“You didn’t.” Brent leaned into my face, sighing. “I’m just hoping you’re not going to disappoint you.”

I made my way to Vic’s office right after I handed in my resignation. On the subway, I thought about the fact that I’d never resigned from so many good jobs in such a short amount of time. Ever. But I knew what I wanted, and what I wanted was to move to Los Angeles. I’d never been there, but it didn’t matter. He was going there. My parents were there.

LA was my home, and I hadn’t even been there yet.

I sauntered into Vicious’s office, and as usual, his receptionist gave me the stink eye, though at this point she knew better than to try and stop me from getting inside. Over the past few months, I’d walked in that door countless times, and, embarrassingly, produced noises she could hear perfectly while I was there. Noises that clearly gave away the idea that I was engaged in some grueling cardio activity. Vicious didn’t have a treadmill in his office, so she knew exactly what we were doing.

“Hi.” I nodded to the receptionist.

“Mmm,” she answered back, flipping through a glossy magazine with a picture of heavily photoshopped Selena Gomez on the cover.

I missed Patty. I’d only worked there one week, but it didn’t stop me from getting attached. She was fun, even when she’d twisted my arm so I’d ask Vicious to do things for her.

It took the young receptionist exactly three seconds to realize where I was heading, and when she finally snapped from her gossip-induced haze, she jumped from her seat and waved her arms at me.

“You don’t want to go in there!”

I’d stopped knocking on Vic’s door long ago. Since he took me to see the cherry blossom tree, to be exact. It was as if after that, there were no secrets between us.

I arched an eyebrow and stared at her questioningly. “Why?”

She shook her head, looking exasperated and stressed all at the same time. “He’s…he’s with this woman. It’s been loud the last half hour.”

She was kidding me.

“What?” I felt my face whitening. The receptionist pushed her hair back. She was sweating. She looked like she wasn’t sure what she should do. This was serious.

“I don’t know, I hope he’s okay. I…”

Before she could finish her sentence, I twisted the door handle and breezed into his office.

It was loud in there, but he wasn’t the one doing the screaming.

And he was with someone.

The last woman I expected to see.

Jo.

Josephine was standing over his desk, her manicured fingernails clawing at the glass, yelling loudly, while Vicious sat perfectly still in his executive chair. His eyes tore from her to me, and he gave me a private smirk peppered with a wink. It said “nice to see you” and “don’t get too attached to those panties, because I’m going to chew them off you in a second” all at the same time.

His chin rested in his hand, and he got back to staring at Josephine, who turned around and scowled at me.

“Can’t you see we’re in the middle of a conversation?” She jerked her head to me and seethed.

I walked over to her silently and slapped her. Hard.

Violence is never the answer. But it felt good when directed at the woman who orphaned the man I love.

Shocked silence filled the air after the thwack of my palm, before Jo brought her hand up and rubbed the pink flesh of her cheek.

“I hate you,” I said, staring at her through a curtain of unshed tears. “And I will protect him from you. Any way I can.”

She made no move, too astonished to react.

“It’s fine.” Vic waved her off dismissively, rising from his chair and striding in my direction.

I still eyed her like she was trash I forgot to take out, and he placed a kiss on my cheek and collected my wild hair into a ponytail, releasing it over one of my shoulders.

“Emilia knows everything, and I mean every fucking single thing, so you can talk freely in front of her.”

I still couldn’t seem to unglue my eyes from Jo. We did look alike. Sort of. And it made me sick to my stomach. Oh, how Vicious must have felt when he saw me day in and day out and all he could think about was the woman who was responsible for his mother’s death.

I hugged him, then slowly moved to her. All I did was squint at her, and she almost crumbled to pieces, still clad in her Prada dress, her high heels, and fake demure expression.

“Why are you here, Josephine? Are you begging to get thrown into jail?” I asked.

She blinked at me once, like she was sure I was incapable of actually talking just because I wasn’t the proud owner of a thousand overpriced designer dresses.

“Emilia? I thought your name was Millie, honey. Bless your heart, and here I thought you’d be cleaning someone else’s toilet right about now. You know, like your folks? Talk about ungrateful. I gave you a roof, a job, and a good education, and this is how you repay me?”

“Josephine,” Vic warned, “I wouldn’t upset my girlfriend, unless I was eager to get out of here in several pieces.”

“Fine,” she huffed. “I came here for negotiation, not to get ripped off.” She pointed at Vicious animatedly. “I’m not giving you everything.”

“You are, unless you want to get charged with murder.” He loosened his tie.

I stayed rooted to the floor, too stunned to do anything. He was so calm all the time that I’d mistaken his indifference for a lack of feeling. But I was wrong. Vicious was full of feelings. He was a walking, talking ball of feelings. Just because he didn’t wear his heart on his sleeve, didn’t mean his heart wasn’t bleeding.

“Baron, if you think I’m stupid, you’re dead wrong. I know exactly what you did. I always thought the timing of my brother’s death was odd. Just before you went to college, after you’d already gotten bigger, physically stronger.” She wheezed, blinking. “I always maintained there was something off about you. Told your dad you were a psycho.”

Vicious shrugged. “This is fucking adorable. You do understand that your opinion has zero weight in court, right, Miss Delusional? What you need is a little thing called hard evidence. Got some of that?”