Page 65 of Play for Power (Central Sparks #3)

And then I see Daniel and his smug fucking face from where he leans on a pillar near the elevators.

I don’t process much of the decision I make in this moment, I just see his dumb head and I storm right up to him, feeling the sting on my hand as I slap my open palm clean across his face.

“You should have been swallowed, you fucking stain,” I hiss at him while he doubles over, clutching at his face.

Hope it leaves a mark.

I head straight for the elevator and get lost in the numbness as my mind struggles to come to terms with everything that just went down.

I should have known better. I should have been smarter, should have anticipated every fucking move.

Of course my father would do this. Had I not heard his threat?

That he’d end my career by simply cutting off one of his many puppet strings?

Had I really thought to call the bluff of Antonio Garcia?

Maybe I deserved this for being so goddamned foolish.

What’s worse than realizing I had the wool pulled over my eyes?

Is wondering if any of it was real. Had I even earned any of it?

Was every title that came my way orchestrated somehow?

Had Chris only ever selected my pitches because he had to?

Out of fear for funding? Did I earn that first promotion out of my intern year, or was Chris paid to take me?

Ha. All this time I thought people were finally seeing me as Rosie Garcia, for my worth and my talent, for the heart I put into every day.

That I was Rosie Garcia, the youngest intern to become a junior editor.

Rosie Garcia, the youngest editor to have five titles in the New York Times best sellers.

Rosie Garcia, the youngest editor to be appointed chief of her very own imprint.

When really? I was just Rosita Antonia Estefania Garcia, the Monaco heiress, born into wealth and success. I am a prisoner, and my life has always been decided, before I was even born.

I feel like I’m floating on a cloud; I don’t remember getting into a car or the drive back to my apartment. I don’t recall the walk through the lobby, and I don’t remember pressing the elevator buttons. All I know is that it takes everything in me to hold myself together. To not crumble to pieces.

My mind feels like a raging chaos bin, my chest aches with hollowness, and I have this need to…to just crumble. And the thought of crumbling alone, in a cold apartment, with nothing but the empty possessions of a fake life I never had control over, sounds utterly miserable.

With my brain a chaotic mess of finding a way to stop the ache, the pain, and the complete despair that is slowly destroying me, I imagine eyes of deep blue, a smirk that makes my heart skip, and warm hands that caress my skin.

I see Caleb, and I really don’t have the energy to analyze or be scared of just how badly I wish he was here.

The elevator doors open and I stumble the last few steps to round the corner, holding back the sting in my eyes until?—

“Surprise!” The sound of Casey and Addison has me jumping, my hand to my heart, and by how quickly their cheerful smiles drop into pale concern, I’m pretty sure I’m wearing the utter destruction of my day across my face.

“Rosie, babes, is everything okay?” Casey’s brows pucker in concern as they both take a few steps toward me.

I want to reassure them, tell them that I’m fine, that it’s nothing I can’t handle, but all of it is a lie.

Because I’m not fine, and I’m falling apart, and I hate everything about the fact that I’m crumbling in front of them.

I’m Rosie, the feisty one, the one who’s strong, who can handle anything. I’m the bulldog that defends my friends and fights the battles no one else can. I don’t fall apart, I don’t let other people beat me down, I’m always on top…I’m always in control.

The dam breaks and I fall to my knees, the sob ripping from my throat.

“Shit, Rosie. What happened?” Addison skids to the floor in front of me, her hands on my shoulders as my face falls into my hands.

I can’t stop the tears that fall, the cries that I’ve buried, and the pain I’ve ignored.

I can feel Casey’s hand on my back as Addison pries my hands from my face and wipes my tears.

The two of them are on the floor in front of me, and Casey drags my body into her lap, holding me.

I hate it, and yet I can’t even fight her off.

It doesn’t feel right and it isn’t going to fix anything, but having these two here sure beats being alone.

Addison’s face is thunderous, her anger growing as she continues to wipe my tears.

“Why”—for God’s sake, I’m hiccuping—“why are you guys h-here?”

“Oh, girl, it’s your birthday! You think we weren’t going to come celebrate?

We were just trying to get into the apartment with the balloons and wait for you to get home, but I guess you left early?

” Casey’s voice is her usual sunshine, trying to lighten the mood as she rubs a hand up and down my back.

“Is this hot idiot?” Addison asks, her eyes searching mine as her face hardens. “Do I need to cut a bitch? Because I will. I know you usually do the cutting, but I will suit up and go to fucking town, Rosie, just say the word. What happened?”

I cry harder. No, hot idiot is not why I feel like the essence of my very being is being ripped apart. Hot idiot is actually the only person I can think of right now who might make me feel less like a ghost.

“I can’t right now.” I can’t talk about any of it because the girls have no idea how deep this is; they don’t know about my father, they don’t know about my fucked-up family. They know they suck and that I hate them. But they really only know the Rosie I’ve created.

“I can’t do this right now, guys.”

“What do you need, hon?” Casey whispers in my ear, and I hate the pain in her voice. I know they hate seeing this. My chest feels slightly warmer knowing Casey will catch me and Addy will go to war for me, but it’s…not what I need.

I look at the girls and there is nothing but love in their eyes, and I no longer have the fight in me to keep all these secrets. I have to let some of them go.

“I need…can you call Caleb?” I breathe the words and stand, shaking myself out of their embrace as a fresh sob breaks its way out of my throat. The two of them stand there, shell-shocked, and I walk to our apartment door, opening it and walking with haste to my room. The girls are hot on my heels.

“C-Caleb? Like, our Caleb? Sex-pest Caleb?” Casey shakes her head in confusion. Addison’s eyes blow wide with a whispered “Oh shit.”

“Caleb’s hot idiot?” Addison asks, and I laugh a little at the words, a watery smile across my face for a moment, even as more tears and more sobs break free. God, I’ve never cried so much in my life.

“Please, can you call him? I need him,” I whisper, and then go to my room, closing myself in the darkness, cutting off from the world, and collapsing in a heap on my bed.

I don’t know how long I lay there, numb but aching.

My pillow feels wet with how much I’ve cried, and though my eyes feel a little dryer right now, I can feel the lump in my throat and know that I’m not done.

There is shuffling around the apartment, but I just don’t care, and I don’t have it in me to work out what the girls are doing.

I must have dozed off at some point because I stir awake at the soft knock and opening of my bedroom door. That familiar scent hits my nose and a fresh, watery sigh leaves my lips when the melody of his sweet voice hits my ears.

“You in here, pretty girl?”