“Did you know?”

I’m so angry I can barely think. Before this job, I always thought I was pretty mellow. I didn’t lose my temper often, if ever. I never yelled at people, I never cursed, I was always nice.

Now, though, I’m a raging ball of anger. That’s all I can feel anymore. I’m angry at Aaron for being such a narcissistic asshole, I’m angry at him for getting me pregnant, I’m angry at myself for believing his bullshit, and I’m totally livid with this company for taking my designs and fucking destroying them.

“What’s going on?” he says. “Honestly, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

I storm over to the chairs in front of his desk and force myself to sit. I’m afraid that if I don’t, I’m going to start grabbing binders and papers and throwing it all around the room.

“I logged into the server this morning and went to check on the designs,” I say. “It’s a shared folder with all the production notes and blueprints. When we left for our trip, it was all based on my design or as close as possible. Now though, it’s all completely different. They didn’t keep anything. Not a single fucking innovation.”

He sits down behind his desk again and I watch his face closely. On my way over here, I was convinced that he knew about this. I was convinced that he orchestrated this whole trip just to get me out of the office so that they could make these changes behind my back. I was ready to yell and scream and rake my claws down his eyes, but watching his face fall and his eyes go hollow, I realize that I might have been wrong.

He didn’t know anything about this. He’s just as blindsided as I am.

“They used me,” he says softly. “That fucking cunt.”

“They went behind my back, Aaron,” I say to him, leaning over the desk, hands spread flat on the top. “They ruined all my work. Now they’re moving forward with these awful knockoffs that are nothing like what I created.”

“Mitchell knew,” he says immediately, horrified expression meeting mine. “That’s why he approved all of this. He knew they’d be changing your designs, so it didn’t matter if he gave you a percentage or not.”

I watch as his palms slide against the thighs of his pants absently, his eyes blinking rapidly. Slowly though, his abject horror slips away as he takes deep breaths and grips the edge of his deck. He pushes himself back and stands, turning to the window.

“Why were you excited when I came in?” I ask him softly.

“We made some sales,” he says, looking back over his shoulder. “Six and counting.”

I nod slowly. It’s hard to feel excited about that considering this news. “It won’t matter,” I say flatly.

“No, it won’t.” He turns back to me, crossing his arms and leaning up against the filing cabinet behind his desk. I can see the muscles bulging under his crisp dress shirt and the anger in the corners of his eyes. He’s a salesman, and his makes his living by being kind and convincing, but I’m starting to see something else in him too.

It’s a bull, itching be released.

“They used us,” he says softly.

I nod, meeting his gaze. I feel just as angry as he does, but I’m starting to see something important about myself, something that I’m not proud of. My first instincts lately have been to turn to anger, but that’s not helping me, not at all. My anger’s clouding my vision, making me say and do rash and stupid things. I’m like a Jedi and anger leads to the dark side. I have to let it go, calm myself, figure this situation out before I get myself buried even deeper.

“How much did they change?” he asks.

“Almost all of it. They kept some minor tweaks I made to the panel efficiency but they scrapped all the storage stuff. Basically, they stole some of my novel designs and chucked the rest.”

He grunts, looking away, face screwed up. He looks like a pilot calculating a difficult landing, and I’m the freaking plane he’s about to crash into the runway. My hand strays to my belly almost absently, and it startles me when I realize what I’m doing. I pull it away, but I know he noticed.

“We can’t let them fuck us,” he says softly.

“Us?” I echo. “You have nothing to do with it. It’s my design they’re ripping off and ruining.”

“They used me,” he says, nostrils flaring. “Nobody fucking uses me like that.”

I take a breath, surprised again at how strong he is. “I didn’t think you cared.”

“I care.” He sits back down again, slowly this time. “I care a lot.” He takes another breath, lets it out, like a yoga master. “I’ll talk to him.”

“What’ll that do?”

“I’ll talk to him,” he repeats. “It’s what I do, okay? I talk to people.”

“Talk isn’t enough sometimes. Talk didn’t get us anywhere.”

“I’ll talk to him.” He crosses his arms, head cocked slightly. “Is there anything else, Miss Hollins?”

I snort at him. “Yeah, okay, cool.” I get up and turn to the door. “You go talk to Mitchell. Meanwhile, I’ll be burning this place to the ground.”

He winces. “Don’t do that. Just keep it under control for now, okay?”

“Why?” I ask him.

“Just trust me.”

I laugh a little bit, feeling the absurdity of this situation. “Trust you? Aaron, you got me pregnant, you took me on some wild business trip, and at the end of the day, this company’s fucking me. I’m supposed to trust you?”

“Yes,” he says softly. “I’m the only person here that gives a shit about what happens to you.”

I watch him for a second and I know it’s true. That kiss after the last meeting comes back to me, stupid and meaningless but good. I can still feel the wind along my skin and the heat of the smooth car under my fingertips.

“Fine,” I say, and I leave his office without another word, too afraid I’ll ruin it with anger or worse.