Nemesis

by Chantal Fernando

  “What did she tell you?” he demands, eyes flashing with worry, and maybe even a little panic.

  Good.

  Let him panic.

  “You know, Dan told me to ask you about your women. I was going to, that night, but then I didn’t. Would you have told me the truth?” I ask, rushing the words out. I take a deep breath and continue. “I know you said we’re not exclusive, so you’re probably going to tell me that I can’t be mad, even though, when you said that, this is not what I was thinking. I didn’t think you’d have a fucking squad, and I sure as fuck didn’t think you’d be adding me to it. Jesus, Cohen!”

  He’s gone still next to me. Dropping his hand from my face, he says, “It’s not like that, Jacinta. At least it wasn’t with you.”

  “I’ll bet,” I say, shaking my head. “I can’t believe this. How stupid have I been? You failed to mention you have a squad of women on speed dial, just waiting for you to call on them, Cohen. You said we’re not exclusive, yes, but not that I was joining a fucking harem.”

  “Jacinta, I didn’t even s—”

  “You gave me the attention a boyfriend would give a girlfriend! How the fuck did you fit the other women in? It must be a fucking full-time job keeping so many women happy!” I yell, gritting my teeth together. “You gave me more attention than any of my ex-boyfriends did, yet we were nothing. Nothing. Do you know how much that fucks with my head?”

  “Baby,” he whispers, trying to hold me. “You need to listen to me, please. Just let me explain.”

  “So you can twist it around and manipulate me again? You always have the upper hand, Cohen, always one step ahead of me. You win. I don’t want to play anymore. I let you in…” I stop, wiping the tears that start to drip down my cheek of their own accord. “I let you in, Cohen. I never let people in, but you… I gave you a chance. I trusted you.”

  “Fucking hell, Jacinta, you’re breaking my heart. You need to calm down, take deep breaths. Everything Rebecca said isn’t the truth, okay?”

  “So you don’t have a fucking squad?”

  He goes silent.

  Answer enough.

  “Get out, Cohen.”

  He reaches out to me, but I turn away.

  He stands, then says, “I’ll be back tomorrow. There’s no point trying to talk to you when you’re like this.”

  He leaves.

  And I cry some more.

  *****

  I spend all of Sunday on the couch too, dreading tomorrow, when I’d have to see Cohen at work. I hear him knocking on the door around lunchtime, but I don’t open it; I just pretend that no one is home. He calls, I don’t pick up. He sends messages, I don’t read them. All I do is feel sorry for myself, binge-eat and sleep. I’ll just give myself today, but then tomorrow I need to be back in fine form. I need to walk into work with my head held high. I need to appear unaffected.

  But today? Today, I get to do whatever I want to try and stop the pain that a broken heart brings. I don’t understand Cohen. How could he act so loving and sweet towards me? Was it like that with everyone in his cabinet? Is he so broken that he can’t just spend time with one woman? Does he need backups? How does his mind work? He said he can explain, but I don’t see how. When he meant we weren’t exclusive, he wasn’t kidding, was he?

  I don’t know what to say. I don’t know how to react. I don’t know how to get over this shit.

  Why me?

  I’m destined to be alone forever.

  I should just start buying puppies now, so I can start being a crazy dog lady. How am I meant to trust another man after this? Although I won’t go to such drastic measures to protect myself as Cohen did. The sad thing is I never would have betrayed him. I would never hurt him, lie or cheat.

  I fucking love him.

  And that thought makes me cry even harder.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Today is day three of no Cohen, and I’m back at work. After crying pretty much all day yesterday, I feel much better—dead inside, but much better. I’m a strong, independent woman, and I can do this. I can be professional. Cohen Lake is dead to me, so RIP Cohen. May you join Dan and everyone else I dislike.

  When I see him, I avoid eye contact. Those white shirts I loved so much on him? They now annoy me. Those emerald green eyes? I never want to look into them again. And that dimple? I fucking hate dimples.

  He’s standing with Jason, so I know he can’t say anything to me.

