop back on my bed, discarding my phone somewhere in the comforter.
Breathe. Breathe, Shae.
What can I do to prevent myself from absolutely losing my shit?
Right when I decide to exit my bedroom in search of a glass of wine, a loud knock has me jumping for the gun on my nightstand.
Who thefuck?
My heart rate speeds up at the thought, maybe it could be Storm, but then it drops to my toes at the thought that…maybe it could be Storm.
On my tiptoes, I pad to the front door and peer out the peephole.
I freeze, all my alarms going off. What do I do?
“Liv?” he calls out, his tone cautious and…almost remorseful? I get a flash of us studying together back in Cambridge, of the time we celebrated our first big contract. Zane’s been my friend for years. Does it make sense for me to be wary of him after we’ve been through so much?
“What are you doing here?” I ask when I open the door a fraction, keeping my firearm out of sight. Zane smiles wider, holding the oversized bouquet of flowers he gave me earlier.
“I went to find you at the office, but you’d already checked out for the day. Since when do you leave before seven?” he teases. I frown.
“I do so when I’ve had an obnoxiously stressful day and my business partner threatens me,” I bite out.
Zane blows out a breath, his eyes sliding closed.
