Daniella

“Asshole,” I muttered under my breath as I went down the stairs from his office. Unfortunately, I wasn’t looking where I was walking and knocked right into a handsome man coming up.

“Whoa, there. Sorry. You okay?” The tall man with light brown hair and an easy smile steadied me.

“Yeah. Sorry. I wasn’t watching where I was going. Excuse me.” I attempted to move past him, but he stepped in front of me.

“It’s okay. So who’s the asshole?” His gaze, filled with humor, flicked up the stairs.

“Judging by the look on your face, you already know. Sorry, I really must be leaving.”

His grin widened. “You’re the one they caught taking pictures, aren’t you?”

My face heated. “I, uh—yeah. And I really need to go.” I started to feel uncomfortable. This was a sex club, and I had no idea what this guy was thinking by not allowing me to pass.

As if reading my mind, he said, “Relax. I’m one of the owners. The name is Max. And I take it you met the other half?”

I let out a breath. “Yes. And everything is set now. He has the camera.”

“You sure it’s set? You look a little pissed.”

“Considering Mr. Nelson is your partner, I don’t think you’re surprised he has that effect on people. Now, then, I have a hotel room to find.”

“Won’t be easy three days before Christmas.”

It irked me that everyone seemed to think of this but me. “So I’ve heard. Good night, Max.”

He stepped aside. “Good night, uh—”

“Daniella.” I provided my real name before I could think about it. Oh, well. Wasn’t like I was coming back here anyhow.

“Good night, Daniella.”

***

Waking up the next morning in my hotel bed, I tried to tell myself today was just another day. So what if it was Christmas Eve tomorrow and most people were traveling to be with their families? So what if I’d had to drive back over to Jersey City in order to find a room for the night? So what if everything I owned was either in my car or in the small storage unit I’d rented until I could get my money back and find a new place?

It was tempting to call in sick to work today, but with nothing but a pity party in front of me, I decided not to. I might not emphatically enjoy my job—come on, it was taxes; how much fun could that possibly be?—it wasn’t like me to shirk my responsibility, either. Especially with my savings gone and the need to get another apartment soon. Although it wasn’t busy yet for tax season, most of it picking up after the end of the year, I had a few cleanup tasks which could keep me busy.

Too bad my parents had already left on their Caribbean cruise. I’d had no interest in going with them initially, happy to have the excuse to stay home because Eric was working. But now the thought of spending the holiday alone seemed even worse than spending it with my difficult parents. Of course, if my mother found out about the breakup, I would’ve been jumping overboard to get away from her disappointment. When she did find out there would be no wedding to plan, she was going to be devastated.

She would be the only one. As I took stock of my feelings after rolling out of bed, I realized I wasn’t.

Instead I felt a tremendous relief. So then, why hadn’t I ended things sooner? The question stuck with me while I was in the shower and through a big room-service breakfast. Unfortunately, I didn’t like the answer. I’d been going through the motions, checking off the boxes in life, instead of being in love with him.

When my cell phone on the desk rang, I shoved the thoughts to the side. It was Eric. And I knew I had to get this over with sooner or later.

“Hello.”

“It’s about damn time. I’ve been calling you all night.”

I had absolutely no patience for him. “What do you want?”

“Where are you?”

“None of your business.”

“Come on, Daniella. This isn’t you. Be reasonable. We can work things out.”

“Seriously? Because I think after finding out you stole money from me, are bisexual and cheating on me, and then had the audacity to call me a frigid cunt last night, that reconciling is the last thing on my mind.”

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t myself. And Shane putting his hands on you. What the hell was that about?”

It was reckless, freeing, and completely without regret. “It was about finding one more reason never to see you again. In two minutes he gave me what you’ve never been able to. Now listen up. You owe me seventy-five thousand dollars. I want it, or I go to the authorities and things get messy.”

“That’s blackmail.”

“No, that’s giving you a chance before you lose your job over me filing embezzlement charges. Blackmail would be if I threatened to show those pictures of you taking it up the ass by the blond-haired fellow to everyone we know, including your boss.”

My implication held heavy on the line until he finally spoke.

“I— Shit. Okay. I can only get you half right now. But I promise the other half will be coming.”

“You have two days to wire half and two weeks to come up with the rest.”

“Then will you return the ring? It belonged to my grandmother.”

A reminder to get him to sign a receipt of return because he’d probably hock it and then tell his mother I kept it. “Of course. I want to hold onto it about as much as I want to hold onto our relationship. And if I get tested and find out I have something, the gloves are completely off. I hope you realize that.”

“I’m clean. I swear. I always used condoms. And since we used condoms, too, we should be good.”

“Hope so. Two days, and I want half the money. I’ll text you the account information.”

“I have it already, don’t I?”

I laughed without humor. “As if I wouldn’t have changed my bank accounts after learning you stole from me. Goodbye, Eric.”

I sat there humming with adrenaline but still no tears. Two years gone with that man, and I was more pissed at being duped than upset at losing him.