“Olivia was a pastry chef,” Royce said, interjecting himself because he couldn’t help it, but also probably because he was afraid of what Liv would say. Good. She wanted him afraid and nervous.
“What’s a pastry chef?” the woman asked.
“Mostly I made desserts. My specialty was the Sultan.”
That earned a round of oohs and aahs because everyone had heard about the Sultan.
“I’ve always wanted to try that,” a man said. “Not sure I can afford it, though.”
The man laughed nervously then with a glance at Royce, as if afraid he’d insulted him.
Liv waved her hand. “Don’t worry. It’s just a cupcake. The ingredients actually only cost about two hundred dollars.”
Royce’s face went stony and dark. He recovered quickly with a laugh. “You’re sharing state secrets, Olivia.”
The group joined him in a kind of relieved laugh, as if they knew he was simmering.
She briefly pictured Mack in the truck, listening in. It gave her courage to plow forward.
“Royce, I was hoping to steal you away for a moment. May I?” She gestured toward the dance floor.
The woman at his side shot him a wounded look, as if she’d been promised a dance. But Royce was a shark after a meal, and he wasn’t going to miss this chance to take a bite out of Liv’s torso. Little did he know she was the one who smelled blood in the water. He was wounded and didn’t even know it.
He forced another smile, this one sinister. “Of course. I’d love to.”
The crowd parted to let him pass as if he were a goddamned king. Their heavy stares weighed on her back as she led him to the dance floor. The band had just started a slow song, and other couples were quickly joining them.
Liv’s skin crawled when Royce placed his hand on her lower back and drew their bodies together. She was going to need an hour-long shower to get clean after this. He smelled like champagne and cologne, a cloying combination that would forever ruin both for her.
Royce gripped her hand more tightly than was necessary, and when he spoke, his voice was a cold, menacing whisper. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Networking. I’m still looking for a job, unfortunately.”
Royce’s eyes darted around the room as if he was afraid just to be seen with her. She really liked him like this—scared.
“I even applied here,” she continued conversationally. “The Parkway was looking for a pastry chef, and I got as far as an interview request, but then poof. They canceled on me for no reason. Don’t suppose you know anything about that?”
He clenched his jaw. “It’s a tough market.”
“Especially when someone is spreading rumors to ruin you.”
The fingers on her waist pressed into her flesh. “I warned you.”
“Indeed you did.”
He met her eyes—his were cold, dark, hard. “If you’re looking to apologize, it’s too late. You had your chance.”
“I actually think of this as your chance.” Sweat trickled down her back, and she prayed he couldn’t feel the dampness through the thin material of her dress.
“Don’t even think about threatening me, Olivia. You are way out of your league.”
She let out a practiced sigh. “You’re right about that. I can’t compete with you. You have every former employee from here to the ends of the Earth terrified to say a single bad thing about you.”
“You should’ve come to that realization a lot sooner.”
“How about just a truce instead?”
A single overly groomed eyebrow arched as he gazed down at her. “A truce implies we both give up something and get something in return. We’re beyond that.”
“I only want two small things from you.”
“I’m not giving you shit.”
She kept going before her body gave in to the urge to tremble. “First, I want you to promise to give Jessica a good recommendation.”
A muscle clenched along his jaw. “And second?”
“That you stop trying to ruin me in the industry. I don’t need a good recommendation from you. Just stop sabotaging my job interviews.”
A look of genuine surprise crossed his face before he covered it with a sarcastic sneer. “I told you. I don’t give second chances.”
“Are you sure you want to take that risk? I mean, I could just sue you, and then we’d get into things like disclosure, and, God, that would be so messy, and—”
He gave up all pretense of politeness for the sake of appearance. He yanked her hard against his body and glared. “Try it. I will fucking bury you. I