“You know,” I say as I grab my purse and slide on my Gucci shades, ignoring the commotion of googly-eyed stares and growing whispers from women around us, “It was really good to reconnect after so long, Colin. And we tried to make it work. It didn’t. Thanks for everything.”

My words are clipped and to the point.

If he’s going to break off our engagement like this, I see no reason to drag it out with some long ass monologue that’ll amount to nothing in the end, anyway.

Finished, I begin to rise from my chair, but Colin grabs my arm, holding me in place, his jaw slack in surprise.

One of the women watching suddenly decides that’s her cue and claps her hands sharply, interrupting our scene with one of her own. “Boy, you’d best let that girl’s arm go. You had your moment, and a queen like that is better off without a twat-stain like you.”

Several people gasp at her language and volume, but Archie has me corrupted to not even blink at that level of crudeness. Thankful for the support, I look over to her and offer a weak smile of appreciation. For his part, Colin scowls but loosens his grip. Still, he’s not done.

“Wait a minute now, Vi. You’re not even going to try to talk about this? After all we’ve been through?” His voice has an almost whine to it, confirming what I expected.

He wanted me to break down and beg him not to leave me.

In front of a fucking audience.

Like he’s some golden goose prize that I would debase myself to possess.

Well, he can kick rocks.

I won’t give him the satisfaction of a show.

I shrug nonchalantly. “Nope.”

“Look, Vi, I know how much our getting married means to you. I get it, you’re pissed and upset. I would be too, but can we please not end things on bad terms? You don’t have to act this way—”

“We’re fine,” I say, disengaging my arm from his grasp and rising to my feet. “Besides, you’re right. It’s probably for the best.”

Colin’s lips work for several seconds, at a loss for words. Like he can’t believe this didn’t turn out how he expected, me in a crying puddle at his feet.

He clenches his jaw, showing that he’s actually getting angry. “Violet—”

“’Bye, Colin.”

Ruffled, Colin straightens his collar and clears his throat, trying one last tactic, gesturing at my half-eaten food. “Will you just sit down and finish the bagel, at least?”

Turning away, I toss over my shoulder, just as casually as he tossed away our relationship, “No time. I gotta go to work . . . and do that ‘decorating thing’.”

My single cheerleader stands up, her arm circling in rally. “That’s right, girl. Strut it out of here and own the world.” She sneers at Colin, more emotionally invested in this than even I am, and isn’t that pitiful?

She’s my only supporter, though. Every other woman in here is judging me as unworthy of keeping Colin. All they see is a handsome guy in a suit with a flashy diamond ring . . . back on the market.

I imagine Colin will be collecting numbers by the stacks before he even walks out of the coffee shop.

Well, they can have him.

I get into the cab and far down the block before the tears come. Not for Colin, not for the decimation of our relationship, but for Papa and for the little girl I once was, and still am to some degree, who wants to make her grandfather happy.

Chapter 2

Ross—Ten Years Ago

I see her again. Violet Russo.

The Queen Bee of her little group that includes my sister.

They’re watching me. All gathered around Violet’s locker, and she’s whispering to them behind her hand as if I could read her lips from down the hall.

She’s talking shit about me, I bet. Telling them how much of a bastard I am.

I’d be pissed off if it weren’t true.

It’s become her daily ritual, telling everyone how much she hates me with that wildfire in her eyes. It’s become my daily ritual, too, doing things I know will piss her off because it’s entertaining to see her explode. I don’t even know how the habit got started, but neither of us has any desire to stop the constant warring.

But she’s plotting something. Make no doubt about it, some sort of revenge for my relentless teasing is on her mind. I can see it in her eyes, the smug tilt of her smile now that she’s dropped her hand, and the way she stands tall like she’s unreachable.

Unfortunately for Violet, I have something special for her today . . . courtesy of Bio Lab.

As I reach my locker, Violet furtively glances my way, but as soon as our eyes meet, she quickly averts her gaze. Even the small battles are a victory against her.

But she whispers something into the ear of my little sister, Abigail, who’s smiling as if she approves of whatever treachery Violet is planning.

Yep, she’s plotting something, all right.

Too bad I’m about to beat her to the punch.

I place my books into my locker and slam it with a loud bang and boldly make my way over.

Halfway there, I hesitate. I’m a cocky son of a bitch, but it’s a pack of them and only one of me. And if I know anything, high school girls are like zombies. Easy enough one on one, but in packs, you’re nothing but lunch.