Page 9 of Hate Me Like You Mean It

She dropped her hands with a tired sigh, her voice softer when she continued. “Dominic and Rosie leaving was a good thing, even if you couldn’t necessarily see it in the beginning. You’ve matured, you’ve had years of peace… why would you want to go back, knowing it would only make you more angry, more miserable? If you engage, he’s never going to let this go. But if you ignore him, he might leave for good. And that’s what you want, right? It’s what you’ve always wanted. Him gone from your life.” She paused, a tinge of something resembling dread skimming over her eyes. “The two of you are poison when you’re together, Alice. It’s really hard to watch.”

Her words seeped into my veins, extinguishing the flames that had been tearing through them since I’d stormed out of Cory’s office two hours ago.

“Am I wrong?” she asked gently, placing a comforting hand over my upper arm.

I shook my head, my mouth too dry to speak.

No. She wasn’t wrong. This probably wasn’t very healthy. It didn’t make sense for me to take the job just to get revenge on him and feed the… the all-consuming vortex.

“So… you’re not gonna do it?” she asked hopefully.

I hesitated before managing a small “no.”

Her shoulders sagged with relief. She let me go. “Phew. Okay.”

I attempted a smile, but it felt forced.

“And we’re good? You and me?” she asked.

“Always.” How could I be mad at her for being honest and looking out for me? I’d have done the same thing.

“Perfect.” She shoved her phone into her purse. “I’ve got a client event tonight, so I have to go.”

What? “Seriously? But?—”

“I know, I know. I’m sorry. I didn’t say anything because you sounded upset when you called, so I told them I’d be late. I wanted you to have the time and space you needed to get everything out.”

I chewed the inside of my cheek, guilt unfurling in my stomach. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“It’s not a big deal. This was more important.” She placed enough cash on the table to cover the full bill and patted my hand. “We’ll chat later this week, okay?”

She was out of her seat and weaving through the chattering tables just in time for our waiter to arrive with a fresh round of shots and the wings I’d forgotten we’d ordered. “Here you go. Anything else I can get for ya?”

“Just the bill, please.”

“Sure thing. Did you want that all together or separate?”

“Together is fine.”

I took out my card and tucked Rachel’s cash into my purse. I’d give it back to her tomorrow—penance for lying, since I wasn’t going to let the Dominic thing go.

Not this time.

4

I would never willingly admitto the number of hours I’d spent brainstorming all the ways I could inflict distress and misery on Dominic Crawford once I had full access to his lair, but let’s just say if I’d tried half this hard in school, his only claim to fame today would be as a tiny, forgotten endnote in the backmatter of my best-selling autobiography.

The cab driver shot me yet another curious glance as the dark gates leading to Dominic’s palatial estate eased open—no code required. I didn’t see any security around, so either Dom was already two steps ahead and expecting me, or he’d become rusty and forgotten how this worked.

I hoped it was the latter. He’d be in for such a rude awakening if so.

When the car started moving again, the driver finally caved. “You know I gotta ask, right?”

I was surprised it’d taken him so long.

He wanted to know why I, the twenty-six-year-old woman wearing a tailored designer pantsuit and heading into the depths of The Bridle Path, was doing so at 4:45 in the morning, while carrying an elegantly wrapped bouquet of toilet brushes.

“You know Dominic Crawford?” I asked.