Love Bug (The Prescotts Book 3) by Tara Wyatt (electric book reader .TXT) 📗

Rain hit the windows in a rhythmic pattering, obscuring his view of everything below. Lights shone like smeared stars, the cars and taxis below nothing but inching specs.

Sophia would never feel the rain on her face again because of him. Because she’d just wanted to be loved and he couldn’t do it.

“Max?”

He turned, his heart vaulting into high gear at the sound of Willa’s voice. She stood several steps inside his office doorway, a wet umbrella in her hands dripping onto the floor. At the sight of her, his stomach tightened and his pulse hammered in his temples. For half a second, the emotion that gripped him was pure euphoria.

Which was fucking terrifying because he’d never felt anything remotely close to that whenever he’d looked at Sophia. Never. He hadn’t loved her and look at the damage he’d done. What would he do to someone he…no. No.

Willa’s eyes had zeroed in on the necklace and for a second, he felt pinned in place by those enormous hazel eyes.

“Are you okay?” she asked softly, taking another tentative step into his office. Her gaze flitted back and forth between him and the pendant dangling from his fingers.

“What are you doing here?” he asked gruffly, sitting back down in his chair. He dropped the necklace back into the box and put it back in its drawer, closing it harder than was necessary.

She flinched slightly but didn’t back away. “I forgot my wallet in my office,” she said quietly.

He swallowed, his jaw tight. Not saying anything because he was too busy fighting an internal tug of war. He wanted her to stay, but he needed her to leave. Now.

She took another small step forward. “Are you okay?”

“Leave it, Willa,” he said, his voice a low warning. Refusing to look at her, he poured himself another drink and took a healthy sip. “You shouldn’t be in here.”

“I just wanted to see if you were alright,” she said, her voice soft, careful.

“You shouldn’t waste your time caring about me.” His tone was rough, cold, even as his heart squeezed painfully at having to push her away again.

She moved forward, walking slowly until she stood directly in front of his desk, her face pale, almost glowing. “But I do care about you, Max. And I don’t see that as a waste of time.” Heat radiated through his chest at her words, so he took another drink, trying to drown it. He shook his head and took another drink. He couldn’t let it matter that she cared about him, because he could feel his walls crumbling around her. Could feel the rise of that intense emotion only she’d ever been able to elicit in him, making him want to pull her into his arms and lose himself in her.

“What was that necklace?” she asked, her voice piercing through his fog of scotch and self-loathing.

“Get out.” Nostrils flaring, he ground out the two syllables between clenched teeth.

She reached out, her delicate fingers curling in the air. “I didn’t mean—”

“I said get out!” he snarled, anger and fear knotting together inside him. “Get out!”

Her eyes went wide as they filled with tears, a tremor coursing through her. “Fuck you, Max. You’re an asshole.”

Finally, she saw the truth. Good.

She turned and stalked out of his office, her shoulders rigid. The door slammed behind her, echoing through the empty space. He was alone again, just like he deserved. He was an asshole, and he wanted to feel relieved that Willa knew it now too. But he didn’t. All he felt was hollow. A wave of nausea rocked him and he stood from his desk, pacing again to the window, taking his glass of scotch with him. He knew it wouldn’t help the turmoil in his stomach, but he didn’t care. He took a sip and sucked in a breath, trying to get a handle on the emotions rocketing through him. But they were slippery like eels and kept slithering through his fingers until everything he was feeling coalesced into one awful, terrifying truth.

He was in love with Willa Banks. And definitely not in any kind of healthy way because this love wasn’t sweet and tender. It was needy and possessive and brutal.

“Fuck!” He whirled and threw his glass against the wall, watching as it shattered into a hundred pieces, leaving shards of glass scattered across the floor. He dropped into his chair and slumped forward, his head in his hands.

FreshPrincessOfChelsea: Hey, you’ve been pretty quiet for a couple of days, so I just thought I’d check in and see how you’re doing. Everything cool?

BetaTestAccount23: Yeah, sorry. Just busy with work and stuff. How are you?

FreshPrincessOfChelsea: I’ve been better. Remember how I said I was determined to get over that guy?

BetaTestAccount23: Yeah.

FreshPrincessOfChelsea: Well, I’m definitely over him now. Turns out he’s a *giant* asshole.

BetaTestAccount23: Shit. I’m sorry, Princess.

FreshPrincessOfChelsea: It’s okay. It’s for the best, honestly. He was already totally emotionally unavailable and then he practically took my head off for daring to be nice to him, so I’m done. So, so done.

BetaTestAccount23: He sounds like a real piece of work.

FreshPrincessOfChelsea: He is.

FreshPrincessOfChelsea: God, I feel guilty saying these things about him. Because I know that deep down, he’s not a bad person. He’s just hurting over something he doesn’t seem to want to let heal.

BetaTestAccount23: That’s very generous of you.

FreshPrincessOfChelsea: Is it? I think almost everyone has good in them. Sometimes it’s just buried and you have to look a little harder for it.

BetaTestAccount23: But you’re still moving on, right? This is me, your internet friend, holding you accountable.

FreshPrincessOfChelsea: Oh, yeah. Still moving on. And thanks. You’re a good internet friend, Mr. 23.

BetaTestAccount23: I have my moments.

FreshPrincessOfChelsea: Indeed you do. Anyway. Let’s talk about something happier.

FreshPrincessOfChelsea: What’s your absolute favorite memory?

BetaTestAccount23: Hmm. I need to think about it for a minute.

FreshPrincessOfChelsea: Take your time. I’m literally doing nothing but cleaning my apartment right now.

BetaTestAccount23: You party animal.

FreshPrincessOfChelsea: I know. I’m wild! But in truth,