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“You tell me.” Even his voice seems strange and I step back.
He moves forward, towering over me. “Tell you what?”
“Why you’d do this to me?”
“I haven’t done anything, Mac.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really.”
“Only you and Kennedy knew about my book, so there’s no point in denying you’re the one behind this. All I want to know is why.”
“How can I tell you that when I didn’t do it?”
He takes a breath, looking up at the ceiling for a moment, and then lowers his eyes to me again, frowning slightly. “Okay. I’m not angry, I…”
“Yes, you are. You’re furious.”
“I just want to understand, Ella. I need to know why.”
“I’d kinda like to know that myself.” His frown deepens, like he doesn’t understand. “I’d like to know why you’re so quick to believe I’m the person responsible for all this.”
“Because it’s the only thing that makes any sense.”
“Is it?”
“Yes. Think about it. No-one other than you and Kennedy knew about my novel, but unlike you, Kennedy had nothing to gain from selling a story like this to the press. Why would she sabotage her own show, for Christ’s sake?”
“I don’t know, but in case you’ve forgotten, I’m a multi-millionaire. Why would I need to sell you out for a few thousand dollars?”
“Is that the going rate for betrayal these days?” he says, his eyes darkening.
I stare up at him, shaking my head. “I didn’t betray you.”
“And yet, you’re the one who comes out on top. You get your own show, with nothing to stand in the way of you becoming the next celebrity chef… and my career is over.”
“I don’t want the damn show, any more than I want to be a celebrity chef. That’s never been my ambition.”
“Then why did you do it?”
I don’t know the man standing before me, and as he shakes his head at me, I realize I don’t want to… not if this is what he thinks of me.
“I didn’t. But you’ve clearly made up your mind about me, and you’re not gonna listen to a word I have to say, are you?” I choke back my tears and although he steps forward, I move away, toward the door. “I thought I meant something to you, Mac, but I guess I got that wrong.”
“Ella? What are you doing?” he asks, fear rather than anger lacing his voice now.
“What does it look like?”
“It looks like you’re walking out on me.”
“Well done. You might have been wrong about everything else, but you got that right.”
He shakes his head, following me, as I get nearer the door. “No. No… don’t do this.”
“You seriously expect me to stay when you refuse to listen… to believe in me?”
“Okay… I’m sorry.” He holds up his hands, palms out, like he’s surrendering. “Let’s sit down and talk.”
