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2. Mila

"Every fucking word coming out of your mouth is a lie, Cole."

Men are a peculiar thing. Even when you catch them with their dick in someone else's mouth, they find a way to lie.

Cole shoves a meaty hand through his sandy blonde curls, and tugs at the strands with a look of denial on his face. He thinks a sharp shake of his head is enough to convince me that he's innocent. He thinks his continued denial will make me discredit what my own fucking eyes have seen – but I'm not the same naïve girl I once was.

"I already told you, Mila, I'm not fucking her."

Insincere. Bullshit. I don't care that I'll regret having this cigarette, even as the guilt already begins to weigh heavily down on me, I bring it to my lips and light it. I'm not one to smoke all the time, only on occasion, like if I'm drinking, or stressed to the point I'm going to kill someone.

The thought makes me laugh. My laughter is muffled with the cigarette perched between my lips. Cole clearly doesn't understand why I'm laughing considering this whole fucking situation isn't funny.

I take a drag, close my eyes and try to imagine something other than his face. The sympathy in his eyes makes me loath him. I hate it. I hate him. He doesn't like my silence. He wants me talking, acting like I normally do around him. He wants the comfort of what our relationship used to be, but he's not going to get it.

This isn't the same Mila who cleaned him up when he was shit face drunk and fell on his face, breaking his nose at the bar. I won't go back to the girl who keeps cleaning up his messes, even after I've been shit on a million times.

"I saw you, Cole." I assert, before taking a big drag of my cigarette and tossing it over the edge of the balcony we're standing on. He doesn't expect that response. He thinks I'm completely fucking oblivious and that he can play off my accusations like I'm crazy or psycho – like a lot of these assholes keep trying to make us women out to be when they're guilty.

"W-what do you mean?"

His voice gets a little higher. He appears a bit more on edge, and his eyes dart back and forth across the city our building overlooks. I can see him trying to formulate a solution to the can of fucking worms I've opened. He doesn't know what I know, what I saw or when, but he's already trying to make up excuses in his head.

"If you're going to get a secret blowjob from some hoe, I suggest you make sure your front door is locked."

"I don't know what your talking about," He argues, and clutches the metal fence enclosing us on the porch. It creaks from his tight grasp, and he frowns angrily down at the city. I pat him on the back and pretend to console him.

"There, there, it's okay. I'm glad I saw that, so I can stop wasting my fucking time." My words are sticky with sarcasm dripping from each syllable. He notices and steps away from me. "That's the problem with you men. You just can't admit when you've fucked up in the first place."

He opens his mouth. Then closes his mouth. He stumbles finding the right thing to say. I've caught him. This is no longer an innocent game of cat and mouse, and regular jealousy, no, it's fucking crunch time.

"I, uh, can't even stand to fucking look at you." I hold my hand over my mouth for a moment.

I'm thankful my stomach has already settled and I'm no longer nauseous every time I see her lips wrapped around his cock in my mind. When I think about it, I feel rage. It's empowering.

"Now, I can do what I need to do. You can go fuck yourself. I'm done with you."

I've wasted eight months of my life on this dickwad. He can't even stick up for himself or be man enough to admit it. He does the most disrespectful thing, and just ignores it all. He twists on his heel and saunters back into the house without another fucking word, and leaves.

"Good fucking riddance," I mumble after him.

All I yearn for is a stiff drink.

When my phone vibrates, and Kassandra's name pops up on the screen, a small smile forms on my lips. Where there's Kassandra, there's booze.


I know she wants something as soon as I arrive to the club. She's perched on the edge of her seat, the small, round table in front of her is filled with drinks and shots - her treat - and when her eyes land on me they widen so much I'm sure they'll swallow her entire head.

Her fiery red hair is in loose ringlets tonight. She looks stressed from the bags under her eyes.

As I near the table, she stands and holds out her arms, pulling me into a hug.

"Hey girl," she greets with a soft smile but she can't hide the sympathy in her eyes. After I explained to her what was going on over the phone, she didn't have to pull my arm to get me to come out. Getting drunk and avoiding reality is exactly the kind of medicine I need to heal the aching pain in my chest.

"Sorry about that asshole," she continues and sits down. I sit, nod slowly, and reach for a shot. I don't care what it is, as long as it'll get me drunk. She raises her glass to toast but I'm already downing the liquor before she can get words out. I'm onto the next before she takes a sip of her drink.

"I'm swearing off men," I declare before a burp erupts from my lips. She smiles widely at me, bemused by my declaration.

"Amen to that." She giggles and takes a shot for herself. "Although I hope not completely," she adds. I'm confused, but not sure if I'm intrigued enough to ask why. She doesn't wait for my response anyways.

"'Cuz' I need a favor," she admits.

I hold up my hand to stop her from continuing and shake my head in opposition.

"No, no, no, I can't keep going out on double dates with your cousin Barry. It's not worth it. I'm sorry," I ramble quickly. She snorts and some of the alcohol in her mouth squirts out onto the table, and I laugh. Barry is the awkward cousin of hers who keeps being a third wheel with Kassandra and her man Mike. To make things less awkward for her, Kass invites me along as his date. It's not pleasant.

"Nothing like that," She replies, and wipes her mouth. "We need an assistant at my firm."

"No." I don't even think about it. I know how stressful and crazy her work get's and I enjoy the Hide Hotel front desk work. They're nice and accommodating over there.

"Please? Damien keeps firing his assistants and it's proving horrible because now he doesn't know what the fuck he's supposed to be doing and I just don't think I can fucking handle him, sometimes, ya know?" She gulps for air after gushing about her troubles. I sigh because all she has to do is pout with widened eyes and I give in. She clasps her hands together and bats her lashes.

"I will give you more than the Hide," She offers, and her face takes on a hopeful expression.

"I don't work weekends."

"You got it," She nods.

I eye her for a moment, make her sweat and worry just for having a hidden agenda but ultimately oblige.

"When do I start?"

"Tomorrow morning."

We both glance at the shots and break out in laughter. The best thing to do the night before a new job is get shit faced. Thankfully, my hotel job is per diem.

"What do I need to know about Damien?"

I see the hesitation flash across her face, and I cross my arms over my chest expectantly.

"What?"

"He's very alpha male."

"As in?"

"He likes things a certain way. Coffee, sugar without cream on his desk at seven a.m. every morning. Organization is important to him. Being one step ahead. I'll email you everything he's currently working on, so you can be prepared for tomorrow. Frankly, I think he just likes fucking around and that's why he keeps going through assistants. Either fucking around or fucking the assistants. Either way it's not fucking working for our firm," She grumbles and rubs the space in between her eyes that is wrinkled from her frowning.

"Fucking them? Dear god, Kassandra."

"Hey," She places her hands firmly on the table and leans forward. "I know damn well you can handle him."

I lean back in my seat, cross my legs confidently, and swing my hair over my shoulder. I wiggle my brows suggestively, and giggle.

"I know I can."

"Just don't let him get to you. He can be very charming."

"Oh really?"

She nods.

"Has he charmed your panties off yet?"

She coughs a little and looks mortified.

"God no. He's like the annoying brother I've never had," She rushes.

"I'm sure I'll be fine."

She offers me a tight squeeze from her hand on my arm and a reassuring smile.

I'm glad she's offered me something though. I need to get my mind off Cole.

The thought of him leads my hand to grasp another shot glass and I down another shot.

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