He had no idea of the truth, and I didn’t want to let him in on the reason why I’d collapsed like a fucking pussy at Dean’s house. I just narrowed my eyes at him. “No one asked you to save me, Prince Dickbag.”

“So what are you gonna do, man?”

I sat up straight on the edge of the mattress and tugged at my hair. “New York,” I said, wishing the joint were still lit. “I’m gonna go back to New York.”

“I suspected you’d say that.” Jaime took a seat next to me. He smelled good. Of soap and life.

I used to smell like that too before life fucked me over.

“You can’t go back to New York, Vic. It’s Dean’s branch. He’s already pissed off with you for the Emilia shit you pulled. You can’t work there with him right now, and anyway, who the hell is going to run the office here?”

“I don’t give a fuck. I’m going to New York to claim it as mine.”

“You mean to claim Millie as yours.”

“No,” I lied. “I mean I want to work in New York. I’m sick and tired of LA.” I jutted out my chin, daring him to argue. I was a stubborn bastard and he knew it.

Jaime threw his head back and laughed, and I felt anger bubbling inside me. What was so funny about this situation? His laughter died down, but only after a full minute.

“Listen to yourself, Vicious. You’re obsessed with this girl. You’re in love with this girl, always have been, ever since you realized she’s not afraid or impressed by your bullshit. You bump into her in New York and the first thing you do is hire her. You’re in deep denial. You want her, fucking everything about her. You don’t need to steal Dean’s office. Just tell her.”

I shook my head again. It didn’t make sense. Or at least, I didn’t want it to.

“I’m going to New York.”

“Dean’s gonna be pissed,” Jaime said for the millionth time.

“Too bad. Plane reservation’s already made.” That was as far as I had gotten so far.

I needed a plan. I needed it fast.

I started with a call to HR in New York to tell them that Emilia LeBlanc was on paid leave. She wasn’t going to show up at work without some in-person persuasion—I gathered as much from her not taking any of my calls, texts, or emails. In the meantime, I asked the HR manager to inform me if Dean tried anything fishy with her job, and I made sure I had access to all of Emilia’s employee records, just in case.

Which also gave me access to her company email. It was just like high school—me thumbing through her mail to see what plans she had next.

I saw she’d already contacted a recruitment agency to have another PA on standby in case Dean or I needed someone next week. Honestly, even that annoyed me. She was clearly pissed at me, and she couldn’t even do that all the way without making sure everyone around her was nice and comfortable. Me included.

I wasn’t too worried. It wasn’t like she could go far. I knew where she lived, and she had no job prospects except wriggling into that slutty waitress outfit again. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have taken a job with an asshole like me in the first place.

On New Year’s Day, I boarded a plane back to New York. I didn’t know what I was doing or where I was staying. Dean was back at his apartment, and it was clear Emilia didn’t want to see my face.

Too bad for her.

In Manhattan I checked into another hotel and didn’t even bother unpacking this time. All the utilitarian rooms blurred into one another. Hotels poisoned the soul. Lucky for me, mine was already tarnished.

After a quick shower and a shave, I decided it was past time Emilia explained herself. I went to Dean’s building and waltzed in, using his electronic key. I knocked on her door three times and paced the hallway outside her apartment, raking my fingers through my hair.

Nothing.

I knocked again, this time banging my fist against her door. “For fuck’s sake! The least you can do is face me in person. I’m still your boss!”

Just as I finished the sentence, the door flung open, and Rosie stood on the other side.

“Where’s your sister?” I felt my jaw ticking.

She hugged the door, her chin stuck out. “Actually, I didn’t open the door to answer your stupid questions. I opened the door to tell you that you’re not, in fact, my sister’s boss anymore. She found a new job. We’re moving out on Sunday. Thanks for nothing, douche.” She smiled sweetly and tried to slam the door in my face.

I had to shove my foot between the door and the frame, just like I’d done the first time I came to see Emilia. The LeBlanc sisters definitely didn’t like my presence.

“Where is she?” I repeated. I didn’t believe Rosie about the new job. This wasn’t happening. She wouldn’t have given up her high-paying job at FHH…would she?

