Seven Nights of Sin - Lacey Alexander [102]
“I already did. And you used it to steal my fucking job, to fucking lie to me.” He shook his head. “You had me fooled, that’s for damn sure. Here I thought you were so sweet, so…so fucking genuine.” He laughed without mirth at what he probably thought was irony.
She held her hands out in front of her, helpless, beseeching. “Everything was real. Everything between us. I swear, Damon.”
But again, he just pointed to the door. “I don’t need any more lying, deceitful bitches in my life, Brenna. Get out. I mean it. I don’t want to hear another word from your lying mouth.”
Brenna didn’t know what to do. She feared her chest would burst. Her eyes ached, her nose was running from crying, and her legs had grown weak. And Damon wouldn’t listen to reason, wouldn’t even let her try to make him understand.
“Now!” he yelled, making her flinch.
So, like a frightened puppy with its tail between its legs, she scurried toward the foyer, picking up her purse on the way, stopping only to look back at him when she’d reached the double doors.
“Get out,” he said one more time, low, menacing, as if he couldn’t believe she was still there, still trying to hang on to him.
She had no choice but to open the door and walk out, letting it shut behind her. Leaving behind the man she loved, the man who, miraculously, had loved her, too—until he’d found out about her lie.
She’d known from the start that this was a bad idea. But she couldn’t have imagined how much she’d have to lose when it was over. And she felt as if she’d just lost…everything.
THE WAGES OF SIN
“Great eagerness in the pursuit of wealth, pleasure, or honor, cannot exist without sin.”
—Desiderius Erasmus
One
Brenna was exhausted. She’d barely slept in days. Maybe weeks. She’d returned from Las Vegas both physically and mentally wiped out, and rest had been nearly nonexistent in the two weeks since.
She sat at her desk with her head in her hands. Her new desk, at the Blue Night offices, which was shoved into a tiny corner. She’d decided to keep working from the office, despite the fact that Damon had worked from home, because she currently spent about half of each day putting out fires Jenkins’ new administrative assistant couldn’t yet handle and—Brenna feared—maybe never would.
Just then, the new girl, Collette, rounded the corner. “Brenna, the copier is jammed again. And that reporter guy I told you about called again for Jenkins, and I don’t think he believes me when I say he’s not in.”
Brenna just sighed. Then fixed the copier. And explained to Collette to simply keep lying to the reporter, explaining, “It doesn’t matter whether or not he believes you.” Of course, she’d never had to lie about Jenkins not being in—only since the shit had hit the fan two weeks ago had that started. But unlike her, she didn’t think Collette minded lying—she just wasn’t very good at it.
Upon returning to her own desk, Brenna contemplated how to handle the rest of her day—minus future interruptions from Collette. She’d quickly learned that having such an unstructured job made it easy to put off doing the less desirable parts.
Like calling back Blush’s new manager. She supposed it was smart of them to hire one, but why had they had to go and get a heavy hitter like Tommy Max, the toughest guy in L.A.? He’d been a thorn in her side for a week, making demands she had no idea if she could fulfill.
She also had a message on her desk from Malcolm Barstow, whom she’d inherited from Damon—and who was none too happy Damon was gone. He was threatening to leave the moment his contract was up and she hadn’t the first idea how to convince him not to, especially now that he was big enough to go with one of the majors if he wanted.
She’d once thought being an A&R rep would give her a feeling of importance, security. Ha! All it had given her was a constant headache. And a broken heart.
Strange—she’d only had a week with Damon, but she couldn’t get used to sleeping without him again. The bed had felt