38. Mandy

The clacking of my nails on the keyboard was barely enough to keep my mind occupied. LV Interiors was supposed to have a meeting with Jack tomorrow—one final tallying up of everything we'd done and how much he owed us. Harry was on the books to go to the meeting tomorrow instead of me but considering his tardiness and the number of emails and phone calls I'd received complaining about his performance lately, I wasn't expecting him to actually follow through on it.

Which left it to me.

Harry had been off with me since the grand opening. At first I'd assumed it was just because he was still healing, but the longer it went on, the more it felt like a punishment. Like he'd somehow found out I'd had sex with Jack at the campus and hated me for it. But in fairness, I hated myself too.

But I didn't want to see Jack again. That last romp in the spare office had been the last time, and I'd promised myself that. But I also told myself I'd never see him again, never give myself the chance to act on anything stupid, and now I was stupidly going to have that chance because Harry couldn't get his act together.

I stared at my empty ring finger as I typed, that sinking feeling in my gut hitting me once again. I was having to fight myself more this time than I had ten years ago. Back then, I'd let myself fall apart because of him. I'd barely made it through my last year of college. I'd cried down the phone to anyone who would listen, distracted myself with pinball and studying but pestered Wade any chance I had. I wasn't going to do that this time, but every time I saw the lack of a ring on my finger, it made me want to. Even after what he'd done. Maybe he'd been right — maybe he was just overworked and stressed out of his skull because of the supposed threat. But I couldn't overlook what he'd done just because of that.

Surely, getting over him a second time would be easier. It had to be.

The front door of the office opened, distracting me from my task of the day. I glanced over the monitor, spotting Harry's mop of blonde hair through rows of blinds. "Hey," I called out.

He stopped in the middle of my doorway, his shoulder leaning on the frame. The hollows under his eyes were the worst I'd ever seen them, his frame thinner, his hair messy, the little cast still on his nose. Everything, for the most part, had healed — his ribs were almost normal, his bruises faded. But he still looked like a wreck. "Hey, Mands."

I stood from my desk. "Jesus, Harry," I mumbled, crossing the room in a second. I pushed his hair back, trying to make him look even slightly more presentable. "You have a meeting in an hour. I know you're not doing well, but you could've tried to make yourself a little more presentable."

His stained, oversized hoodie and joggers were enough to make me irate, but I tried to have patience with him. He didn't want to talk about what was ailing him, and as much as I understood that, if he was going to show up to work he could at least wear a button-up shirt and slacks. "I did my best," he mumbled.

"You didn't. I think I might have something of Jack's in my car that you can wear," I sighed, giving up entirely on his hair. "And I probably have some concealer in my purse."

"I don't want anything of Jack's," he grumbled, catching my hand before I could put it back down by my side. He turned it over in his palm, taking in the empty ring finger. A smile too wide crossed his lips. "Finally took it off?"

I rolled my eyes at him as I snatched my hand back, my hand rubbing my wrist to calm me before things got heated. "I shipped it back to him last week. You'd have known that if you'd bothered to show up to work. Did you honestly think I was going to keep it on?—"

"I've been busy. I told you that."

"Yeah, well, it's starting to become a problem, Harry," I said. "You've missed meetings. You've bailed on customers. Do you know how bad that looks on us? Do you know how many emails I've gotten, how many of our clients have said you've shown up late or didn't show up at all?—"

"I don't really care how it looks," he scoffed, dark, tired eyes meeting mine. "We're doing fine. I just need this situation to blow over and then I'll be back up and running."

"And what exactly is this situation?"

"Nothing you need to concern yourself with." He crossed his arms over his chest. "So is it over, then? You and Jack?" Of coursehe brought it back to that. Why had he been so hung up on that lately?

"I don't want to talk about that," I mumbled as I took a step back from him.

"I'm asking as a friend, Mandy. You shipped it back, so it can't have been an easy break," he said softly, his lips pursing as I met his gaze again. "I'm sorry for the way I was reacting before, to the stuff with you two. I was just worried about you, and honestly, I think that's rightly so."

Well, that's unexpected. "You're right. Genuinely. But I really don't want to talk about it," I insisted, pushing down that part of me that did want to talk about it, the part that wanted to turn it into the big deal it genuinely felt like. But I wasn't going to let myself. "We have some stuff to go over before your meeting with Jack tomorrow if you're still going."

"Can't," he said, his word too quick, too certain. "I've got a doctor"s appointment."

I sighed in frustration as I glanced at the document I'd been typing up. "You couldn't have told me that sooner?"