  “Good morning,” I greet them, though only looking at Jason.

  “Morning, Jacinta,” he says, nodding towards me. “Did you bring me coffee?”

  “Nope.”

  He grins and heads to his office, while Cohen lingers.

  “Jacinta—”

  “Anything I can help you with, Mr. Lake?” I ask, my voice cold.

  “Fucking hell,” he mutters, taking a deep breath and looking down at his hands. “Everything you heard, it’s true. Or, at least, it was true. With you though, it was different. I didn’t message any other women, didn’t see any other women. All I saw was you, Jacinta.”

  I hand him a piece of paper. “Here is your schedule for the day. I’ll send your first client in when they arrive.”

  He looks directly at me, pain etched all over his handsome face. “Don’t do this, Jacinta. We need to talk, properly.”

  “I’ve heard enough,” I say quietly, needing to protect myself. I let this go too far, let my desire for Cohen override my better judgement, my common sense. Look at the type of man he is, the things he does, the way he lives. There’s no place for me in his life, in that life. I don’t want to always be wondering where he is, who he’s with, knowing that he’s used to having the affections of more than one woman.

  I’ll always be wondering if I’m enough, and I shouldn’t have to do that. I am enough, more than enough, and the right man will make me feel it.

  I am Jacinta Warren. I am far from perfect, but I know what I deserve, and that’s not being lied to, or being made to look like a fool.

  The elevators open and Cohen’s client walks in. With no other choice, he leaves the topic alone and escorts the gentleman into his office. He glances at me before he closes the door, his eyes pleading to hear him out, to understand.

  I look away first.

  When lunchtime rolls around, I leave the office first, heading to my usual lunch spot. I sit alone, like I always would. I order the same thing. I mentally prepare myself that this is now my life again.

  But at least I have my peace of mind.

  I hate that I miss him, I really do, and it’s only been a few days. But I focus on the type of man he is. I don’t believe in men changing, at least not for the better. How cynical does that sound? But I’ve found it to be true.

  I’d hoped I’d be his exception, but I never truly knew what I was up against. I thought he’d just had trust issues from what happened with his ex-girlfriend, not that he’d built his walls up so high that he’d constructed his own dating rules to ensure he didn’t get hurt again. Men must worship Cohen—multiple women, money and good looks. The man has everything. It’s kind of impressive, when you think about it. How does he talk these women into agreeing? I don’t like to share but, then again, who am I to talk? I blindly entered this agreement with him because I liked him so much, because he seemed to like me so much. Was I secretly hoping that he’d change his mind? That he’d want me to be his girlfriend? That he’d make a leap to commit to another woman again?

  Yes, yes, I was.

  I’m an idiot.

  *****

  “Mr. Lake, here is the folder you requested,” I say, speaking very formally. I slide the folder onto his desk and retreat.

  “Can you fucking stop calling me ‘Mr. Lake’?” he growls, face going a little red.

  “No,” I reply simply, then add, “Mr. Lake,” just to annoy him.

  He looks like he wants to strangle me.

  I blink slowly, watching him calmly. We have a silent conversation. He thinks I’m bein
g ridiculous, I think he’s an asshole. He reminds me of all the times we spent together, laughing, fucking and talking. I remind him about the time he lied to me. Yeah, remember that? Jerk.

  “You don’t know the full story.”

  “I know enough.”

  How things can change in just a few days.

  Cohen meant everything to me. And now?

  Now, he’s my nemesis.

  Two Weeks Later

  “Say something” by A Great Big World and Christina Aguilera plays on my way to work the next morning. I stare down at my red heels in the elevator, then lift my head as the doors open. I’m early, so I know that no one will be here yet. Coffee and a bag of lollies in my hands, I’m ready to handle the day. Cohen is the first to arrive; I’m messaging Sadie when he approaches.

  “You are the most stubborn, hard-headed woman I’ve ever met in my life,” I hear him growl in front of me.

  “Tell me more,” I deadpan, not bothering to lift my head.

  “Oh, now you’re going to let me talk?”

