Ritual - Palm South University

“Took… took care of it?”

“Sophie came into my office earlier this week and showed me the video,” he says, turning to look me in the eyes when he nails me with those words. “She knew what she was doing. She wanted to blackmail you, to blackmail me. She said it was sexual harassment and that I had until the end of the week to fire you and hire her, or she’d blast it to every news station in the city.”

I stand, picking up the nearest pillow and chucking it across the room. “That little bitch!”

Brandon just holds up his hands, closing his eyes and forcing a breath like I’m a petulant little child he’s highly annoyed with. “Like I said, it’s handled.”

“How?”

“Well, lucky for you, we record every call our interns make. I had MyKayla scrub all her calls to see if she could find something, and though Sophie might be cunning, she’s also conceited. And she told her entire plan to one of her friends on her work cell.”

I smirk. “Stupid cunt.”

Brandon watches me for a long moment, like he can’t believe me, like he doesn’t know who it is standing in his living room at all.

“So, she has nothing,” I say.

“She has nothing,” he echoes. “I played the call for her and told her if she left quietly, I’d write her a letter of recommendation.”

“What?” I shake my head, crossing the room to where he is. “Why would you do that?”

“To save your ass!”

My head snaps back at his words, but he’s already turned away from me, scrubbing his hand over his face with his eyes focused somewhere on the water.

I sigh, closing my eyes. I knew this was going to suck, and I was right. Still, relief washes through me that Brandon handled it.

I don’t know why I’m surprised, why I ever thought he wouldn’t.

We’re a team, just like Skyler said.

Wrapping my arms around his waist, I rest my cheek on his back, holding him to me. “I’m so sorry this happened. Thank you for handling it.”

It’s quiet after that but for the crackling of the fire, and I take what feels like my first breath in ages.

“Well, now that that’s over with,” I say, rounding until I’m standing between him and the window. I thread my arms around his neck, kissing his chin. “Are you ready for your first sorority event tomorrow?” I chuckle. “The girls are going to lose their shit when you show up to semi-formal.”

Brandon’s jaw ticks, but otherwise there’s no response, and my stomach drops with the silence.

“What’s wrong?”

“I think we should take a break.”

My heart stops. “A… a break?”

Brandon closes his eyes, grabbing my hands where they rest behind his neck and peeling them off of him. “Ashlei,” he says when his eyes open again. “Consider this your two-week notice to Okay, Cool.”

Again, I find myself blinking repeatedly, as if I can erase what he just said with my lashes. “You’re firing me?”

“No. You’re resigning. Because you have opportunities elsewhere,” he says, looking away from me. He crosses back to the coffee table and picks up what’s left of his scotch. “That’s the story we’re telling. And if you go with it, I’ll give you a letter of recommendation to take with you, too.”

“A letter of rec—” I nearly vomit, my desperation propelling me forward until I’m in front of Brandon again, my hands around his bicep, urging him to look at me. “Brandon. I don’t want a fucking letter of recommendation. I want you.” Panic sears through me. “I want us.”

He closes his eyes, and I see the emotion strangling him just as it is me.

“I love you,” I whisper.

Brandon grits his teeth at my words, looking up at the ceiling, but I grab his chin and force him to look me in the eyes.

“She kissed me.”

“Yes. She did,” he agrees. “But you’re lying to both of us if you say you didn’t kiss her back.”

I shake my head, tears flooding my eyes in an instant and spilling out over my cheeks before I can even think to stop them. The panic I felt before is a full-on storm now, swirling in my chest, crackling like lightning in my heart, the thunder so loud in my ears I can’t hear his words through it.

“It was a mistake,” I cry, holding onto him tighter. “I love you.”

Tears gloss his eyes, but he rips away from me before they fall, leaving me standing in the middle of his living room as he storms across the marble back to his bedroom. “You should leave.”

“Brandon,” I plead.

And then, in one swift moment, he launches his glass across the room.

It hits the corner of the kitchen island and shatters, making me scream and jump back, covering my mouth with eyes as big as saucers.

“GET. OUT.” His chest is heaving when his gaze finds me. “NOW!”