"I've been busy. And we didn't talk about the thing with Jack."

"Why do you keep bringing it back to that?" I whined, leaning back against my wall of filing cabinets. "I told you I didn't want to talk about it."

"Yeah, because you don't want to be proven wrong," he chuckled, a smug little smirk crossing his face. "I told you this would happen, and you chose to ignore it. He's a shitty guy, Mandy. Did you really think he'd changed?"

His mood shifts were beginning to give me whiplash. Was he sympathetic, or was he smug? "I don't need to have my stupidity shoved in my face."

"No, but I don't want you crawling back to him like some sad-eyed puppy dog desperate for attention again." He snorted at his own words, only irritating me further. I hated this side of Harry. I barely ever saw it, but it had come out in full force since the start of all of this. "Like, what kind of a man is he if some silly little email threat was all it took for his facade to crumble? A real man wouldn't just drop someone he supposedly loves. He's weak. You need someone stronger than him, someone who will take care of you."

Email threat?

Email threat.

"I didn't tell you about the email threat," I said, locking eyes with him from across the room.

He blinked at me as his words replayed in my mind. "I didn't say anything about an email threat."

"Yes, you did," I breathed.

"I didn't."

"Don't gaslight me." My head spun as thoughts hit me from every which way — he'd been unhappy about this from the start. He'd tried to get me to stay away from Jack. He'd been there the night that Tiana had mentioned Jackson's problem with the military project, the threats his coworker's partners were under, the kidnapping. He'd been gone so much lately, likely not sleeping, not eating. Jack had said — Oh my god, Jack had said he'd egged him on. Jack had said he'd baited him.

Did he send the email?

"You must've misheard me."

"Harry—"

"Listen to me, Mandy," he started, taking a step toward me. "I understand your heart will always have a soft spot for him, I do. But he's not who you're supposed to be with. Not who you're fated for. I think you know that, and I think you always have."

I took a step back, my blouse catching on the drawer of one of the cabinets, the fabric tearing at my shoulder.

"I'd treat you so much better than he would," Harry said. Bile climbed up my throat as he closed in, sunken eyes wild as they stared me down. "You know I would. I'd take you out to fancy restaurants and the press wouldn't be on our heels. I'd buy you anything you wanted. I'd fuck you the way you deserve to be fucked—raw, hard, dirty."

"I don't want that at all," I whispered, my back hitting the rear wall of my office, the photos hung there shaking from the small impact. My heart was speeding up, too much hitting me all at once. It was him. It was Harry. It was him.

"You do. You just don't realize it yet. And that's… that's okay, Miranda." He closed the distance, caging me in with his hands. Too easily, he slotted a knee between my thighs, locking me in place. "I always knew it would take you some time. Years, even. But I think you might just need a little push."

Cracked, dry lips met mine before I could protest, little bits of stubble scraping against my skin. His tongue darted out, swiping against my pressed-together lips, trying to part them. I could smell his morning breath. My flesh crawled at the invasion of privacy, the disgusting desperation coating him.

I placed both hands on the center of his chest and pushed hard, disconnecting us. "Get off me," I croaked. My heart hammered in my chest, my lungs hurting, my mind panicking. It was him. It was Harry. It was him.

"Or what?"

My palm collided with his cheek before I even knew what was happening. The slap left a stinging red mark, and as his eyes flashed with anger, I knew I'd fucked up. Royally.

His mouth slammed into mine with enough force to make me shriek, and he took advantage, forcing my lips to part further, snaking his tongue inside. One filthy hand cupped the side of my waist and dug in its fingers, coating me in the feeling of dirt and grime.

I pushed, but he didn't move. I hit, but he didn't move. His knee pressed in between my thighs, rubbing at the top of them, and I wanted to scream. I wanted to cry. He forced his tongue into my mouth again, searched out my own, and dear God I didn't want this.

I didn't want this.

I didn't want this.

His other hand fumbled with the buckle on his belt, that all-too-familiar rattling noise making the bile in my gut rise. I pushed, pushed harder, retreating my tongue and body as far as I could. "Stop, please, stop." I barely managed the words around his mouth, barely kept myself from crying?—

I heard the footsteps in the main hall before I'd even noticed the door had opened. Harry took a step back, too forcefully, too quickly — and I knew he heard it too from the little smile covering his dampened lips. He turned to look, his body blocking my view, but nothing could block out him.

Jackson's eyes met mine over the top of Harry's head, every bit of anger and frustration hidden as he took in the sight before him. It only flooded in as he turned his sights on Harry.