  He sounds pissed. Why is he so angry? Maybe the squad needs to up their game, keep him happier.

  I lift my head and look at him. Fuck, he’s so handsome. Even angry. “Look, Cohen. I don’t know what you want from me. You can’t seriously expect me to be okay with everything I’ve learned about you.”

  “All I asked from you was for you to hear me out, let me explain, but you can’t even give me that. It’s been two weeks, and all I’ve gotten from you is death threats, and I actually prefer those to when you’re ignoring me.”

  “I’ve never given you death threats!” I respond, my tone a little defensive.

  “You said that you hope I get run over by a car!” he growls, a muscle ticking in his jaw. “You’ve been nothing but a bitch, not letting me get one word in! You’re acting like I fucking cheated on you or something, when I didn’t!”

  “That was a hope, not a threat,” I say, smiling evilly. So I’ve said some things I’m not proud of, but hey, when I’m angry or hurt, sometimes I can’t help what comes out of my mouth.

  “Maybe you’re not who I thought you are,” he says, sounding disappointed, which really sets me on edge.

  He’s disappointed?

  That’s rich.

  “Don’t you dare turn this around on me,” I say, gritting me teeth together. “I told you no more secrets, Cohen. I told you I want to hear things from you, not from random people trying to hurt me by letting me know about the shit you’ve done. I’m sick of looking like a fucking idiot because you keep me in the dark. You think the fact that you have multiple women at your beck and call is not something you should tell me?”

  “I don’t have a fucking squad,” he whisper-yells, leaning closer to me. “You’d know this if you fucking listened to what I’m saying, instead of being stubborn! Maybe you shouldn’t listen to what others tell you!”

  “Oh, so there’s no truth to Rebecca’s accusations? You admitted it was true, so don’t bother giving me that bullshit!” I fire back at him. We shouldn’t be having this conversation at work, but then again, I didn’t exactly give him any other options.

  “What she told you was true. Was, not is…” he says, taking a deep breath. The elevators open and two people get out, so Cohen takes a step back, gives me a look that says ‘this isn’t over’ then walks away.

  But it is over, isn’t it?

  What did he mean it was true, but now isn’t? He had a squad but got rid of it?

  He’s now squadless?

  Well, good for him.

  I dig my fingers into my palm and count to ten in my head.

  Conflicting thoughts run through my mind. Am I being stupid by not hearing him out? Am I being stubborn and hard-headed, like he said? Probably. I am stubborn, I know, and it’s not one of my finest traits. I’ve also gone into self-protection mode—anything to keep me from not getting hurt any further. I guess it depends on what I want out of this. Do I want to listen and work something out, or is that door now closed forever?

  Is the Cohen era a hundred percent over for me?

  I shouldn’t have just shut him out like that, without hearing his side of the story.

  I should just talk to him.

  Fuck.

  Yeah, I should.

  Tomorrow.

  *****

  Three Days Later

  When I see Cohen first thing in the morning, I decide it’s time I stop being a bitch and just listen to what he has to say. I wanted to talk to him for a few days now, but put it off every time. I can hold a mean grudge, but I can’t keep ignoring him forever. I need to hear him out, and after that, I can decide what to do—it’s only fair. I should hear him out once and for all, and see how he thinks he can rectify this. However, when I see him, I can sense that something’s different. When he stops by my table, he doesn’t try to talk to me about anything. In fact, he’s brisk and straight to the point. His eyes no longer plead with mine, and his tone is no longer conciliatory.

  “Good morning. Can you reschedule my afternoon appointments today?” he asks, waiting for my reply, his expression blank. He gives me nothing—no emotion, no anything.

  “Sure,” I say, making a note on the Post-it in front of me. “Anything else?”

  “No, that’s it,” he replies, then goes inside his office.

  So, that’s it, huh?

  No more chasing, no more begging to give me explanations?

  I will not be upset by this. It’s what I wanted, right?

  Fuck.

  A few hours later, I’m typing away furiously on my laptop when a sultry voice interrupts me.

