Page 39 of Between Passion and Revenge: Part Two

“How? What’s your plan? You think I can just rip up a billion-dollar contract and everyone will be cool with it?"

“Don’t worry about it, Shae,” he says, and the tone of his voice brooks no argumentat all.

I look at the clock behind him and close my eyes. Three months from now, I’m supposed to sip champagne with Zane and smile because I’ll have closed the biggest deal of my life.

I will have made it—crossed the finish line. Shae Olivya Rivers, the billionaire.

And now…I’m supposed to walk away from that? I’m supposed to?—

“Fuck.” The word bursts from my lips. I’m in this. I’m in this deep.

“What are you going to do to stop them?” I ask, still keeping my eyes closed.

When Storm doesn’t answer right away, I give myself a mental pep talk to prepare myself to look at him again.

The time doesn’t really help—it still hits me like an uppercut from Rhonda Rousey when I see his stupid, beautiful face.

Get a hold of yourself.

“What is your plan, Storm? You say we’re going to ‘work together’ and all that other kumbaya shit. So,partner, what’s the strategy?”

Storm looks like he really doesn’t want to tell me the answer but decides to anyway with a deep sigh.

“I’m gonna get the other deal pushed through.”

The silence is so absolute, I can hear the second handtick, tick, tickas it matches my stunned heartbeats.

And then…I laugh. I burst out laughing so hard the door opens, and in walks a bewildered Zane and three security guards.

“Shae,” Storm grinds out, but I stop him short with a quick slice of my hand in the air.

“You had me going there for a second, Sandoval. Nice try, but I’m smarter than the average bear.”

“Shae—”

“I understand your angle. Get me to step away so you can slide in. You’re gonna get the other deal passed through—why? What cut do you get out of it?”

He shakes his head, as if denying my accusations, but I press forward anyway.

“You wanna get me to lose half of my existing business so you can get ahead. I don’t know why you’re holding on to the past so much that you want to fuck me over like this but hear me clearly: Get a fucking life.”

His face is hard, angry, and I demand my body to look away. Because he almost got me. I’m sure those figures and pictures are fabricated to convince me to make the biggest mistake of my life.

I trusted Storm Sandoval once, and look where that got me. I’d be the silliest bitch to ever walk the earth if I trusted him again.

“Baby,” I say, sauntering toward Zane. He looks perplexed and pleased at the term of endearment, and I feel only a little bad to toy with him like this. “Make sure this asshole is thrown out and barred from re-entry.”

I put my hand on Zane’s chest, angling my body so Storm gets a clear view of my hand traveling down to his abs, dangerously close to his belt buckle.

Lowering my voice, I say loud enough for the bane of my existence to hear, “Then meet me in my office.”

With a dirty kiss to Zane’s lips, which is so thoroughly out of character, so grossly unprofessional, I continue the act for several seconds.

All the while, Storm is silent.

Yes. Fuck you, Storm Sandoval.

I flick my hair over my shoulder and look back at my nemesis, hoping against hope that he’s angry or defeated or pissed off.