Page 27 of Playing Hard to Get

“You okay, Viv?”

“I’m not feeling very good. I'm going to head out.”

Her eyes searched mine, but I dropped my gaze and clutched a shaky hand to my mouth.

“You going to be alright?”

I nodded but couldn't find the words to speak.

“We still on for lunch tomorrow?”

Shit. I couldn't. I couldn't say no. She’d know. She had to suspect already. I met her gaze and gave her a tight smile. “See you tomorrow.”

“Take care.”

Striding quickly across the room, I grabbed my coat and purse out of the hall closet. Made it to the elevator, down, and out. I didn’t bother calling my driver, just hopped in the closest cab and got the hell out.

Before the knife could go any deeper.

Before I could fall any further.

7

Vivian

My head was throbbing. I had too much to drink last night. Nearly a bottle of wine to drown my sorrows. I didn't taste it. Just wanted to feel it.

So I could remember what I’d done. Remember what happened when I lost control.

And I was still feeling it.

The pain.

It was there. Like a knife stuck in my back, twisting, ripping skin and breaking bone. Killing me bit by bit.

I had to force myself out of bed this morning. Down to the gym where I spent an hour on the treadmill and elliptical machine. The only thing it did was make my legs burn. Then I spent the rest of the morning sketching out new designs, one after another until my hand started to cramp.

It was pain on top of pain.

Sipping my lemon water, I stared out the window at the sunny spring day, watching as pedestrians passed on the sidewalk next to the restaurant where I sat. It felt wrong for the world to look so beautiful when I felt this horrible. I should have told Frankie I couldn't meet her. We could have rescheduled our lunch. I could have put it off, then left town again. Got away from it all, left it all behind and prayed it all went away before I returned.

But Frankie would see through me, like she always did.

So I was here, waiting for her to show up. Waiting for the day to be over. Because tomorrow I was leaving town. With a sketchbook full of new designs, I was compelled to get started with my team. Get the fabrics picked, the designs finalized, all so production could begin.

The slight rush of fabric sweeping my way drew my attention. I pulled my gaze from the window and found Frankie coming toward me. She was smiling, but it wasn’t the full, beautiful smile she gave when all was well. There was that concern I hated to see, directed at me. Like I deserved it. Like I hadn’t hurt her time and time again.

I forced a smile on my face, all fake, fake, fake. One I learned from my father to hide when something was wrong. It could be useful in business, but a tell to someone who knew. Unfortunately, Frankie knew.

The smile dropped from her face. “What’s wrong, Viv?” She stopped in front of me, dropping her bag on the table before leaning down to kiss my cheeks.

Lifting my hand, I tried to wave away her concern, but movement behind my cousin caught my attention. My breath caught in my throat and a wave of nausea raced through me. I shook my head, dragging my eyes back to Frankie. “I don’t feel very good.”

“Still?” Frankie sat, taking her body out of my line of sight, letting me see the man that had made me feel sick.

“How’s it going, darlin’?” Mitch stopped at the table and Frankie jumped out of her chair.

“Hey, you made it!” She wrapped her arms around Mitch’s neck as he hugged her tight.