Nemesis(33)

“You said that you hope I get run over by a car!” he growls, a muscle ticking in his jaw. “You’ve been nothing but a bitch, not letting me get one word in! You’re acting like I f*cking cheated on you or something, when I didn’t!”

“That was a hope, not a threat,” I say, smiling evilly. So I’ve said some things I’m not proud of, but hey, when I’m angry or hurt, sometimes I can’t help what comes out of my mouth.

“Maybe you’re not who I thought you are,” he says, sounding disappointed, which really sets me on edge.

He’s disappointed?

That’s rich.

“Don’t you dare turn this around on me,” I say, gritting me teeth together. “I told you no more secrets, Cohen. I told you I want to hear things from you, not from random people trying to hurt me by letting me know about the shit you’ve done. I’m sick of looking like a f*cking idiot because you keep me in the dark. You think the fact that you have multiple women at your beck and call is not something you should tell me?”

“I don’t have a f*cking squad,” he whisper-yells, leaning closer to me. “You’d know this if you f*cking listened to what I’m saying, instead of being stubborn! Maybe you shouldn’t listen to what others tell you!”

“Oh, so there’s no truth to Rebecca’s accusations? You admitted it was true, so don’t bother giving me that bullshit!” I fire back at him. We shouldn’t be having this conversation at work, but then again, I didn’t exactly give him any other options.

“What she told you was true. Was, not is…” he says, taking a deep breath. The elevators open and two people get out, so Cohen takes a step back, gives me a look that says ‘this isn’t over’ then walks away.

But it is over, isn’t it?

What did he mean it was true, but now isn’t? He had a squad but got rid of it?

He’s now squadless?

Well, good for him.

I dig my fingers into my palm and count to ten in my head.

Conflicting thoughts run through my mind. Am I being stupid by not hearing him out? Am I being stubborn and hard-headed, like he said? Probably. I am stubborn, I know, and it’s not one of my finest traits. I’ve also gone into self-protection mode—anything to keep me from not getting hurt any further. I guess it depends on what I want out of this. Do I want to listen and work something out, or is that door now closed forever?

Is the Cohen era a hundred percent over for me?

I shouldn’t have just shut him out like that, without hearing his side of the story.

I should just talk to him.

Fuck.

Yeah, I should.

Tomorrow.

*****

Three Days Later

When I see Cohen first thing in the morning, I decide it’s time I stop being a bitch and just listen to what he has to say. I wanted to talk to him for a few days now, but put it off every time. I can hold a mean grudge, but I can’t keep ignoring him forever. I need to hear him out, and after that, I can decide what to do—it’s only fair. I should hear him out once and for all, and see how he thinks he can rectify this. However, when I see him, I can sense that something’s different. When he stops by my table, he doesn’t try to talk to me about anything. In fact, he’s brisk and straight to the point. His eyes no longer plead with mine, and his tone is no longer conciliatory.

“Good morning. Can you reschedule my afternoon appointments today?” he asks, waiting for my reply, his expression blank. He gives me nothing—no emotion, no anything.

“Sure,” I say, making a note on the Post-it in front of me. “Anything else?”

“No, that’s it,” he replies, then goes inside his office.

So, that’s it, huh?

No more chasing, no more begging to give me explanations?

I will not be upset by this. It’s what I wanted, right?

Fuck.

A few hours later, I’m typing away furiously on my laptop when a sultry voice interrupts me.

“Excuse me, could you please tell Cohen that Sandra is here. He’s expecting me.”

I lift my head in a flash.

Standing in front of me is a stunning blonde. She has her hair pulled back in a high ponytail, and her hazel eyes are lined in kohl. She’s dressed fashionably, in skinny jeans and a beige blazer.

She looks like a model.

“Ummm, yeah, sure,” I say, picking up the phone and hitting the button for Cohen’s office.

“Yes, Jacinta,” he answers, sounding distracted.

“Sandra is here to see you,” I say, keeping my tone even.

“Okay, tell her I’ll be out in a minute.”

I stay silent.

Who the hell is this woman?

“Jacinta?”

I hang up on him and look up at what is possibly my replacement. “He will be out in a minute.”

“Thanks,” she replies, beaming at me.

What is she so happy about?

Bitch.

She must be getting the D from Cohen. Why else would she be so happy?

She takes a seat, and I sit there, silently fuming.

How am I meant to react to this? Better yet, why am I panicking?





Chapter Eighteen


Cohen comes out of his office and, without so much as sparing me a glance, leaves with Sandra. I don’t want to admit how long my eyes stay on those elevator doors, but when he finally returns an hour later, alone, I quickly avert my gaze.