  “Excuse me, could you please tell Cohen that Sandra is here. He’s expecting me.”

  I lift my head in a flash.

  Standing in front of me is a stunning blonde. She has her hair pulled back in a high ponytail, and her hazel eyes are lined in kohl. She’s dressed fashionably, in skinny jeans and a beige blazer.

  She looks like a model.

  “Ummm, yeah, sure,” I say, picking up the phone and hitting the button for Cohen’s office.

  “Yes, Jacinta,” he answers, sounding distracted.

  “Sandra is here to see you,” I say, keeping my tone even.

  “Okay, tell her I’ll be out in a minute.”

  I stay silent.

  Who the hell is this woman?

  “Jacinta?”

  I hang up on him and look up at what is possibly my replacement. “He will be out in a minute.”

  “Thanks,” she replies, beaming at me.

  What is she so happy about?

  Bitch.

  She must be getting the D from Cohen. Why else would she be so happy?

  She takes a seat, and I sit there, silently fuming.

  How am I meant to react to this? Better yet, why am I panicking?

  Chapter Eighteen

  Cohen comes out of his office and, without so much as sparing me a glance, leaves with Sandra. I don’t want to admit how long my eyes stay on those elevator doors, but when he finally returns an hour later, alone, I quickly avert my gaze.

  He comes over to me and says, “Jason’s gone home because he’s not feeling well. He said to ask you to cancel his two meetings.”

  “Okay,” I reply, my jaw tight.

  Cohen pauses and leans on my desk. “What’s wrong?”

  “Why would something be wrong?” I ask, glancing up at him, making sure my expression stays blank.

  “I don’t know,” he says, studying me. “You tell me.”

  “Everything is fine,” I snap, regretting it instantly. I exhale and pick up the phone. “I better call Jason’s clients, if you will excuse me.”

  I glance up into those green eyes, and… Is that amusement flashing there? I put the phone back down and narrow my eyes. “What is so funny?”

  “Nothing,” he says, shrugging those broad shoulders of his. “Just you. You’re cute when you’re all annoyed and shit.”

  I blink. “Okay, g
oodbye now.”

  He waves, smiling widely, and disappears into his office.

  What just happened? He thinks I’m cute because I’m annoyed that a beautiful woman just came here to see him? A woman he’s possibly fucking? Cute?!

  Fucking Scorpios.

  I call Jason’s clients and then return to brooding about Cohen and his mysterious lady friend. If he is fucking her, and he brought her here knowing that I’d see her, he really is an asshole. I scrub my hand down my face, wondering what my next move should be. Should I call him out on it? Truthfully, I’m dying for the confrontation, but that might not be the best way to go. Cohen is a master at games, and he’s probably anticipating that from me. Hell, he probably did it just to get a rise out of me. How did he bring me down to his level? Because right now, all I want to do is beat him at his own game.

  I tap my French-tipped fingernails on my desk, feeling agitated and off-kilter. What if this isn’t a game to him though? What if he decided I wasn’t worth the effort because I wouldn’t hear him out? I guess I could’ve at least listened to him, but at that point I didn’t want to give him a chance to work his way in, to get close enough to hurt me again. My walls are up right now… and maybe they’re too high for him to climb.

  What I need to remember is that he’s broken too.

  Maybe the broken don’t want to fight. Maybe they want to be fought for.

  No. It has to be him playing games. The Cohen I know wouldn’t give up so easily, at least without having his say.

  He always likes to have the upper hand, the control.

  And now he has it, because I’m left here wondering who that woman is, and what they were up to.

  But not for long.

  *****

  “What are you doing?” Cohen asks, sounding suspicious as I step into his office the next morning. All last night, I wondered to myself why the fuck I suddenly wasn’t so angry at him. I was more concerned with him having gotten over me. I’m not over him, so how is that fair? I was just ready to hear him out, to listen to what he has to say, and he’s flipped the switch on me, pretending like he doesn’t care anymore. I don’t know how to react to this. All I know is that I am reacting.