Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 60497 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 302(@200wpm)___ 242(@250wpm)___ 202(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60497 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 302(@200wpm)___ 242(@250wpm)___ 202(@300wpm)
When I said no, he turned nasty, grabbing my wrist and calling me a spoiled brat who didn’t know how good she had it. A stranger stopped and asked if I was okay. That shook Adam up, and he immediately pulled the I’m contrite act, but I didn’t buy it then, nor do I every other time he surfaces, always in between girlfriends. Needless to say, meeting with him, even for an important job, doesn’t sit well with me.
“Why don’t you ask Kaylee to go in your place?” Mom suggests.
I sigh. “Adam made it clear if I want him to consider the exhibit, I need to be the one who comes to discuss it.”
My mother’s eyes narrow. “Then take her with you.”
“I plan to.”
Mom lets out a long breath. “You already know this, but I grew up with an abusive father. It’s the reason we created the safe haven project.”
My parents helped set up Haven for Help, a nonprofit that gives women a place to land when running from an abusive significant other. Or anyone, for that matter. They offer counseling, as well as being a shelter for women who need to hide and then relocate.
I nod because all my siblings are aware, and I’ve volunteered there many times.
“Suffice to say, I know the signs,” my mom says. “The red flags. And that’s not something I ever want for my daughter. And if your father knew you were meeting with Adam—”
“He can’t find out,” I tell her, panicking. If my dad found out, he’d storm the museum, and I’m afraid of what he’d do to Adam. “I’ll be fine and I’ll call you when it’s over. Besides, we’re meeting in a public place.” Sort of.
I have no desire to meet with Adam alone and the restaurant he chose is known for leisurely dining, even during lunch hour. It’s where people take clients they want to schmooze and impress with large booths and lots of privacy. None of which Mom needs to know.
“Okay.” She frowns. “But I don’t have to like it.”
I let out a sigh of relief. “If it makes you feel any better, I don’t like it either. But the exhibit will be worth an hour of my time with the jerk.” Not wanting to think about the meeting anymore, I smile at my mother. “How about we eat dinner?” I ask, changing the subject.
I don’t want to talk about my ex any more than I want to think about Lucas, and he’s been on my mind nonstop despite the conversation about Adam.
* * *
The next morning, Kaylee calls in sick with a stomach virus.
Now, I’m sitting at my desk, drumming my pencil on the counter, trying to figure out how I’m going to handle lunch with Adam, when I make my decision. I pick up my phone and dial the museum. I’m not willing to use Adam’s cell phone number. Heaven forbid the man and his huge ego think it’s for personal reasons.
The main desk answers, and I ask to be put through to Adam Roberts. The phone rings twice and I hear his familiar voice. “Hello?”
“Adam, it’s Rainey. Kaylee can’t make it to our lunch today. I’m going to come by the museum instead.” I don’t want to share a meal with him and send the wrong message. It’s a running theme when dealing with the man. Making sure I’m clear about where we stand at all times.
“Rainey,” he says in a cajoling voice that makes my skin crawl. “That wasn’t what we agreed to. You said you’d go on a lunch date with me.”
This man and his gaslighting, I think to myself, shaking my head at his behavior. “I said no such thing. I agreed to a business lunch and now I have changed my mind. It’s my prerogative,” I remind him. “I want to discuss a temporary Miami Thunder exhibit for their 50th anniversary season. There’s no reason to go for lunch in order to do that.”
Silence, then, “What’s really wrong? Are you too good to be seen with me?” he asks, a nasty tone to his voice.
I have no doubt if we were in the same room, he’d be in my space attempting to intimidate me. But I’m in my own office and I’m safe.
I pinch the bridge of my nose, debating how far to take this and decide, screw it. I’m not going to let him have the upper hand. “I’ll tell you what, Adam. I can call your director and explain how his head curator won’t discuss a huge opportunity for the museum and is completely unprofessional or we can have the conversation right now, over the phone.”
“You are such a spoiled bitch. You always think you’re better than everyone else. That if you snap your fingers, I’ll do what you say,” he says in the angry tone I only began to hear at the end of our relationship when I wouldn’t go along with his demands.