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She rolls her eyes. “Here we go again. You’re fond of this, aren’t you? Playing the manipulation game. That’s your hobby?”
“Manipulation?” I scoff. “You think this is me manipulating you?”
“Isn’t it?”
“Look, I don’t have the mental fortitude to argue this with you. There’s only one fact we both know here. You’re a lying, conniving cheat.”
“Name-calling? Really?” Rachel smirks. “That’s what you’re resorting to?”
I shrug. “I’m just being real.”
“No, you’re not real. You’re jealous. You’re jealous that I turned a good idea—“
“—that you stole from me—”
“—into a better business venture, far more profitable and successful than yours.”
“So, you do admit it then?”
She scoffs. “Let’s face it. I did you a favor. You should be thanking me for it. You don’t seem to have much luck going for you in that category.”
Anger fills my chest. Breathing harshly, I glare at her. The audacity of this girl! “How dare you?” I grit my teeth, glaring at her. “You have a lot of confidence for a thief.”
Rachel chuckles. “Are we still running with this narrative, Kaylee? Seriously, you ought to have moved past this.”
I grip the handle of my cart so tight my knuckles turn white. “How does it feel, Rachel? How does it feel knowing what you own, and everything you achieved, is because of me?”
Rachel’s eyes twitch a bit, and a grim satisfaction settles in my chest. Oh, I know that. I’m familiar with it. She always does that eye-twitching thing whenever she feels uncomfortable.
Folding my arms, I continue, “No, tell me how it feels. I need to know. Because let’s face it, you stealing my recipe was the ultimate game changer for you. Boosted you straight up. Put you on a pinnacle so high that you were able to quit working for me and establish your own business.”
“So that’s what you can’t handle? The way it’s thriving for me?”
“No, that’s not what this is about. This is about you admitting the truth. Hell, you’ve kept this in for too long, Rachel, how do you sleep?”
“I sleep well,” she says, a smug smile playing at her lips. “I sleep very well. On a very comfortable bed, too.”
I sigh, nearly resisting the urge to yank my hair. This is useless. It doesn’t matter what I say or how much I confront since Rachel Emerson is never going to see it. How do you persuade someone to see what they’ve done wrong? Especially when they know they have. Impossible, that’s what it is. For someone like her, it’s going to be nothing but a Herculean task. She’s still living in self-denial and she still believes she did the right thing. The realization washes over me like a wave, and it makes my anger dissipate.
All I can feel, for her, at this moment, is nothing but… sadness. She’s built a part of her life on false pretense and lies. I’m sure there’s no way she ever gets to enjoy true happiness.
Stepping back, I rotate the trolley cart past her. With a small smile, I say, “I’ll see you at the event, then.”
“Oh, you will. You definitely will. You also better bring your A-game on, because I’m winning it.”
I hope you don’t steal someone else’s recipe while you’re at it…
Moving away, she says behind her shoulders. “Oh, I can see that you’re looking for a good customer appeal, and it pains me to see that you’re on the wrong side, as always. You should try Skitters.” She rolls her eyes in disgust. “Everyone knows Granny Smith is very basic.”
I’m seething in rage as the cashier rings up my order and bags it up. Stuffing the groceries in the trunk of my car, I slam it shut and get behind the wheels. My heart is pounding erratically as I switch on the ignition.
Rachel can’t win. I’ll never allow that to happen. She can’t win this, not again. Never again.
My anger is bubbling over the surface as I pull out of the parking lot. This is my chance to prove to myself – and to Rachel – that I’m more than capable, so I’m going to do everything to make sure that I don’t fail.
I’m going to win that contract, come hell or high water.
Chapter Eight: Ian
