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It’d taken me too damn long to realize it was actually Gwen standing there, not a figment of my imagination. I’d forgotten she had a key to that office and had even given me the heads-up she’d be dropping off files at some point. I supposed she hadn’t expected I’d be there so late, and she didn’t know my second office doubled as my “hook up” place.
After Gwen had left, I’d not only stopped Elizabeth from getting me off, I’d fired her from watching Dallas. I’d given her a healthy severance check and let her know the casual fucking was done, too.
I hadn’t been able to have sex with anyone since that night. I wasn’t sure what was wrong with me, but my dick wasn’t broken. It still worked just fine when I jerked off. The problem was, Diana Mackenzie kept popping into my head while I stroked my cock.
I’d tried to fight off the image of her sitting on my desk in her glasses and T-shirt, spreading her legs open for me to taste her like a good girl. It was so far removed from my normal desires and how I screwed these days, but somehow, thoughts of her like that was all it took to get me over the finish line.
I justified it by reminding myself I was already nearly there, so, what the fuck did it matter if I thought about a woman I’d never actually set a hand on while it happened?
My conscience seemed to think otherwise. Shockingly, I still had one.
In an even more fucked-up twist, Gwen and I had to partner up in a dating adventure game on our last op—a horrible idea—and we’d wound up having to kiss twice. The first time had been brief, for the sake of the dating show. The second time, though, Gwen had kissed me as part of the cover story. When I’d closed my eyes, I’d let myself imagine it was the one woman I’d never be able to truly have. Diana. What a fucking dick thing to do.
Gwen confessed she had feelings for me on that op, and I’d come up with a not-so-bullshit reason to turn her down. I couldn’t exactly tell her why I’d really let her stay in my office that night, staring at her while another woman gave me head. Or tell her who’d been in my mind during that kiss. Not that Gwen wasn’t a great girl, but she’d never be my girl. Fuck my life.
“You need to get laid,” Camila said, somehow reading my mind without physically touching me. A new skill? “You’re wound up. That’s what’s wrong.”
I smiled at her bluntness, but she was spot on. “How do you always know everything?”
“Don’t worry, I’m not offering up myself. That’d be gross. You’re like a brother.”
This woman would inherit everything if I died, and she was the only woman I’d ever allow myself to love ever again. But have sex with her? God no. “Same page,” I said, surprised I managed a laugh despite my mood.
A mood I wasn’t likely to shake anytime soon. Especially because not only had I been fantasizing about the new Secretary of State’s daughter, I’d also been casually checking in on her in the last two months. And by “casually,” I meant I’d secretly had my own cameras installed at the research center in Amsterdam where she currently resided and worked. Keeping tabs on the new company, as well as Pierce Quaid, to ensure no one fucked up Rebecca’s legacy (since that was all she’d seemed to care about) with the change of ownership.
The unintended consequence of my efforts to obsessively watch over the new company was to also check in on Diana.
I had no clue why I was so drawn to this woman, but fuck if I couldn’t seem to stop myself from caring about her well-being. And after the last few times “checking in” on her, I could tell Diana was getting close to solving something with her research. I could see it in her eyes, and the excited little fist pumps in the air she did while she worked in her lab or behind a desk with her headphones on. I’d gone so far as to zoom in on her phone screen to see what music she listened to while working, pleased by her taste in beats.
Yeah, I was a sick fuck and needed help for a lot of reasons. The sooner I cut myself off from watching the company—aka, her—the better.
“So, are you going to tell me what else is going on, or are you going to keep it to yourself like always?” Camila’s question pushed through my thoughts.
“Did I keep too much from Rebecca? Is that why she kept so much from me?” I deflected while pulling the SUV to the side of the road and parallel parked in front of a bar. “She died thinking she had sex with another man. Went behind my back to give him my case files just to prevent me from finding out. She’d rather help a criminal than tell me what was going on.” Why was I rehashing this? It was history. Nothing would change the past. I was supposed to be letting go. But what if I missed something? What if there was more she didn’t tell me, and?—
“You know what your problem is?”
I unbuckled and turned toward her. “No, but I know you’re going to tell me.”
“You haven’t forgiven her. For anything. For making you quit the Army. For forcing you into a job you hated. For other things you probably haven’t told me about. And then, of course, for her keeping all those secrets about Andrew Cutter from you.” She started to reach for me, but then went still at the memory of what might happen if she touched me. “So, like I said, forgive her.”
I stared at her, probably giving her a blank, confused look. Was she serious? Rebecca was dead. I was the only one who needed forgiving. All the confessions to all the priests around the world would still never get me redemption. Because I didn’t deserve it.
“You’re mad at her. You won’t admit it because she’s gone, but you are. And you’re mad at yourself for being mad at her,” she said, her accent thickening that time.
And for telling her I hated her before she died. For still hating her even now for all of her secrets. For cheating. For so many things. Yeah, you’re right. But I lied like a stubborn kid and said, “No, I’m not.”
“You are.” She folded her arms, staring me down like only she could. “So, forgive her. Forgive yourself for being mad. Stop carrying her ring with you like a ghost haunting you, too.”
How’d you . . .? I shook my head.
Dark eyes focused on me. “And for that matter, while you’re at it, no more dressing like you’re the head of the mafia, wearing only black all the time. Then, God help us all, go get laid before you snap.”
PART III
NOW…
17