Fuck. Of course she would. This was Emilia.

“No,” Rosie said. “She doesn’t want to see you anymore. First, you make her break up with her boyfriend and force her to leave California…” She trailed off, awarding me with one of her infamous go-fuck-yourself stares. Her voice dropped an octave. “Then ten years later, you sleep with her in his bed. Whatever revenge tour you’re on, she doesn’t want any part of it.”

Shit. She knew about Dean.

But I knew Rosie wasn’t talking about the real revenge I was after, with Jo. That was a good sign. Emilia had kept my secrets.

I shouldered my way into their apartment, scanning it for her. She wasn’t in the living room, but endless cardboard boxes were, and they were already sealed and ready to be moved elsewhere.

Rosie wasn’t lying.

Not about moving away and probably not about Emilia finding another job.

“I need to talk to her,” I said.

Rosie shook her head. “Vicious, please. She’ll never admit it, but I can tell she cares about you. Too much. And if there’s even the smallest slice of goodness in you, you’ll leave her alone. You guys are toxic together, and you know it.”

“That’s bullshit,” I fumed. “We’re not toxic together.”

Though I knew she was right. I was missing a few pieces. A few chips I needed in order to be able to love like a normal person does. That’s why I liked breaking things, and why I especially enjoyed breaking Emilia. She was the purest thing I’d ever met.

“Where is she?” I asked again, not making a move. I wasn’t going to leave until she told me, and I think she knew it too. “Where’s your sister? I need to speak to her. We can do this shit for hours, and I still won’t stop asking until you give me an answer.”

Rosie looked down. “She’s gone to an open gallery night by the Hudson. The Height of Fire exhibition. She starts work at a gallery there on Monday. A woman she sold a painting to who used to work at Saatchi really loves her work and…”

I didn’t give a fuck about the rest. I just turned around and stalked for the door, but Rosie jumped on me like a little ninja, clasping her hands around my midsection. I spun around, staring at her coldly. She winced, as almost everyone did when I used that look on them.

Everyone but Emilia.

“Please don’t, Vicious. She’s the strongest link in our family. She takes care of me. She is the reason my parents go to sleep at night trusting that we’re okay in New York. You can’t weaken her. She is our wall.”

I shook my head and left.

Like the fucking wrecking ball I was.

THE NIGHT WAS RAINY AND cold, almost cold enough for snow but not quite. I was glad for the coat I’d invested in with Vicious’s money. I didn’t even feel guilty.

My new boss, Brent, a man in his late thirties, lived near the apartment we were about to vacate, so we’d shared a cab and then had a quick drink while he filled me in on what to expect at the exhibit.

My new job at the gallery was just an internship, and the pay was awful, but when Rosie saw the look on my face, she’d basically forced me to say yes. My baby sister was feeling much better and was picking up her old job as a barista once we moved. A job where the tips were great, and the owner was flexible with the hours she could work.

I tried not to give myself too much crap for agreeing to work for Vicious in the first place. My situation was dire, with Rosie’s health and everything, but never again. I was glad it would be over this weekend after we moved into our new place. I was eager to release myself from Vicious’s painful claws.

It was the New Year, and he was my resolution. I was done with him.

Brent and I hurried the short distance to the gallery through the horrible weather, and I heard a familiar voice that made my heart stop.

“Emilia!”

My first instinct was to not turn around, to keep on moving, especially since my new boss was there. But I wasn’t capable of ignoring anyone. Not even him. I spun slowly on my heel, the sleet lashing on both our faces as I drank Vicious in. He ran across the street to get to me, his whole body tensing when he noticed Brent next to me.

“Who the fuck is this tool?” He scowled.

Oh, God.

I blushed furiously, turning to Brent with a crimson face. The last thing I wanted was for my new job to start off this way. I inwardly cursed Rosie for telling Vicious where I was, because I knew he had no other way of finding out I would be here. Then I proceeded to also inwardly curse Vicious for having a broken gaydar, because Brent was clearly playing for his team, not mine.