I marched to the door with balled fists at my sides. If this was another hotel staff member whining in my ear that this was a no-smoking room, I was going to make them bleed. I swung the door open, ready to bark at the person in front of me. Then I froze.

“Welcome to California, motherfucker.” Dean pushed me back into the room and walked in like he owned the place.

Dean was slightly taller, slightly bigger, slightly handsomer than me. His light brown hair was cut short and preppy these days, and his style was a little more elegant than mine. He loved full suits in eccentric colors, just like the Joker. He also loved pissing me off, just like everyone else in my life.

“Hey, Georgie. What’s up?” He winked at her.

“I was just leaving.” Georgia collected her purse from the round table where I’d sat just moments ago and shouldered past us, making a beeline for the door.

I watched her bony, annoying ass disappear into the hallway and closed the door behind her.

Dean was inside, making himself comfortable, pouring himself a glass of something alcoholic from the mini bar and whistling with a smile on his face. “I’d ask you if you want something, but I’m afraid you’ll think I care.”

I pressed my shoulder to the wall and watched him, my hands tucked in my pockets, waiting for him to get to the point. “That’s it? Not even ‘sorry that your dad passed away’?” I mocked.

Dean turned to face me, tossed back a full glass of whiskey, then pointed it at me. “You’re forgetting you had endless meetings with my dad at his office. You think I didn’t do the math? I know the drill, Vic. You hate your father. You hate Josephine. You hate the whole world. Came here for the money and the estate, didn’t you?”

Wrong, asshole. I came here for revenge.

Dean refilled his empty glass. “Where’s our little friend, Millie LeBlanc?”

“Where she belongs. In New York at the penthouse. In my bed,” I lied. “Well, technically your bed.” I tucked the half-smoked blunt between my lips and lit it casually. “Don’t worry, though. I’ll reimburse you for the mattress and frame, which we broke, by the way.”

He didn’t look surprised. Why would he be? He knew I wanted her. Wanted her body. Wanted her virginity. Wanted it all. He took it from me, and it was a dick move. That was common knowledge. Trent and Jaime still gave him shit about it when we got drunk. And let’s not forget that if Dean and Emilia were truly meant to be together, Emilia wouldn’t have been so fast to pull the breakup trigger every time I blinked her way.

Truth was she didn’t want him. She wanted me.

“She was mine,” Dean said gruffly, downing his second glass of whiskey.

Jesus. I threw my head back and laughed. There was no way he actually believed that, right? “Come on. Don’t lie to yourself.”

Dean slid his eyes over my face, contemplating his next move. He wanted to get to me. To hurt me without punching my face and making a mess. I didn’t say a word. Didn’t move. On some level, I did deserve to be punched in the face for this. Just like he deserved it when we were in high school. It was my time to take a hit for my betrayal.

Finally, he opened his mouth, a sly smile playing on his face. “Does she know you’re a heartless bastard?”

I shrugged. “She went to school with me for a year.”

He downed a third glass, and I hoped he wasn’t going to pass the fuck out on the carpet. I actually wanted to keep my relationship with his father intact.

“Did she ask about me?”

“No. Why would she? Did you ever try to find her?”

“She told me not to.” Dean’s eyebrows collapsed into a frown.

“Yeah, well, thanks for keeping her entertained until I came along,” I said, waving him off.

I just wanted the conversation to be over with. He was going to beat me up, obviously. And I was going to take it, because I deserved it. We were just wasting time. But Dean didn’t make a move toward me. Not yet. Just when I thought he was going to pass out on the bed, he turned around again and chuckled.

“Wait, do I not get a ‘thank you’ for breaking her in for you?”

Fuck it. He was asking for it.

I was the first to swing a fist at him. I slammed my knuckles into his nose, and this time I hoped his doctor wouldn’t be able to fix his pretty face. He grabbed me by my shirt and flung me across the room. I flew backward, crashing into the TV mounted on the wall. Dean tackled me, planting his shoulder in my stomach, pressing against me until I heard the screen crack behind us. I groaned and threw a jab to his jaw, but held myself back from doing more.

