“A leave of absence,” says Dale over him. “Only temporary, of course.”
“Oh my god!” Shoving back from the table, I stand. “A leave of absence? Are you fucking kidding me?”
“Only until this all dies down,” he goes on. “Likely we’ll have a plan of action that will involve you and Troy doing some image control—a few public functions, some client dinners. And Troy is fully on board,” he adds. “We all want this smoothed over as quickly as possible. In six weeks, we can reevaluate.”
“Six weeks?” I cry.
Dale just nods. “That’s been company policy in the past for administrative leaves.”
Across from me, Troy nods too. He’s trying to keep his expression solemn, but I can see the faintest hint of a smirk on his lips. Fucker. This is what he wants. Any excuse to keep me trapped under his thumb. Never mind that I close nearly double the deals that he does. I may be the greater financial asset to PFH, but Troy is the legacy with ties to the company’s founder. He’s the heir apparent to our current CEO.
Speaking of the queen…
“I don’t believe for one second that Bea agreed to this,” I say. “She wouldn’t. She can’t.”
Bea Owens has long been like my guardian angel. My own mother never cared about me. She was always chasing her next boyfriend and hopping from job to job. I lived with whichever family member was willing to take me in for a few days or weeks at a time. But I was always just an inconvenience. Always in the way.
Not to Bea. She saw my talent and drive. She recruited me into PFH and paved the way for me to make junior partner. When everything with Troy and I started to fall apart, Bea helped us try and make it work.
“Where is she?” I demand. “I want to hear from her that this is what she wants.”
Troy just scoffs. “Be my guest,” he says with a wave of his hand.
“You know she’ll take my side. Once I explain everything.”
“You think so?”
“I know so.”
He gives me a grin like he just checkmated my king right off the chess board. “Well, then it should really surprise you to hear that this little plan to rehab our marriage was all her idea.”
9
“Tess!” Troy calls. “Stop walking—”
“Just go away,” I cry as I hurry my way across the atrium.
“We need to talk—”
“Fuck you,” I say, still not slowing.
The Katies sit in shocked silence as I march up to the elevator and slam my thumb against the up arrow.
“Come on,” I whimper, watching the lights flash along the top.
Troy sweeps in behind me, his hand on my shoulder. “Tess—”
“Don’t touch me,” I hiss, spinning to break our contact.
He drops his hand to his side. “You’re being so irrational right now. I don’t know how I’m supposed to talk to you—”
“Irrational?” I cry, eyes wide. “My career is on the line because you got your fucking feelings hurt!”
“This isn’t about me, Tess—”
“Everything is about you!”
Behind me, the elevator doors open with a ding. I spin away from him and step inside. Of course, he follows. I jab my thumb on the number nine and then pepper the ‘door close’ button.
“You only need to press it once,” Troy says from my shoulder.
“Shut up.”
“Pressing it again does nothing—”
“Oh my god, you have to shut up,” I cry as the doors slide shut. “Please, for once, just fucking shut up so I can hear myself fucking think!”
“God, you’re a mess,” he mutters. “I think this leave of absence is coming at just the right time for you.”
I spin around, taking him in. He’s always been handsome—dark eyes, chiseled cheek bones for days. He oozes wealth and sophistication. At 6’2”, he’s a big guy too. Working out became his obsession the summer before he turned thirty. Now he fills out his suit with those broad shoulders and that well-muscled chest.
But his beauty no longer distracts me the way it once did. Now I see it for what it is: vanity, insecurity. He works so hard to keep his body in shape because he wants other women to find him desirable and men to find him enviable.
And I know there’s been so many other women.
Puffing out my chest, I hold his gaze. “Troy, we’re done. I want a divorce.”
His eyes go wide as the elevator halts and dings, the doors sliding open. I dart out, praying the doors crush him as they close. But I’m not that lucky.
“Tess!”
I launch across the ninth-floor lobby, hurrying towards my office suite. Wrenching the door open, I charge forward, ignoring the surprised looks of the secretaries. I see Rhonda’s empty desk and my heart sinks. She’s still in her meeting, meaning I have no buffer. It’s about to be David versus Goliath, and I left my slingshot in my other pencil skirt.
“Tess! Goddamn it, will you just talk to me?” Troy shouts.
I jerk open my office door, desperate to put a wall between us and the secretaries before he tears into me. I can’t bear to let other people see me cry, and I don’t think I can hold these angry tears back much longer.
Slamming my tablet and coffee down, my chest heaves as I pant for breath. I look down at my hands splayed against the dark, polished wood of my executive desk. I can feel Troy sucking up all the air behind me as my office door clicks shut. The asshole has the audacity to turn the lock. The sound echoes in my chest, like the bars of a jail cell latching closed.
I spin around. “Unlock the door, Troy.”
“I don’t want us to be disturbed,” he counters, dark eyes narrowed at me.
“And I don’t want to feel trapped in here with you. Unlock the fucking door before I scream.”
“God, you’re paranoid,” he huffs. But he unlocks the door. “There, are you happy? Will you stop being crazy now and just talk to me?”
“I want a divorce,” I repeat.
“No.”
“Troy—”
“Tess, no. I’m not going to let you make this decision right now. You’re too emotional—”
“You’re damn right, I’m emotional! This was you, wasn’t it? You found those photos and took them to Dale, complaining about this morality clause bullshit—”
He’s shaking his head. “This isn’t about me. This is about the integrity of PFH—”
“Oh, don’t you fucking dare,” I cry. “This is about your ego and nothing else. What I want to know is why now? Why these photos? Surely you have better evidence—”
“That’s right, I do,” he says, stepping into my space. “I’ve got enough evidence of your affairs to end you. Out of the goodness of my heart, I was the bigger fucking person and I kept quiet.”
I take a deep breath, trying to find my calm. “You know, when everything first fell apart, I wanted a divorce. But your mother encouraged us to take it slow, to work on finding a fix. I agreed to counseling. It was only when I learned that you were still fucking the secretaries that I walked out.”
He scoffs, turning away.
“But then your mother came to me again and asked me to consider a trial separation,” I go on. I know he knows all this, but he likes to conveniently forget the important details. “She asked me to keep it quiet for the sake of the company, for the sake of the family. I agreed. I’d do anything for her, Troy. You know that. And it didn’t seem important to dissolve a paper marriage as long as you were behaving—”
He spins around. “Behaving? Jesus, I’m not some naughty child, Tess. I’m a grown ass man.”
“I thought we had both moved on,” I press, taking a step closer. “This was business only. It appeased your mother and helped her save face with her friends. All our mutuals know it’s over. And we were both seeing other people—”
“I kept my affairs quiet,” he shouts. “That’s the difference here, Tess. Meanwhile, you’re splashing yours across page six, making me look like the asshole of the century.”
“I told you it was nothing—”
“Yeah, like I believe that,” he scoffs.
Righteous indignation surges through me. “I’ve never lied to you, Troy. That’s your M.O.”
He glares at me, daggering me with his eyes.
After a tense moment, I let out a tired sigh. “Just give me a divorce, Troy. It’s time—”