Stealing Rose (The Fowler Sisters #2)(69)
“Are you scared to face him?” Like I’m scared to face you? I don’t want you to find out my truth. I’m afraid you’ll hate me.
Rose goes still, her hands dropping to her sides, her head bent almost as if in prayer. Slowly she turns toward me once again, vulnerability and sadness etched across her face. “Yes. He’s going to give me the ‘I’m so disappointed in you’ speech. I’ve heard it before and he knows I hate it. But I have to do this. I can’t work there any longer. I’m spinning my wheels at Fleur.”
“Are you sure that’s what you want to do?” I ask. “Quit Fleur for good?”
She lifts her chin, defiant. “I’ve thought long and hard about this. I’m not making this decision lightly.”
“So you’re really going to do it.” The last few nights we’ve talked, tentatively revealing things. Personal details, though nothing ever too incredibly deep, especially coming from me. I’ve listened to her talk for hours about Fleur, her father, her father’s skanky girlfriend whom he just asked to marry him. Rose has mentioned off and on that she’s considering leaving Fleur but I thought it was just talk.
Guess not.
She nods, her eyes dimming. Hearing the word quit can’t be easy. “I don’t know what else I can do. I can’t go back there and continue on as if nothing’s wrong. I’ll be too miserable.”
“So you’ll just give up on the family business. On everything you’ve worked toward since you were a kid.” I can’t believe it. I would never call Rose a quitter. She’s so determined, so fiery when she sets her mind to something. Like I told her a couple of weeks ago, she’s got passion.
She’s also been handed an opportunity so many would kill for—hell, I would kill for it. My family has nothing. My family is nothing. Me and Mom. That’s it. Whereas Rose has her sisters, her father, her grandmother, and who knows how many more people who love and support her.
And I’ve got shit.
“There’s more to it than that.” Her lips thin and her gaze slides away from mine. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“No, I guess I don’t understand why you would trash your career and a job you love all over a woman you don’t like. All because you feel underappreciated.” I shake my head. Am I trying to goad her on purpose?
She looks at me, her eyes flaring with anger as she clenches her hands into fists. Standing like she is in just her black lacy underwear, the fury and frustration pouring off her in waves, I can’t help but think how beautiful she looks.
Beautiful and super pissed.
“There’s more to it than that,” she says. “This isn’t just about Pilar.”
“Really? Could’ve fooled me.”
Her jaw drops open for the briefest moment before she snaps it closed. “Why are you being such an ass?” She goes to the closet and yanks a black dress off the hanger almost violently, shaking it out so the fabric snaps. “You don’t know what it’s like to be me. What I have to deal with. It’s really unfair that you sit and pass judgment on me when you have no clue what you’re talking about.”
A strangled sound leaves her as she tugs the dress over her head, working her arms through the sleeves, then shoving the skirt down past her hips. I don’t say a word; I hardly react, and I think that only makes her angrier.
Which will only make it easier when I have to walk away from her. She won’t mind as much when I go if she’s mad at me.
At least, that’s what I tell myself.
“They won’t miss me when I go.” She reaches behind her to zip the dress up and she’s having a hell of a time. She isn’t asking me to help her, either. “Trust me. No one cares about my pitiful contributions at Fleur. I’m more of a figurehead than anything else. Violet is the one who’ll take Daddy’s place when he retires. Unless Pilar pulls a fast one and somehow takes over, snagging the position from Violet. Not that I want to be there and witness that mess go down. Ugh.” She yanks on the zipper but it’s not budging.
I go to her, batting away her hands and pulling the zipper up into place with one smooth tug. I trace my finger across her nape and she steps away from my touch, glancing over her shoulder to glare at me. “You needed help,” I say with a shrug as I take a step back.
“My anger has nothing to do with you helping me with my dress and everything to do with how … unsympathetic you’re being toward my problem,” she explains.
“I don’t really think you have a problem at all. That’s why.” I go to her, kiss her cheek and give her shoulders a squeeze. She shrugs out of my touch and I let my hands fall, irritated. “Your pity party isn’t getting you anywhere, Rose. Before you make such a life-changing decision, talk to Violet. Listen to her. Listen to Ryder. Get their opinions on what you should do.” Listen to reason, I almost add, but that would really infuriate her.
“‘Pity party.’ God, you’re rude.” She reaches for the pearl earrings resting on the dresser and puts them in. “I’m tired of listening to them. I need to listen to my instincts, and trust me, they’ve been screaming at me lately.”
I say nothing again and she glares as she shoves her feet into those incredibly high, sexy-as-hell black stilettos she wears. I need to watch what I say before she kicks me square in the nuts with one of those things.