I fucking deserved it.

And I knew it was going to hurt.

He poured punches to my face, and I took them all. Then he hurled me on the floor and hammered my ribs with his pointy shoe. Again, he was no Daryl. He was a friend, and I’d fucked up. I’d certainly given him a piece of my mind and my fist when he was the one chasing Emilia.

Writhing on the carpeted floor with him, I bit my lip to stop a moan of pain. Everything throbbed. But hey, I had this shit coming.

“You really fucked my ex-girlfriend?” he roared from on top of me, his voice laced with fury and disbelief.

It was easier to forgive an enemy than to forgive a friend. I knew that all too well.

He was hurt. So was I when I’d found out they’d started dating.

Truth was, he was a dick for going out with her then, and I was a dick for doing her now. But she wasn’t his obsession. His vice. His fucking Achilles heel.

“I did. If I were you, I’d squeeze in a few more punches before you go because I’m not going to stop fucking her. I’m going to own her.”

He kicked me again, and I managed not to curl into myself. I knew it was the last time because he was bleeding from his nose and needed to stop the stream and reposition it before it got swollen. Scarlet blood dotted the beige carpet, and I knew I was going to have to pay for this crap.

“Get up,” he ordered.

I braced myself on the edge of the bed, scrambling to my feet.

Dean smiled, smoothing his bloodied shirt. “You look good,” he remarked.

I knew I probably had two black eyes and a cracked rib. I nodded. “So do you. Fucking terrific. Anything else?”

“Yeah, actually.” He leaned against the desk where my laptop sat and gave me the same victorious expression I’d mastered over the years. “I’m interested to know, how the hell do you think this is going to play out? Your next stop is Los Angeles, and I’m moving back to New York. But hey, man, don’t worry. I’ll take care of her in my office.” He thumped his chest and winked.

My body shook with rage, but I reminded myself that he was just taunting me for being an asshole to him. Still, this had to stop. “Just get the fuck out before I do something that will cost us millions and years of meetings in stuffy courtrooms. Go.”

He didn’t budge. He didn’t look amused anymore either. I sucked in a breath.

“Fire her, Vicious. I don’t want her in my branch, and I don’t want her in yours either. This girl fucked off with another guy when we were kids and didn’t even bother to return my calls.”

No she didn’t. She left because I made her leave.

“Not happening,” I said, even though I had no idea what to do. She wasn’t coming to Los Angeles, that much was clear, and Dean would never let her continue working at the office in New York. I didn’t know how I was going to keep her. I just knew I fucking had to.

“Yes, it is,” Dean responded calmly, his nose still bleeding all over the carpet. Goddammit. “The girl screwed me over.”

“She didn’t,” I finally roared. I threw my arms in the air, using what little control I still had in me not to go at him again. I spotted my lit blunt burning a hole in the bloody carpet behind Dean. He noticed where my eyes landed and crushed it with his designer Monk Straps.

“She didn’t screw your life over. I did,” I repeated less heatedly. “I sent her off with twenty thousand dollars. In exchange, she promised she’d tell you she ran away with someone else, specifically stressing that she didn’t want to hear from you ever again.”

“Why would she listen to you?” He crossed his arms over his chest, skeptical, his brows arched.

“Because I threatened her. I told her I’d fire her parents. Her sister Rosie is constantly on meds. They needed the money.”

Silence fell between us, heavy and loud.

“You’re such a sick psycho,” he mumbled.

I said nothing because it was an observation, not a question.

“It doesn’t change shit, though, Vicious.” Dean finally moved to the door, and when we stood side by side, me squeezing the handle and him on the threshold, our eyes met. “You’re saying goodbye to Millie and firing her, or I’ll make sure you’re kicked off the board. Good night.”

ROSIE GOT BACK FROM TODOS Santos on Monday morning, all smiles and stories about Mama’s new sewing machine and Daddy’s weird fascination with Toddlers and Tiaras. I had to admit, Little Rose had never looked better.

I smiled through my heartache and tried to look like someone who was not losing her mind over a man who’d specifically and repeatedly told her that he was only looking for casual sex.