Page 26 of The Butterfly Effect
I wasin the shower long enough for the water to turn cold, but I stayed under the stream long after I’d started to shiver. I kept repeating two words in my mind.Fix it.It made me sick that I might have to give in. That I might have to sacrifice my own self-worth for the success of my team.
I held back from crouching to my knees and vomiting, disgusted with who I seemed to be becoming, but instead, I leaned forward and turned the shower off. I quickly grabbed my towel from the rack and wrapped myself in it. Suddenly, I needed to cover myself. I had made up my mind. Picking up my phone, I sent a message.
Me:Fine. One dinner, but it’s not a date.
My heart pounded frantically in my throat when the bubble with three dots popped up, indicating he was typing. I wanted to take back my message, wishing that if I deleted it, it would mean he’d never read it. That wasn’t reality, though, and I took a shaky deep breath.
Roger:I knew you’d come around.
Me:Don’t make me regret this.
Roger:Never. I’ll pick you up in an hour and a half. Wear something nice.
Me:I’ll drive myself.
Roger sent me the address, accompanied by a smart-ass remark about how he’d rather give me a ride. I got dressed in my high-waisted, loose-fitting jeans and an oversized sweater, hiding as much of my figure as I could without looking sloppy. I still had a reputation to uphold if anyone saw us, but I didn’t want to give Roger any ideas that this was going to be more than a dinner. There would certainly be no dessert at his place.
While I stood and stared at myself in the mirror, a swirl of nausea rose in my throat. If I texted Roger to back out, the worst that could happen would be my losing my job. Judging by how angry William was with me this afternoon, that was already a very real possibility. Unfortunately, the need to prove that I could handle my own was overpowering. In this case, it meant an uncomfortable business dinner that I’m sure he was going to call a date.
It’s not a date.
When I got to the restaurant, Roger was already seated at a table in the back. He had me meet him at Chinos, a pizza chain supposedly owned by the mafia. As far as pizza places go, it was nicer. The tablecloths were an all-red fabric, rather than the plastic red-and-white plaid ones at other chains. Still, it seemed like an odd meeting place, but they were known for having the best pizza, so it could’ve been worse.
I walked to the table Roger was seated at, my stomach sinking when he looked up and saw me walking towards him. His face held a sick satisfaction and a look of triumph. “Jules, you made it,” he said, adjusting in his seat. “A few minutes late, but what can we do…”
I rolled my eyes at his comment and greeted him, quickly sitting down in the open seat across from him before he could stand up. I didn’t want him to touch me, and if he stood up, he was going to try and pull me in for a hug. Nerves flooded through me, and I hoped our waiter would come to get our drink orders. I needed some liquid courage now more than ever.
“You should just be glad I showed up.”
The feeling that something was going to happen settled in my stomach, and I looked around for the waiter. I was debating leaving when a sudden smell of cinnamon surrounded me, and I stiffened. Judging by the dissatisfied look on Roger’s face, it wasn’t the waiter standing behind me.
“What exactly is going onhere?” William’s voice was stern and deep, causing goose bumps to rise on my arms.
“What does it look like, William? I’ve finally gotten Jules to agree to a date,” Roger taunted, leaning back in his seat. William growled behind me, and I could tell he was clenching his fists. Anger radiated off him.
“It’s not a date.” It wasn’t. I’d made that clear from the beginning.
“Mm-hmm,” William harumphed. Was it me or Roger he didn’t believe?
Roger smirked at him. “Good news for you, though, Willie. We decided to accept the contract with DMI. Jules here convinced me, after all. Turns out her planispretty impressive.” When he winked at me, William glared at him, and I wanted to shrink into myself and disappear.
He took a step around me and placed his hands on the table between us. “You are accepting the deal because you have known all along that Julianna’s proposal was the best. That has been clear since the start. Are you trying to tell me there was ever a doubt?” His gaze was deadly, the dark brown in his eyes nearly disappearing with his dilated pupils.
I widened my eyes at his obvious compliment. It was the first time he’d said my work was good. He’d had spent the last several weeks critiquing every little detail in my plan, and I didn’t recall him ever stopping to tell me he was impressed. Butterflies fluttered in my stomach, quickly dying back down when he turned his glare to meet mine.
“You’re leaving. This”—he gestured to the table and Roger—“is unnecessary. I’ll drive you home.”
I crossed my arms over my chest to calm myself. “I drove myself.”
“Fine,” William snapped before he turned to Roger, leaning in close to him and lowering his voice. “Let me make one thing clear. You will return those contracts to me first thing tomorrow morning, signed. Then you will never contact Julianna or come near her again. I know what you’ve done, and you should consider yourself lucky we are here. The Giovanni family are good friends of ours, and I’d never shed blood in their establishment. If we were anywhere else, I’d beat you within an inch of your life for the shit you’ve pulled. So don’t test me. Are we understood?”
The malice in his voice hung heavy in the air, and I shivered. Roger’s face was fearful. His eyes were wide, his eyebrows were raised, and his mouth hung slightly open. His skin was pale and a small gleam of sweat shimmered on his forehead when he nodded.
“Say it,” William snarled at him. He leaned close enough to Roger to make him lean back in his seat, like he was giving himself space in case he needed to get away.
“Yes, we’re understood.” Roger’s voice was meek. He was no longer the cocky man who’d sat across from me when I walked into the restaurant.
When William shot me another glare, I stood up from my seat and grabbed my bag, trying not to trip on the leg of the chair. I was thankful for the convenient excuse to leave, but I was scared. The same kind of scared I’d felt as a kid when I knew I was going to get in trouble and my dad was going to call me a disappointment.
