Page 69 of Third Time’s a Charm

“You know, Tate, you’ve surprised me. I always knew you were a vindictive bastard, but you’ve outdone yourself today. She’s not flighty. She’s brilliant. And passionate. And loyal. Traits you could use a dose of yourself, although I doubt you’d know what to do with them.”

“Be careful, Jasper,” he warns, expecting me to fall in line with his frightful behaviour.

“I’m done being careful, Tate.” I hold up a middle finger. “You can consider this my resignation.”

And I storm out of the office, slamming the door behind me so hard it bounces open again, and march down the corridor to Louise’s office, hoping against hope she’ll hear me out.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Louise

My instinct is to head straight for the lifts and get as far away from here as fast as I can, but my handbag is in my office. My laptop is on my desk. The desk I will probably never sit at again.

I’m shaking so badly that I stumble in these stupid heels and twist my ankle, hobbling the last few steps into my cubby-hole.

Betrayal pounds through my veins, my heartbeat loud in my ears.

The company betrayal I can deal with. I knew things weren’t great. They’re just making a financially responsible business decision. Even if the way they’ve gone about it shows a stunning lack of integrity. Which tracks, given what I know about John Mackelden.

The betrayal that I can’t deal with is Jasper’s.

We made no promises. No feelings were expressed. But never in a million years would I have expected him to betray my trust the way he has.

I asked him outright how long we had, what he thought of my plan, and he lied to my face. And then had the effrontery to ask about John Mackelden’s behaviour—as if his is any better—and sympathise with me about my mother. The utter, utter bastard.

I trusted him. Let him in in ways I’ve never done with anyone else. And the whole time he knew he was going to shit on me from a great height.

With a low growl, I put my hands on the desk beside my laptop and drop my head. My stomach is turning so violently, I’m not sure I won’t be sick.

I want to rage. To cry. To scream. But I won’t give Tate Brown, John Mackelden and Jasper Spencer-Fucking-Jones the satisfaction of hearing my heartbreak.

“Louise …” Jasper’s whisper is desperate, broken. For a handful of heartbeats, I don’t trust myself to move or to reply. When I finally turn, he’s only inches away.

“I trusted you. I let you …” I choke to a stop, unable to get the words out.

“I know. I never wanted you to find out like this. I was going to—”

I can’t listen to him finish that thought.

My hand rises, swings back, and I deliver a cracking slap to his left cheek.

He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t move.

“I deserved that. I’m so sorry. But I can explain …”

“But? But? Any apology that comes with a but is just an excuse, Jasper. And frankly, whatever that excuse is, I don’t want to hear it. Because there’s no excusing what you’ve done.”

“I couldn’t tell you …”

“Couldn’t tell me?” I hiss. “You betrayed me. And not just me. How could you do this to Phil and Marty and Grahame? They welcomed you. They …” My throat closes. I can’t choke out another word without wailing, and I will not give him the power.

I scoop up my bag and push past him. I don’t look back, and he doesn’t follow.

The lift is mercifully fast, and Jodie isn’t at her desk, thank the universe. The last thing I need is for her to see me like this. It would be all over the office in a second. It’s a miracle I didn’t run into anyone on my way from Jasper’s office to mine.

Once the lift doors close, I shake out my hand. My palm is still stinging. I’ve never slapped anyone in my life. I hope I never have to again. I expected it to feel more … I don’t know. Liberating? Satisfying?

All I feel is heartbroken.